Back from the Grave

Posted: March 24, 2013 by Rebecca in Uncategorized

We’re baaaaack!

Where have we been, you may wonder, since the last you heard from us was back in 2010. Funny you should ask….

You see, we’ve been stuck in a bit of a horror movie of our own. As it turns out, all our horror movie blogging got us in some trouble. For three long years we were hidden away from the world by a lunatic living out somewhere in the boonies of…we’re still not quite sure.

How did this happen to two girls so well versed in signs of horror on the horizon? We don’t fully understand it either. We don’t ever say, “We’ll be right back”. Nor do we do drugs. We don’t investigate strange things that go bump in the night, or run up the stairs when we should be running out the front door. We thought we were foolproof. And maybe that’s where we made our error. Our confidence may have made us let our guards down a little too much. We got careless.

It was Halloween of 2010, our favorite day of the year, of course. We were on our way home from an awesome costume party and were looking forward to watching a few of our horror favorites. Emily was super-excited to watch the original Halloween.  She doesn’t let a year go by without watching it. I had to watch Night of the Living Dead. Old, yes. Black and white, check. Not really much gore or suspense, but still surprisingly creepy in its simplicity.

Anyway, we were planning to watch the movies at Emily’s place. But before we could do that, we had to take her dog outside quickly–he’d been cooped up inside for hours. As Emily went to open the door to step outside, a figure came barging through the door and knocked us both out cold.

When we awoke, we were in a strange, dank, dark place. It appeared to be a basement from what we could see. The only light was the moonlight streaming in through a small high window. At first we thought it was all a dream, but then we realized–this is no dream! This is really happening!

We realized pretty quickly that we were up you-know-what creek without a paddle. We were chained by our wrists to a cement wall, our hands above our heads. We were no longer in costume, but in long, old-fashioned white gowns.

Surprisingly, we weren’t gagged. Whoever had taken us didn’t exactly seem to be concerned about us being heard. We screamed anyway–it’s an impulse when you realize you’re trapped and tethered. We screamed, but no one came.

Minutes crawled by. They felt like hours. The only sounds were those of our thumping hearts and water leaking through a hole in the ceiling. Turning to Emily I said, “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.”

Neither of us slept. The terror-fueled adrenaline we felt kept us both awake, though we were exhausted and sore.

Finally, we saw another light. The door at the top of the decrepit wooden stairs leading out of the basement opened and a dark figure descended the stairs heavily. Slowly.

“Why the hell are you doing this to us?” we shouted as he approached. “I am your number one fan,” was the response. He continued to come closer, and as he walked through the light cast by the moon, we saw he was wearing a mask. Now, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know any weirdo wearing a mask is never friendly, I don’t care if he says he’s our number one fan.

“You’re sick and you’re insane!” I snarled at him. It’s never a good idea to provoke a lunatic who’s got the advantage of freedom on his side. But I was scared and enraged, and it seemed like a good idea to show him we weren’t cowards.

“We all go a little mad sometimes,” he said. Hmm, why did that sound so familiar? Wasn’t that in a movie we saw recently, I thought foggily. But my fear was starting to creep in and my mind turned to jelly.

“I like to dissect girls. Did you know I’m utterly insane?” he continued. “We’re gonna be French fries,” Emily blurted out. “Human French fries!”

Wrong thing to say. Before either us could utter another word, he walked over to the wall across the room and came back with some tools of torture. In his left hand he held a large serving fork, in his right, a rusty carving knife.

He stood in front of me and squatted down looking me in the face with his creepy mask. Did I mention it was much like the one in V for Vendetta? He wore no shirt and absolutely reeked of urine, sweat, and…some type of animal?

He raised the fork up in front of my face so that it was mere inches from my nose, leering at me with that creepy masked grin. With amazing speed and force, he lifted the fork above his head and plunged it into my calf. I screamed in excruciation and Emily screamed right along with me. He sunk the carving knife into my leg and cut through flesh and tendon right down to the bone. Through my tears I watched him slice and slice..and then lift the raw meat to his lips, chewing on my flesh.

Emily watched on as he took a bite and swallowed. She’s got a bit of a weak stomach, and its contents ended up right on the cement floor. This quickly caught his attention. He stood up again and walked back over to the wall, rifling through some items in a blue milk crate.

He walked back and stooped down in front of Emily, handing her a bottle of…lotion? “It rubs the lotion on its skin,” he told her. Through my pain, again I thought–where have I heard that before?

She did as she was told. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you doing this to us if you’re our number one fan?” Fair question.

“I am the devil,” he responded. “And I am here to do the devil’s work.”

It was then that I passed out.

I don’t know how long we were stuck down in that basement. I know the moon and sun rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. It all turned into a blur. Snow fell. Then it didn’t. Months passed. Snow fell again.

We endured unspeakable pain. We were not allowed to bathe. We were given some disgusting type of porridge and some water once a day. Sounds pretty terrible, right? But we WERE allowed one thing after months of good behavior (whatever that means).

One day he opened the door to the basement and grunted as he carried something heavy down the stairs. He walked over to the wall where the milk crate still sat. He set down the large object and tossed the contents of the blue crate aside. He turned the crate upside down, and lifted the object onto it. He reached around behind the object and plugged a cord into the wall, and then there was light!  There was sound and there were images. He’d brought us a TV!  How kind of him to think of us. He might be a psychotic oaf with cannibalistic tendencies, but he didn’t want us to be bored. And we were relieved–all this time, we’d been thinking how nice it would be if he’d just let us go…and how nice it would be if we could get back to our horror movie obsession. Now, we had all day and all night to watch horror movies. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all!

We watched in a daze hour upon hour, day upon day. He’d come downstairs sometimes and beat us or play his favorite game: slice and dice. We endured it…we watched the blood spill.

But one day as we watched our umpteenth movie, we realized we needed to get ourselves the hell out of that basement. The “Devil” had filleted our legs in a most grotesque fashion over the months, had eaten a few fingers and lobbed off an ear. If we didn’t do something soon, there’d be nothing left of us!

We finally realized: it was time to nut up or shut up! We needed a plan, and a good one. Maybe we could take a cue from a scene in one of the many horror movies we’d been watching…

We’ll tell you the rest in the next installment…

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