i’m sad to see this group go, but thank you all for making this such a memorable experience ! i’m gonna miss this rpg so much & if yall would like to keep in touch, my writing blog is @hellawrites
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“ — how do you know its a serial killer? could just be some asshole who got an F on exam. look, i just don’t get why everyone’s freaking out. a professor died– big deal.”
“hey, you’re the one who said he wouldn’t be the last. besides, he wasn’t just any professor. this was langley. he’s been alive longer than woodsboro itself. i don’t know. maybe i’m crazy, but it’s like whoever did this ––– what if they were trying to send a message?”
“oh, it’s just you.” she said in a monotone voice. stacey didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly but she was expecting one of her sisters to be home by now. since the murder, she was really petrified being alone in the huge sorority house for the most of the time. “did i leave the damn door unlocked?”
“who else would it be?” only after they leave his lips does he realize the stupidity of his words. stepping into the foyer, his hands immediately find shelter in his pockets, clearly out of place in a sorority house at a university he doesn’t even attend. “sorry for not calling first, but ––– well, i don’t have your number.” gaze flicks up from the toes of his boots, somehow managing to shrug with his eyes. “this is super embarrassing, but uh . . . basically, i fell asleep in class today & i was hoping you could, i dunno, lend me your notes or something?”
luckily vanessa wasn’t the type to get upset about something as stupid as an obvious little slip. eyes traveling upward, she offered him a slight smile. luis could be a little.. scatterbrained sometimes, but he meant well. ‘ yeah.. ‘ she replied, still in the process of collecting her thoughts. ‘ uh, yeah. just trying to study for these midterms and with what just happened, it’s a little hard to think straight, you know ? ‘ it’s then that she realized luis was his ta. ‘ shit– forget about me. how are you holding up ? ‘
“me?” flustered by her acknowledgement, he pushes a stray curl from his eyes & offers up a weak grin. “i’m fine. i mean, obviously not fine fine, but i’m . . . dealing.” if zero hours of sleep a night & surviving on nothing but coffee & breath mints is considered dealing, then sure ––– he’s doing just fine. truth is, he’s been doing his best not to address the whole murder thing. once he started thinking, he couldn’t stop, & he wound up trapped in this vicious cycle of losing his shit. “langley was kind of like an old, haggard father figure to me. well maybe not a father ––– more like an uncle. we weren’t really that close, but he was always, y’know, around.”
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luis de león, age eight, glances up from his third grade math homework. he was sprawled out on the living room floor of their tiny, two bedroom apartment, pouring over a page of fractions & regretting being placed into the advanced math class at woodsboro elementary. needless to say, he’s never been more relieved to hear his mother ring the dinner bell.
walking into the kitchen with a pencil tucked behind his ear, he finds ms. de león cramming a fussy lily into her high chair while simultaneously spearing a piece of chicken with a fork. luis smiles to himself at the sight. mama was practically a superhero. if anyone could answer his questions, it was her.
see, luis was new to woodsboro & adjusting to a brand new school had not been easy. he’d taken to eating lunch with his teacher, mrs. larson, who was plenty nice but not exactly great conversation with talk of mortgages & her husband’s crippling arthritis. at recess, he’d offer to fill in if the kickball boys needed an alternate, but usually wound up jumping rope by his lonesome & thinking about his old school. today, he got lucky. joey armstrong was out sick & luis was invited to play kickball. it was the most fun he’s had since moving here ––– that is, until he overheard a startling conversation.
there is nothing luis hates more than not knowing things, so he stayed silent for the rest of recess & mulled over what he heard all day. by the time he got on the school bus at 3:15, he made plans to ask his mother about it when she got home from work. sitting down at the kitchen table, he makes a big show of immediately shoving peas into his mouth in the hopes that eating a few veggies would get this conversation off on the right foot.
across the table, ms. de león finally takes her seat & tucks into her own meal, famished from a busy day of work. meanwhile, lily clambers around in her secondhand high chair, flinging a spoonful of potatoes across the kitchen & dissolving into a fit of giggles.
setting her fork down, ms. de león looks at luis & offers a tired smile. “how was school today?”
yes ! a perfect opportunity !
“good. we started learning fractions & i got to play kickball at recess.”
“that’s great, mijo. i’m glad you’re making friends.”
here it was. the moment of truth. “actually . . . about that . . . “ he begins slowly, twirling a piece of chicken around on his fork. “these boys, the ones who invited me to play kickball? they were talking about something. a man in a mask.”
the kitchen fell silent. lily’s spoon fell to the floor even though she obviously had no idea what they were talking about. maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“a man in a mask.” ms. de león repeated quickly, glancing down at her plate.
“yes, a masked man.” luis affirmed, wondering if phrasing it differently might jog her memory. “i didn’t ask what they meant because, well, i didn’t want them to think i was dumb. but you? you know everything & i hoped ––– “
“not now, luis.”
“what? but i ––– “
“not. now.”
his gaze falls upon his barely touched supper, cheeks burning red with shame at the sudden scolding. well, that didn’t go well. for the rest of the meal, luis pushed his peas around his plate, his brain running overtime with thoughts of the masked man. judging from his mom’s reaction, this had to be a story worth hearing. he’d just have to wait.
later that evening, after kissing his sister goodnight, luis pushes the door to his mom’s room open. ms. de león was sat up in bed with a jennifer weiner novel in her hands, though she seemed to be reading the same page over & over again, as if her mind was elsewhere.
“mama?” he asks tentatively, climbing into bed & snuggling up close to his mother.
“yes, mijo?” she responds, not looking up from her book.
“can i hear about the masked man now?”
this seems to have earned her attention, because she slams her book shut, placing it on the nightstand with a loud thump. luis took this as a sign to continue.
“today at recess, some boys ––– i heard them talking about a man. a masked man. something about a masked man with a knife & the police.” he remembered the knife thing while finishing his homework & couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of it.
“who are these boys?” she demands with a little too much gusto. through her deep brown eyes, luis could see her thoughts moving a mile a minute, trying to remember where she’d stashed the pta directory so she could call their parents & give them a piece of her mind. “are they friends?”
“no.” luis answers quickly, glancing down at his hands. he considers, for a moment, the piece of crumpled cardstock in the bottom of his backpack, inviting him to tucker davidson’s 9th birthday party at six flags next month. possibly a sign of budding friendship, though earlier that day, he overheard tucker telling ricky ramirez that mrs. davidson forced him to invite everyone in their class. luis decides it’s for the best not to mention this. if his mom got all riled up again, he’d never hear the rest of the story.
this response seems to appease his mother, who exhales a gigantic sigh before continuing on. “about a year ago, there was a bad man in woodsboro ––– the masked man, as your friends called him. behind his mask, this bad man did some bad things. horrible, horrible things. when he was around, many women died.”
“how?”
“how what?”
“how did they die?”
a pained expression crosses stern features. luis can tell she’s trying to decide whether to continue on or shuffle him across the hall to bed, threatening to ground him if he asked any more questions. finally, she takes a deep breath & utters three words that will change luis’ life forever.
“he killed them.”
now it’s luis whose thoughts are moving at the speed of light as he processes this newfound information. there was a killer in woodsboro? a real life killer, like in the scary movies he wasn’t allowed to watch? mama said many women had died, but just how many was many, anyway? he thought of his little sister, sleeping soundly in their shared room next door. his mother had insisted they move here for a fresh start, but had she unknowingly lead them to their deaths?
luis takes a deep breath, voice eerily level for an eight year old boy whose world had just been turned on its axis. “did they catch him? did they catch the masked man?” for the first time since he sat down, he’s afraid to know all the answers.
she considers this for a moment, before looking at luis with a reassuring smile. a comforting arm snakes around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight embrace. “of course, mi corazón.” she replies, planting a kiss atop his mop of curls. “you’re safe here.”
two weeks later, he’d learn this was a lie. but for tonight, he falls asleep in his mother’s arms, drifting into a deep slumber as the stars outside his window twinkle like a thousand angels ––– keeping the bad dreams at bay.
“for these children tragedy struck a long time ago when they got diagnosed. professor langley dying was horrible, yes, but there are things more important to me, i guess – does that make me sound awful? i mean, i am terrified and i really hope this is not a serial killer and just an isolated incident but– these kids’ lives have just started, they deserve my attention more than an old professor”, the girl trails off, eyes falling to his hands as a chuckle escapes glossy pink lips. “i am afraid they don’t take rewards cards, but i guess i can make an exception for you, luis. i mean, as long as you promise to get me those cupcakes you guys throw out at the end of the night shift. deal?”
“mandy, you couldn’t sound awful if you tried. are you sure the kids won’t mind? i mean, the cupcakes are pretty good, but i doubt they’re cancer-curing good. if they were, maybe i could afford to make a real donation.” his tone is humorous, the first real joke he’s made in weeks. “the least i can do is offer some free advertising for the cause. i could use the distraction, after . . .” sentence ends abruptly as he casts his gaze to his shoes. over the last few days, he’s learned that the only way to cope with recents events is to avoid all things langley. it’s the only way he’d stay relatively sane. glancing up at the auburn-haired philanthropist, he wrings his hands towards the sky, glad to have something positive to throw himself into. “put me to work.”
“that━” a pause as lips part, trying to come up with something, anything to say. “ !━that was like that when i got here. i didn’t bre━” it was the truth, for what ever it was worth. “you know what, i’m just gonna…go…somewhere else. anywhere else.” he’s quick to lean over, grabbing a hold of the pile of books on the chair, nearly dropping them. “have fun cleaning that up, dude.”
“dammit, carlos ! i emptied the last of my piggy bank for that smoothie.” money might’ve been no object to his clumsy friend, but luis had been pinching pennies since birth. splurging on something gratuitous like a frozen beverage? that kind of thing only happened once in a blue moon. “this is why we can’t have nice things.” that & murderers ––– but the only thing that had been killed in this room was his vibe.
“love? no, i don’t think so. i love coffee. love crappy netflix documentaries on the dark web & books featuring a sharp-tongued, relatable protagonist. you could even say i love the pizza in the student center, even the end of day slices that are all nasty & picked over because no one knows how to work the pizza cutter.” a pause, since he’s clearly lost his train of thought. “but taco tuesday? i worship taco tuesday. if taco tuesday was a woman, i’d marry her & have her spicy half-human, half-taco babies. wait, that doesn’t make sense.” there’s no time to work out the logistics of culinary procreation, not when he’s got a night full of schoolwork ahead of him & only so many hours until sunrise. “point is, as much as i’d kill to eat my weight in mexican food right now, i have a test in the morning & about six papers in need of writing. tell the tacos i’m sorry.”
“flirting? please, that wasn’t flirting. what makes you think … ?” his words trail off, forming a non-committal point at the end of a sentence. luis liked to believe he had this being-friends-with-the-ex thing down to a science, but he’d underestimated how easy it was to fall back into familiar territory when presented with the right opportunity. truth is, he’s comfortable around amanda. not all that surprising, considering how long they’d been an item, but it was also dangerous. dangerous & dishonest. he’d lie to her & say things were fine, that he was fine. he’d lie to his friends, claiming he was over her. but most of all? he’d lie to himself. in fact, he’d grown so accustomed to it that he actually started to believe his own tales ––– but, every now & again, there’s a screw up, something that reminds him just how not-over this girl he still is. & that, quite frankly, sucks. “okay, yeah, maybe i was flirting a little. old habits die hard, i guess.”
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“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
scream sentence starters / accepting.
“no … that was just my reflection.” he’s made a habit of avoiding mirrors, terrified of the jaundice creature he’d find in place of familiar features. now, it’s no secret he’d been sleeping less & less, but he’d severely underestimated just how dire things were ––– until catching a glimpse of his ghastly reflection in an inconveniently placed mirror, that is. needless to say, the results were not pretty. “why didn’t anyone tell me? friends don’t let friends walk around like the bride of chucky.”
❛ I mean, call me crazy but I think we’re in Freddy vs. Jason territory here. ❜
❛ It’s like the killer is combining these two legends into one brand new murder spree. ❜
❛ I was expecting crazy Ralph from Friday the 13th so nope. ❜
❛ I’m barely responsible for myself. ❜
❛ I thought you said this was going to be a mansion. ❜
❛ I know my mansions, this is really more of a bungalow. ❜
❛ We’re trying to lure the killer and you show up. ❜
❛ I’m sorry, this is a pretty classic “don’t let him in” situation, right? ❜
❛ I guess I didn’t think of you as the hospital visit type. ❜
❛ You know the whole, horrible, embarrassing story. ❜
❛ You broke my heart! I loved you, okay, and you broke my heart. ❜
❛ That’s a pretty outdated way of thinking. ❜
❛ Virgin? Seriously? Where did you learn to do that? ❜
❛ It’s a terrible movie, but one hell of a sex scene. ❜
❛ See this is why people think you’re creepy. ❜
❛ Do you think I’m creepy? ❜
❛ I’m sorry, this isn’t the right place. ❜
❛ This is the stupidest, most insane thing ever. ❜
❛ The only thing scary here is this dress. ❜
❛ I’m not a stranger, okay, I’m just strange. ❜
❛ That’s never gone bad for anyone in a movie ever. ❜
❛ First shut up, second, it’s just a study session. ❜
❛ I get that you’re scared, but I understood. ❜
❛ We all have our ways of coping. ❜
❛ The kid screwed me over and skipped town. ❜
❛ This is my life. Not some stupid campaign. ❜
❛ You mean looking out for my boobs? ❜
❛ Are you flirting with me? ❜
❛ Thank God because this drink is undrinkable. ❜
❛ If one of us gets hurt, we all get hurt. ❜
❛ Second chances are rare. Don’t waste them. ❜
❛ I’m making a knife stick. ❜
❛ I need, like, a Men in Black brain wipe. ❜
❛ Is that a pig? God, I’m never eating bacon again. ❜
❛ I’m the only one who knows how to reset the router. ❜
❛ Well we don’t want you getting arrested. ❜
❛ If I can’t trust you, I can’t be with you. ❜
❛ Aww, you wanna come in the hot tub with me? ❜
❛ The weak are outed and then eaten. ❜
❛ It’s the time honored enforcement of the food chain. ❜
❛ Considering my ex-beau might be a mass murderer, who am I to criticize? ❜
❛ Love the colors, but the spots? Too much. ❜
❛ I can’t believe you two came here without me. ❜
❛ Hey, we could team up: Bi-curious and the Virgin. ❜
❛ I was gonna be the Babadook, but then my mom made this cape. ❜
❛ What? No, you love taco Tuesday. ❜
❛ So, pretty much everybody’s a suspect, including us. ❜
❛ I think this is the beginning of a beautiful mutual tolerance. ❜
❛ Cue creepy murder music. I knew I was missing something. ❜
❛ You’re not going to die! Tonight, we change the ending. ❜
❛ Oh, crap. I’m gonna die. ❜
❛ Actually, we could all use a minute. ❜
❛ Hey, um, thanks for saving my life. ❜
❛ Boom, but then what? Take a victory lap around the pool? ❜
❛ We know what you’re going through, and we’re here if you need us. ❜
❛ I’ve never seen him/her with his/her mouth shut before. ❜
❛ Maybe it’s time to dig a little deeper. ❜
❛ Pick one, slay one, console one, then repeat. ❜
❛ What made him/her start killing people? ❜
❛ Okay, not a lesbian, not discussing it. ❜
❛ You root for them, you love them, so when they are brutally murdered, it hurts. ❜
❛ You have to care if the team wins the big game. ❜
❛ You have to care if the smart, pretty girl forgives the dumb jock. ❜
❛ You can’t do slasher moves as a TV series. ❜
❛ You wanna feel the sting of this sexually-confused Atheist’s foot up your butt? ❜
❛ Hey, hey! I made you microwave popcorn, remember? ❜
❛ I know you want the truth. So, let’s find it. ❜
❛ A yearbook? That’s not so weird. ❜
❛ That’s the world’s saddest crime fighting duo. ❜
❛ No, I’d rather channel my anguish into something productive. ❜
❛ Did you just try to tase my man parts? ❜
❛ There are not enough happy face emojis in the world to express how much I needed that. ❜
“i’m not ––– i won’t.” there’s a certain ferocity within his groggy words even as he fights to keep his eyes open. this is no time to regret taking that sleeping pill an hour ago, not when amanda clearly needed him more than his untouched pillows. he’d stayed up past sunrise plenty-a-night without a single excuse & as far as he was concerned, this was as good a reason as any. after all this time, he’d still do anything for amanda. she knew that. at least, he hoped she did. “i’ll stay on the phone until you fall asleep. i promise.”
“nah ––– that’s lucky.” one hand on either side of the dog’s face, he leans forward in his seat & starts to scratch behind his floppy ears. his voice raises about ten octaves as he addresses the canine directly, a goofy grin playing across beer-stained lips. “who’s a good little wenchy? you are ! that’s right. you’re my favorite little dog-wench.” tone returns to normal as he shakes a baggie of treats in his direction. “here’s the plan, luck: you grab me another drink & i’ll make it worth your while in scooby snacks. sound good?”
“no. actually, yes. wait, is that a landline?” a look that borders the brink of disgust forms across confused features as he tries to place the source of the ringing. he’d nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound ––– then again, it doesn’t take much for luis to jump out of his skin these days. “guess gary’s still stuck in the nineties. i knew there was something weird about the guy. you think he has a pager too?”
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“Did you really call the police?”
“My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me!”
“You’ve seen one too many movies!”
“Movies don’t create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative!”
“No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”
“Should I let the machine get it?”
“Are you alone in the house?”
“You bitch, where the fuck are you?”
“Not so fast, we’re going to play a little game.”
“Guess who just called the police and reported your sorry motherfucking ass!”
“I think I’m dying here, man!”
“I’m going to rip you up, bitch!”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
“I’m gettin’ another beer, you want one?”
“I’ll be right back!”
“Do you like scary movies?”
“No, you listen to me you little bitch! You hang up on me again and I’ll gut you like a fish!”
“Mmmm… corn syrup. Same stuff they used for pig’s blood in ‘Carrie.’ ”
“Oh, my God. I thought you were dead.”
“I never thought I’d be so happy to be a virgin.”
“Who’s there?”
“You tricked me.”
“I wanna see breasts.”
“We all go a little mad sometimes.”
“The police are always off track with this shit! If they’d watch Prom Night, they’d save time! There’s a formula to it. A very simple formula!”
“EVERYBODY’S A SUSPECT!”
“If you were the only suspect in a senseless bloodbath - would you be standing in the horror section?”
“She was never attacked. I think she made it all up.”
“The girl has some serious issues.”
“What if she did it? What if she killed them?”
“Maybe she’s a slut, just like her mother.”
“Teen suicide is out this year and homicide is a much healthier, therapeutic expression.”
“Where do you get this shit?”
“But this is life. This isn’t a movie.”
“It’s all a movie. It’s all one great big movie. Only you can pick your genre.”
“If I’m right about this, I could save a man’s life.”
“How do you - gut someone?”
“It’s called tact, you fuck-rag.”
“It’s the millennium. Motives are incidental.”
“Well I don’t really believe in motives. I mean, did Norman Bates have a motive?”
“See, it’s a lot more scarier when there’s no motive.”
“You’re not a virgin. Now you got to die. Those are the rules.”
“This game is like a scary movie. How do you think it’s going to end?”
“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Fairness would be to rip your insides out and hang you from a tree so we can expose you for the heartless, desensitized little shits that you are!”
“I will totally protect you. Yo, I am so buff, I got you covered, girl.”
“There’s always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend.”
“That is so sexist. The killer could easily be female. Basic Instinct.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s all part of the game. It’s called, GUESS HOW I’M GONNA DIE?”
“Who am I? The beer wench?”
“Looks like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands!”
“ ‘Serial Killer’ is not really accurate. Gotta knock off a couple more to get that title.”
“If I may say so, you are much prettier in person.”
“I didn’t kill anybody.”
“You still haven’t told me your name.”
“I want to know who I’m looking at.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“How does it feel to be almost brutally butchered? People want to know. They have a right to know! How does it feel?”
“I am two seconds away from calling the police!”
“They’ll never make it in time.”
“Wait, I thought we were going to go out.”
“Don’t hang up on me.”
“I told you not to hang up on me.”
“Why can’t I be a Meg Ryan movie? Or even a good porno.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?”
“Well, you’re not going to be alone any more, right? If you pee, I pee. Is that clear?”
“It’s called subtlety. You should look it up.”
“Just think - if they make a movie about you, who’s gonna play you?”
“It’s so sad. Her mom and dad found her hanging from a tree limb, her insides on the outside.”
“I always had a thing for ya, [NAME]!”
“Cut Casper, that’s a wrap!”
“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not a killer?”
“Can you see me right now?”
“You make me so sick. Your entire havoc-inducing, thieving, whoring generation disgusts me.”
“Don’t freak yourself out, okay? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
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