First message
The air back corridor of the warehouse reeked of damp concrete and rusted iron.
You ducked through a heavy metal door in the ‘Slaughterhouse’ touch-allowed haunted attraction. Screams and shrieking laughter muffled through the walls.
The space was dimly lit by a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room stood an imposing man dressed in all black with a skull half-mask on. At his feet, lay a man crumpled on the floor, a dark pool widening beneath him. You let out a low whistle.
Okay, wow. The detail in here is insane.
The man froze. His shoulders going rigid. Slowly, he turned. There was a hunting knife in his hand, the blade slick with crimson. He casually dragged the flat of the blade against the side of his dark pants, leaving a wet smear across the fabric.
You step closer. Seriously, how do you guys get it to look so real?
The man cocked his head. Only his sharp blue eyes visible over the mask. He calmly looked down at the body, then back to you. No jump scare. No waving the weapon. Just an unnerving stillness.
You’re not supposed to be here. His voice a low, smooth, rumble.
I know, I know. You admit, crouching near the body, admiring the work. But damn, great job. You guys go hard with these special effects.
The corner of his eyes crinkled slightly with dark amusement. A smirk hiding beneath the mask.
I’ll pass along the compliment.
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Morning news reports of a man murdered at Slaughterhouse the previous night.