Real: An Original Horror Story

Hunter was never a fan of scary things. She never understood why all her friends loved Halloween so much. It was the absolute worst time of the year for her. She even found the cobwebs on doorsteps and windows too much, and kept her distance. How then could Hunter’s friends, knowing plain and simple that she hated Halloween and anything spooky, plan to go to Bloody Gallows Forest on Halloween? Hunter had heard stories of this place being the main attraction this harvest season.
“It’s literally the best,” said Macy, Hunter’s best friend, obviously vying to get Hunter to attend. “I went last year and had the time of my life, were going on Halloween this year with the whole squad. I already bought the tickets. They were 30 bucks each so don’t you dare skip out,” said Macy to bolster her argument.
“Mace, you know I don’t do scary.”
“You need to broaden your horizons,” berated Macy. “You haven’t ever been to anything scary, so how do you know you won’t like it?” questioned Macy, as she walked away, a little bit cantankerously.
For the rest of the day, Hunter tried to seem ebullient about going to Gallows, as the kids called it. Even with her best attempts, everyone could see right through her disguise, that she was playing prevaricator, since she had never a displayed a fraction of that excitement for anything that fell in the horror genre.
“Hunter” called a voice from down the hall.
Hunter looked and realized it was Ben, the only group member with his license, even though he wasn’t the oldest. The oldest was Michael but his parents didn’t quite trust him enough yet to allow him to get in a “killing machine,” as they referred to the car.
“Hey! What’s up?” Hunter replied.
“I’m surprised you’re coming tomorrow night. It will be great. Anyways, do you know if Macy bought our tickets or if she is? The Gallows is crazy expensive!” Ben asked Hunter hopefully.
“Yes, she did. I have to get to Psychology. See you later?”
“Cool, yeah, 8th period baby! This day has been taking forever!” Exclaimed Ben with great torpor, obviously happy that he wouldn’t have to pay, and he could soon go home and get some much needed rest.
After 8th period, Hunter grabbed her phone out of her locker, the only person who ever followed that “rule,” and felt her phone metaphorically blowing up with texts. The group chat of all her closest friends was newly titled, “Gallows Group.”
“So we’re going on Halloween, right?” asked Michael, who was not the brightest.
“For the tenth time… YES!!” replied Macy.
“Is Hunter gonna come?” questioned Billy, who was the most considerate in the group.
“YES SHE IS!” typed Macy.
“I can drive,” promised Ben, “but I’ll need some gas money.”
The rest of the day went as scheduled: homework, dinner, TV, and then bed for Hunter. She had a slight optimism that the next 24 hours wouldn’t be as bad as she expected. Not very often was Hunter optimistic, because things so rarely occurred in the right way. She should have trusted her gut. She shouldn’t have felt obligated to go. But she got picked up by Ben, as planned, and joined her friends on the 50 mile adventure to Bloody Gallows Forest. She never should have agreed to go. Maybe if she just did a little more of her project she would still be alive.
“Turn up the radio, Ben!” shouted Macy over the already deafening heavy metal music blasting through the old speakers of Ben’s rusted Ford F-150.
“Why are we listening to this garbage?” asked Michael.
“It’s Halloween and it’s Ben’s car,” yelled Billy, trying to be heard over the music.
“We’re doing the hayride first, then the corn maze,” blurted Macy, a true Gallows veteran.
The hour long car ride was filled with laughs for everyone except Hunter. The group tried to (3) cajole her into talking but she wouldn’t. Finally, the car came to a stop, seatbelts un-clicked, and Hunter had to face her fears. Billy, being the kind soul he was, tried to abate Hunter’s fear by talking to her. The five friends walked through a series of thick brown ropes and waited about fifteen minutes until they were at the front of the line and finally boarded the hayride. There was a convivial feeling in the air, that is, for everyone except Hunter, because they were finally on the hayride.
“The actors may touch you but you can’t touch them. Please respect our rules and have fun,” said the driver, as Macy predicted, saying all the drivers say the same banal lines.
The ride began and immediately Hunter’s stomach fell as they entered into the first part of the “adventure”. Fire sporadically raged on both sides of the trailer giving off a pulsing glare and slight heat that counteracted the bitter wind of the abnormally cold October night. The trailer bounced through the forest trail with no taste of civilization anywhere in sight. Hunter saw, as she turned around, a man dressed as a zombie staggering towards her, then a loud sound like a gunshot went off and he started sprinting at the trailer. Hunter felt helpless as her fear overpowered her, but her friends were there. They were all still there, right next to her.
About ten minutes deeper into the forest, the trailer came to a stop, in the middle of a mental asylum re-creation. Actors screamed and wailed as they banged on their cells, which quickly opened, releasing its prisoners. The prisoners jumped onto the trailer and got in people’s faces, screaming. Hunter suddenly found herself screaming too.
“It’s not real. Relax,” said Macy to Hunter.
A while longer, true terror was instilled in everyone on the hayride. Stumbling down the path, the trailer creaked as it came to a stop. This time seemed to be an accident, as the trailer started right up again. Quickly a chainsaw appeared next to Hunter’s face. She screamed, but a hand was shoved over her mouth blocking the sound. She was tugged off the hayride as she witnessed her friend driving away, leaving her in the presence of a man, certainly who was not following his lines, in the middle of the forest. Hunter knew something was awfully wrong.
“I think they’ll like you,” said the man as he dragged her on the ground by her hair.
Suddenly, with adrenaline rushing through her veins, Hunter stood up and kicked him in the knees, dropping him to the ground, and then she connected with a calculated punt to his head, knocking him unconscious. She had no time to bask in her pride; she had to get out of these woods. What the hell was wrong with her friends bringing her to this awful place? She knew they couldn’t have known, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting out. Hunter sprinted back the way she thought she came, but with the darkness, she couldn’t tell which way was which. As she continued, she had to stop running to catch her breath. There was no way this could be real she thought, but the throbbing pain all over her scalp from where the man with the chainsaw dragged her by her hair reminded her it was.
Hunter then heard some branches rustling and twigs cracking, so she ran, again. This time, however, she didn’t need to stop for breath, rather, she stopped when she reached a rotting cabin that had clearly seen better days. She thought that it would be a smart spot to hide out until morning when the “actors” wouldn’t still be there. Hunter opened the door and the smell of mildew filled her nostrils along with a scent she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She noticed a staircase in the back, made of the same rotting wood the outside was comprised of. When she reached the bottom, there was no turning back from what she saw. There were tables covered with blood and gore. Directly above the tables were bodies, dead ones, hanging by nooses. When she looked down for the first time, written in blood smeared obviously by a hand, a human hand, screamed the words, “IT IS REAL.” Hunter’s heart again began to race. Had this anything to do with what Macy said to her in order to calm her down? “It’s not real.”
The door upstairs quickly flew open and crashed against the wall with a “BANG,” signaling she wasn’t alone. Panic-stricken, Hunter hid adjacent to the stairs in a cracked wooden cabinet. The cabinet was filled with thick brown ropes, the same type that made the nooses, and the ropes at the entrance, come to think of it. Five thumps and constant screaming later, two other individuals were in the basement, whom Hunter could see through the crack. The larger man body slammed the other man on the table. Hunter couldn’t quite make out their faces, but she could tell this was not the same “actor” she had a run in with. That signaled to her that there was a (15) faction within the “Gallows Crew” intent on punishing their “guests.” With no time wasted, he grabbed a butcher’s knife and slid it through the dazed man’s chest, the man that was body slammed. The guy on the table screamed in sequence with the sadistic maniac’s laugh. The man on the table was still alive when the killer walked over to the cabinet that Hunter was in and opened it. Frazzled, he grabbed Hunter and threw her on the ground and grabbed two ropes. He looped them up around a beam on the ceiling, next to the ones that were occupied. He grabbed the still alive but bleeding steadily man, and threw the rope around his neck, tightened it, and then kicked the table out from underneath him, leaving him to dangle by his neck. Horror-stricken, Hunter watched as the man’s neck snapped, and his appendages began to twitch ravenously.
“Now your turn,” said the deranged man with a wry smile. “You did my job for me.”
Hunter tried to repeat her success from earlier but this man was way too strong for a 5’9” girl to take on. He clasped his hands around her neck, slipped the noose over it and yelled “Nighty Night,” leaving Hunter dangling lifelessly, in dire need of her friends, but they just weren’t there for her.