Everyone's Entitled To One Good Scare

/K/-Day
T + 5 hours
The back office of the Party City next to the HEB supermarket, on the corner of Culebra Road and Loop 1604

[Now playing: Desolation, from 1982’s ‘The Thing’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsMH-sdznh8 ]

Day 1, hour 5: The voices in my head are pounding, POUNDING. I know they are not real. I know they are nothing more than the shattered yet screaming pieces of my vices, my conscience, my nightmares, my dreams, and ambitions. That…. BEING, that creature that pierced my mind this morning, was not of this earth. Ragnarok rages outside these walls. And this city dodged Armageddon by unholy luck. I saw the missile flying over. We all did. Yet, I am still here, and most people are not. Perhaps the monsters used the blastwave to energize our kind into their forsaken lands. Perhaps angels sent them to Australia or Antarctica to spare them. Why am I here? Why did I not go? And why did the robed and charred husk of what I assume to be a wizard, choose ME to bless? As I am not in excruciating physical pain, I know that this is not a curse.

Hour 6: Were I a betting man, I would put money that NASA or some United Nations think-tank poked at some abyss filled with horrors beyond imagination, and that realm poked back. The backroom fridge has only food for one more day, curse James for eating all the food 3 days ago, I hope a flying serpent ate him. The voices are manifesting through the masks on display, they seem to prefer the horror movie masks. I do not want to leave, but at least once I run out of food, I can go to the supermarket next door, then fill a shopping cart full of food to bring back here. I highly doubt there will be anyone who’d care to stop me.

Hour 8: The voices are laughing at me. The supermarket was empty of good food. The smell of smoke I sensed before leaving, was NOT in my head after all. I put on some striped camouflaged costume pants and crossed the highway to Wal-Mart, HEB was too crowded. The food stocks were all gone, but there was one shotgun and some ammunition left, read some display magazines there, claim this Ithaca 37 was the best of the best. It is a shortened police version, with rifle sights, for what I assume was for shooting beanbags at protestors. I managed to find food at the Goodwill across the street from here, but all they had was junk snacks and energy drinks. People are coming out of their houses, looting as I am, but some of these people aren’t ‘people.’ They look similar to us, but they have animal features, tails, odd ears, those sorts of things. Perhaps the bovines and lagomorphs taste good. I am so very hungry for real food.

Hour 10: I killed a cow-man. Put the gun against his head pulled the trigger now he’s dead. His limbs tasted good. But what felt better was the rush of the kill. The feeling of the final moments of the beastbeing. The look on his face when he found out his time-life was up. I cannot show my face. They cannot see my killer intent and instinct. I must dawn a mask, but in this place, there are so many to choose from. The voices are silent now. I understand what the wizard’s blessing was. He gifted me the ability to consume without pain, to kill without guilt. I must have more of the power. Then I can stop feeling all-together now. He is too charred to consume. I will burn his body and inhale his fumes and ashes.

Hour 11: It is nighttime. The right time. Wizard is burned. Went up my nose. All of him. kill kill kill kill kill kill Chose mask. Second mask of Myers will do as face-vessel. My purpose is known. Must pursue thrill of kill. Quick kill only. Slow kill will not do. Masochism will not do. Must absorb final fears. Must accelerate to speed of life. Must sense the life-exit. I am the apex hunter. All that run are prey. All that fight are prey. Kick ass. Chew bubblegum. Only side effect is cold. I was very cold. Before, all on me was Oriental wizard shirt. No sleeves. Now, dark brown jacket too. Biker jacket. Some parts faded to orange. Grabbed from Goodwill across road. I am now ready to hunt. Targets acquired. See them from the door-window. Birdwoman and sheriff. Kill. They will not escape. Must hunt. Must chase until targets are million percent dead.

Eion Wright is gone. The Shape of the Hunt wears his skin.


[Now playing: Theme from Halloween 2 (1981) by John Carpenter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JflWFBreok ]