Terror Scribes Read online

  The naked girl looked up from her daze and saw the monstrous thing in front of her. Then she thrashed in her restraints. “Let me go! Let me out of here! Come on! Please!”

  Michelle did her best to keep her face looking as though she were terrified, even though she wasn’t. She kept staring at the beast, studying it, recording it in her brain. The craftsmanship, she thought, was outstanding. Who’d need CG when they could make real objects look so life-like?

  Farrah screamed. One of Red’s hands slashed her across her belly with one of the knives. A curved slit opened and she bled profusely and quickly.

  Michelle wondered how they were pulling off the effect. She thought that maybe Farrah had worn a false stomach pre-loaded with blood. Michelle thought they were quite clever. They could make it look like it was all one continuous take, and by using a handheld camera, they could tie into the whole reality TV phenomenon.

  Red split in half horizontally. His eyes opened at the sides of his head: Even those seemed super realistic. It reminded Michelle of when she once swam with dolphins . . . she could see the intelligence in their eyes, just as she saw the intelligence in Red’s. It was some magical trick.

  Then Red opened his mouth, which seemed to take up the entire middle of his body. He had rows and rows of shining metal, shark-tooth-like teeth. Something else struck Michelle as funny: The smell. The air around them filled with the most rotten stench, like a hundred dead teeth, mixed with vinegar and spoiled meat. It came from Red.

  She wracked her brain. Maybe they’d made him with animal parts to make him more realistic? No. She knew that wasn’t it.

  Red advanced toward Farrah and opened his mouth. The bottom jaw unhinged and fell to the floor. Knife-shaped teeth scraped along the dirt floor until they were just under her feet. She whimpered and screamed. “This can’t be happening,” she said. “No. Please. No.”

  In a blink, Red jerked forward and swallowed her entire bottom section. Some of the teeth gave her little slices.

  Then Red clamped his mouth shut, like a giant shark. Farrah screamed and Michelle screamed, too. It was so real-looking!

  Please let this be fake, she thought. Please God let this not be happening.

  Something clicked in Michelle’s head. She realized none of it was fake: Not a bit. Farrah’s insides drooped from her top half. There was blood everywhere. Her head was slumped and she’d stopped moving. Her skin had gone ashen.

  Red chewed on the bottom parts of Farrah. Michelle saw one foot and bit of leg before she turned away. She couldn’t take any more. Tears streamed down her face and she shook uncontrollably.

  Please let me live through this, she thought. Please!

  She heard Red chewing for a few moments. Pretend it’s not real. Pretend it’s just a big puppet. Don’t worry about it. Act! Then she sensed his warm breath on her. She wouldn’t open her eyes . . . she refused to look . . . she refused to do anything other than what she had been hired to do, which was to act scared.

  Act scared!

  Then the beast’s breath was away from her and she heard Dusty. “Here’s where I need you most,” he said. “Red here wants to copulate with you.” He folded the LCD display of the camera down flush, turning it off.

  “What? Someone’s dead here!”

  He smiled. “Is she really dead or is it just a special effect? I’m not telling.”

  Michelle was speechless. What was he telling her? Was Farrah truly dead? She looked over to the remaining half of the woman. It was too real . . . the smell of the blood was real . . . how could it not be real? She’d seen it in front of her own eyes.

  Dusty said. “Come on. You’ll be fine. You’ll be famous for this. It’ll be unforgettable.”

  Red made a grumpy noise and inched closer.

  “Anyone who sees this movie will never be able to forget this scene with you and Red,” he said. “What do you say?”

  “I . . . don’t . . . want to,” she said. “I don’t do nudity. Is she really dead?”

  Dusty got up in her face. “Do you really want to find out if she’s dead or not? Why don’t you just do the scene, take your money, and go home? I thought you wanted to act! Do whatever you have to do to make this moment happen for me!”

  Michelle felt her eyes well up. How could she have gotten herself in such a position? Did Grace Kelly really need to get choked by a telephone cord in order to become famous. “It’s not really going to . . . ?”

  “We’ll just make it look that way. Don’t stress.” Dusty’s voice was very low. “You’re just going to have to die in the end.”

  “Like Farrah?” Michelle felt sick. “I don’t want to really die.”

  Dusty winked. “That’s why they call it acting, you know?”

  Michelle shut her eyes. Can I trust him? That thing bit Farrah in half. Who says it won’t do the same to me? Michelle thought.

  She said. “Just make it classy, okay?”

  He laughed. “Not sure how much class is going to be involved with Red dry-humping you,” Dusty said. “But I’ll do my best.” He unfolded the LCD on his camera and pressed a button. “Here we go. Ready?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Dusty moved closer toward Michelle. She could see that he had a much longer body than she’d originally seen. For some reason, Red reminded Michelle of a slinky as Red stretched out. He was some kind of horrific snake, she believed, like one of those fabled gigantic anacondas: Only Red was, well, red, and his head was closer to being nothing but mouth, teeth, and the six spindly red, dagger holding arms jutting from the rim of his mouth, three per side.

  Dusty moved to her right side and got a different angle. She could almost see what he was shooting on the LCD. She looked at it from the corner of her eye: Michelle didn’t want to ruin the shot by looking directly into the lens. The last thing she wanted to do was have to re-shoot the scene.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m going to be quiet now. I’ll move around you two, but just be natural. Remember: pretend you’re chained up in this crazy guy’s basement and he’s trying to feed his pet monster. If he doesn’t feed the beast, it will eat him!”

  Michelle said. “Okay.”

  “Okay . . . so . . . ” Dusty said. “Action!”

  Michelle felt Red’s heaviness at her feet as it slowly crept upward. Red put his arms out. The daggers made a perfect halo shape around her face. Michelle instinctively made a whimpering sound. The daggers were so close, so sharp, and so very real. Those are the same ones that I just watched cut Farrah. This thing could kill me in a blink.

  She shut her eyes for a moment again. Reaching down deep inside to the core of her training, she knew she had to use any acting tool available to her to make it through.

  She searched her memories for something that really scared her. You need to believe that this thing is fake. Then you need to be scared of something else . . . something from your past.

  What scared Michelle more than anything? A memory of a helicopter trip as a young girl flashed inside her mind. She’d been riding in the back with her father. They’d barely lifted off, and the pilot banked them to the right, when her door suddenly swung open. Her father grabbed her with both of his arms, holding her. She’d had on her seatbelt, so her father’s reaction was more instinctual than lifesaving, she knew. Michelle, in that moment, looked down onto the river below them, across to the shore side landing area where they’d taken off. She was filled with dread that she was about to slip out and fall to her death. That was the feeling! She played over the helicopter moment in her head again. Her stomach tensed and she felt the exact same numbing fear.

  Red slithered up and on top of her. She opened her eyes to find one of his looking right at her. He had to turn his head to his left a bit because his eyes were on the side of his head, like those of a fish. He blinked once.

  She knew he was real!

  No!

  I’m going to fall out! Fall right down to the ground and that’s the end of it! That’s what I’m scare
d of happening! Nothing is worse . . . nothing is worse than that!

  At her thighs she felt two nubs hardening. She looked down and saw a pair of thumb-shaped organs pushing into her. Thank God she had her clothes on.

  It’s all pretend. Nothing’s real. Simulated.

  “Okay, everyone hold on a sec,” Dusty said. She looked up at him and saw Rebecca in the background quietly watching the scene. Her face was cold and expressionless.

  Dusty went somewhere behind Red where Michelle couldn’t see him. He returned a moment later with a plastic jug. “We’ll need some blood for this one,” he said.

  He worked his way to her middle and poured it on her thighs, hips, and belly. It was warm. That’s human blood. From Farrah, or maybe someone else. She tried to psych herself out of the thought. No way. The blood’s just been sitting in a hot basement for God knows how long. Maybe he just made it on the stove or something. Don’t effects people make their own blood by cooking it with Karo syrup and red food coloring? It’s cheaper than buying it from the supply shops, especially if you need a lot, right?

  Only problem was the blood smelled like blood, too.

  Dusty said. “I’m ready,” and grabbed the camera again. “Rolling.”

  Red’s thumb-things massaged her thighs, searching for the place where they dipped downward between her legs. Michelle clamped her thighs together as hard as she could. No way was this thing going to get that close to her.

  She sensed Dusty moving his camera down toward Red’s thumb-things. Then he started panning the camera upward. She looked down so she wouldn’t look directly in his lens again. She just let it happen without trying to force a scared face. Maybe if she kept it simple the scene would be scarier? Wasn’t that what she was taught? Don’t do anything. That was one of her acting teacher’s voices in her head.

  Then Dusty panned back down.

  The blood had soaked right through her clothes and she felt numbness starting at her hips and going all the way down to her feet. It was what she’d imagined an epidural would be like.

  She could still feel the thumb-things working faster and faster, but instead of hurting her, Red’s weight was making her tingle. Probably the blood rushing down from being hanged, she thought. There’s really just a big special effects monster on top of me. That’s all.

  Red moved faster. Dusty moved to the opposite side and panned up and down rapidly.

  The thumb-things managed to spread her legs just a little, but not enough to get to any sensitive parts. It seemed to be working harder now that it’d gotten a small break. Michelle writhed on the chains. She wanted the scene over already!

  Then the thumb-things managed to get between her legs deeper and Michelle screamed. “No!”

  You’re going to fall out of the helicopter. That’s the only thing that’s real. That’s the only thing to be scared of. The rest of this is just Hollywood.

  The thumb-things moved quicker: It reminded her of when people would flutter their first and second fingers to simulate walking. It did not feel good at all, especially with the blood starting to dry and stick.

  She looked down the length of Red’s body and could see small ripples moving up and down his sections. As Red’s skin moved, the circular bones stretched through. It was as though he were shivering.

  Dusty kept shooting.

  Then, as quickly as Red’s assault started, it stopped. At least it looked that way for a brief moment. Red’s face inched back away from hers. Dusty stepped back to get the whole scene.

  Red opened his mouth and Michelle swore he was smiling. He moved his head from side to side, checking her out with one eye and then the other. Michelle wondered what Red was doing.

  He slashed at her face with one of the daggers. She felt a hot pain flare across her right cheek, stretching from just under her eye to her chin.

  She screamed, despite herself.

  Red unleashed a rather giant tongue and rolled the tip. He used the tip to lick the slash he’d made top to bottom.

  “No,” Michelle said.

  Red pulled his tongue back inside his head and shut his mouth.

  Michelle looked down and could see she was still bleeding heavily. She felt as though she might pass out. Is this what happened to Farrah right before he bit her in half? Am I about to die? How can I get out of here?

  Red backed away, slithering off her body. Michelle was relieved not to have his weight on her. She could see the nubs near his bottom, now flaccid and pale. She had an idea.

  The nubs.

  It had to be!

  Even though she could barely feel her legs, she tried moving them. They wiggled. Her brain still worked!

  Could she strike him?

  No. He was too far away.

  Dusty said. “All right. Take two!”

  Two? Hadn’t he gotten what he needed with one? She’d been cut, for real. How would that edit together? Well, she didn’t think continuity would be high on Dusty’s priority list in the end.

  The nightmare started again, with Red bulking his way toward her.

  As soon as his little nubs were close enough, Michelle kicked them.

  Red raised in the air with all he had. He lifted up and his back touched the ceiling. It was his turn to scream! His voice was hoarse and deep, like a sick sea lion.

  “Shit!” Dusty screamed.

  Michelle looked down at his nubs. They were no longer pale, but red, and not from being turned on. Michelle kicked them again. The pitch of Red’s scream rose. His eyes rolled back and he shoved his arms up toward the ceiling, where he stuck each dagger deep and into the woodwork.

  He cried out again, his eyes locking with Michelle.

  This is it, she thought. He’s going to kill me for that move.

  Red dropped back down, his arms whipping out from the ceiling. Chips of wood fell all over. He swung them around and violently punched them into a circle around Michelle. They were sharp enough to stick into the rock.

  His mouth opened and she could see the little specks of blood in his drool. Had that been her blood?

  Then Red tried to pull his daggers free. He couldn’t. He pulled several times, but he was totally stuck.

  “Cut!” Dusty said. He hurried up toward Red. “It’s enough. Stop this!”

  Red kept right on yanking with his arms.

  Dusty said. “You’re going to hurt yourself!” He looked around the basement. “We’ll find a way to get you free.”

  Michelle felt something at her wrists. She jumped! It was only Rebecca with the key to unlock her. She was so busy staring straight ahead; she hadn’t even noticed Rebecca rush up to her. In a moment, Michelle was free. Her legs were so numb and she felt incredibly wobbly without the chains to hold onto.

  She ducked and bent, feeling some of the blood had dried to her clothes already. She noticed she was trembling. Her heart was beating fast and her eyes were watering. Overhead, she felt Red’s violent jerking ever-so-close.

  Standing up on her own, and still only a few feet from Red, Dusty jumped in front of her. “You can’t leave! We’re not done!”

  “I’m done.” Michelle pushed past him and made it nearly to the stairs. She hurried. In back of her, she heard Red struggling.

  She heard Dusty. “We have to stop her! If she tells anyone . . . she’s supposed to die in the end! You shouldn’t have let her go!”

  Someone grabbed at her shoulder. Michelle spun round and Rebecca cold cocked her. “We’re not through! I need this movie for my IMDB credit!”

  It barely registered. Maybe because of her adrenaline, or maybe because she’d grown numb, Michelle was able to shake Rebecca’s punch right off. She returned the favor.

  Rebecca went right down, holding her jaw, and cowered.

  “Screw your credits!”

  Dusty was right behind her. “You!” he yelled.

  “Me!”

  Red broke free from the ceiling and dropped back to the floor with a hideous howl. His eyelids were slightly drooped. He turned t
o face Michelle.

  She took the moment, with Dusty standing between them, and shoved him toward Red as hard as she could.

  Dusty was surprised, said. “Hey!” and fell toward Red.

  Then he stopped moving. It took a second for Michelle to realize Dusty’s back had met a handful of Red’s daggers.

  Dusty looked up and choked up some blood. He reached his hand out. “Please,” he said.

  “No,” she said back, and gave him another kick. The daggers went deeper. Michelle looked down and saw Dusty’s feet hovering: his entire weight was carried by Red’s daggers. Dusty’s eyes shut and Michelle turned and ran toward the stairs.

  She didn’t look back. She heard slicing sounds. She heard moans. She heard Rebecca scream.

  Michelle ran up the stairs.

  The scene behind her got extremely quiet.

  Don’t look back.

  She made it through the short foyer and right to the front door. She heard some kind of scraping behind her. She grabbed the front door handle and opened it. She hurried outside. Her car wasn’t far.

  Do I call the cops? Do I go to the Emergency Room? What?

  Michelle made it to her car. Her keys were still in her front pocket, and although they were sticky, they worked. She patted her butt and felt the envelope with her cash still intact. Thank God for small miracles. As she climbed in, she heard a roar coming from the house.

  From behind a curtained window, she saw Red. It’d made it up the stairs! It watched her with one of its eyes. Michelle wondered if Red had killed Dusty and Rebecca, and if they’d come after her. Would Red dare come outside and expose itself? She couldn’t know, and wouldn’t wait to find out. Always follow your gut, she thought. Gut’s telling me to get the hell out of here.

  She did see the sign on the door, the hand-printed one that Dusty had made that read: Welcome To The Jungle.

  Michelle couldn’t drive away fast enough.

  Later, Michelle received a text message from Pam. “How’d the shoot go?”

  She replied. “I’m retired.”

  John Palisano’s journey to horror fiction is a strange one. For a while he toured with with rock bands, while writing songs, poetry and fiction. His first fiction publication was at Emerson College, where a short film was produced from an early foray into scriptwriting. After college he moved to Los Angeles, where he took an internship with Ridley Scott. He learned much, and worked on many big budget films, as well as producing a couple of low-budget films himself. But he found the demands of filmmaking tiring and instead began writing fiction. He discovered that placing his stories with professional magazines was more difficult than financing films, but he continued to write anyway. Many years later, he now faces the impending release of his novel Nerves from Bad