Post by Anime Monster on Oct 18, 2005 18:46:39 GMT -5
Rating: PG-13 to R-ish
Notes: This could be considered sci-fi horror (sorta like The Ring, AVP, or all the other "horror" movies Hollywood insists they must show...whatever happened to good old slasher (and not the Freddy vs. Jason twist either)
Crack! Swish swish swish. Patter patter patter. Crack!
Rain splattered the slick, empty road as Wendy Wright drove home through the mountain pass. She gripped her steering wheel, afraid of the rain, as Pink Floyd's "Brain Damage" drifted through the speakers.
Her eyes constantly scanned the roadway, barely blinking, worried about the road, more worried about the road than the fact she forgot to check the low gas gauge. Sputtering, the car slowed to a stop near the road side. A frustrated cry escaped Wendy's throat as she dove into her purse for her cell phone only to find "No Signal," displayed in the window in the little plastic case. Muttering obscenities and prayers she settled herself in for a long wait.
It didn't turn out to be so long as a man appeared from the downpour, old fashioned lantern in one hand, shot gun rifle in the other. He wore brown overalls and a dirty shirt that looked to be homemade.
"You all horses run off?" he shouted, accent dripping with a backwoods drawl that sounded like he never saw another human let alone a car.
"Er..." she really didn't know how to reply, but said, "I guess you could say that."
"Bobby Brown, Missy, I live upthere ontop o'that hill," he said. "Ya can stay with me 'til the storm clears off."
Wendy looked at "Bobby" unsure of what to do. He seemed nice enough, but one couldn't be sure with sickos like Bundy and BTK Killer out there. "Um...I guess," she said, grabbing her key chain with it's mini can of Mace attached and her purse to follow the man up the hill, which was actually one of the taller mountains.
The cabin would have been picturesque had the rain not been pelting it into a dirty, muddy, sad, brown structure. The single window looked as though an airplane had crashed into a muddy puddle before it and the door looked ready to blow off it's hinges, not to mention the groaning chimney.
Bobby opened the door and said, "There's a bed in the bedroom." The bedroom turned out to be a bed surrounded by a curtain maid of a quilt and towel that separated the single room cabin into another part.
The cabin was simple with a table for two and a rag-braid rug in front of the hearth as the only other features in the small space.
Despite her better judgment Wendy went to the "bedroom" and laid down, falling asleep almost instantly.
Wendy should have listened to her intuition, though, because the next morning all that was found of Wendy were a few bones next to a fully grown black bear.
Notes: This could be considered sci-fi horror (sorta like The Ring, AVP, or all the other "horror" movies Hollywood insists they must show...whatever happened to good old slasher (and not the Freddy vs. Jason twist either)
Crack! Swish swish swish. Patter patter patter. Crack!
Rain splattered the slick, empty road as Wendy Wright drove home through the mountain pass. She gripped her steering wheel, afraid of the rain, as Pink Floyd's "Brain Damage" drifted through the speakers.
Her eyes constantly scanned the roadway, barely blinking, worried about the road, more worried about the road than the fact she forgot to check the low gas gauge. Sputtering, the car slowed to a stop near the road side. A frustrated cry escaped Wendy's throat as she dove into her purse for her cell phone only to find "No Signal," displayed in the window in the little plastic case. Muttering obscenities and prayers she settled herself in for a long wait.
It didn't turn out to be so long as a man appeared from the downpour, old fashioned lantern in one hand, shot gun rifle in the other. He wore brown overalls and a dirty shirt that looked to be homemade.
"You all horses run off?" he shouted, accent dripping with a backwoods drawl that sounded like he never saw another human let alone a car.
"Er..." she really didn't know how to reply, but said, "I guess you could say that."
"Bobby Brown, Missy, I live upthere ontop o'that hill," he said. "Ya can stay with me 'til the storm clears off."
Wendy looked at "Bobby" unsure of what to do. He seemed nice enough, but one couldn't be sure with sickos like Bundy and BTK Killer out there. "Um...I guess," she said, grabbing her key chain with it's mini can of Mace attached and her purse to follow the man up the hill, which was actually one of the taller mountains.
The cabin would have been picturesque had the rain not been pelting it into a dirty, muddy, sad, brown structure. The single window looked as though an airplane had crashed into a muddy puddle before it and the door looked ready to blow off it's hinges, not to mention the groaning chimney.
Bobby opened the door and said, "There's a bed in the bedroom." The bedroom turned out to be a bed surrounded by a curtain maid of a quilt and towel that separated the single room cabin into another part.
The cabin was simple with a table for two and a rag-braid rug in front of the hearth as the only other features in the small space.
Despite her better judgment Wendy went to the "bedroom" and laid down, falling asleep almost instantly.
Wendy should have listened to her intuition, though, because the next morning all that was found of Wendy were a few bones next to a fully grown black bear.
