Chapter 1
It was October 1st, the beginning of a spooky, ghoulish time. A holiday, a classic nuance from the jolly family humbling feelings that most holidays bring. It was a time for monsters, witches, “creepie-crawlies” and the alike to be celebrated. The idealistic notion that on Halloween night these creatures lurked in the shadows with us. Yet the truth was, they always were.
In a small town, roughly southern Louisianna, called Rilla they held a festival all month long. It was here a cult classic horror was filmed, Nights in Graves. The movie wasn’t fantastic, it was actually rather stupid. 80s gore movies weren’t really up to par in effects, especially considering the low budgets they usually dealt with if coming from an original script. Because of it’s not-so-serious reputation, it built fame from shame & humor. It was ironic to enjoy the movie-and that is why people enjoyed it so much. It was a movie everyone loved to hate. The festival would begin on this day and run the length of the month, up until Halloween night. People all over the country would travel to visit.
It was here a young girl, Belinda, would be working in their haunted house as a ghost doll. They ran practices all through September to work on perfecting jumps & scares for opening night. Every actor felt prepared, comfortable with the house and knew the run through like the back of their hand. This year would be the biggest year yet.
Belinda was taking a small snack break in her little cube of a section as they held off the line a few minutes, giving each actor a chance to rejuvinate their spunk. Her bloodied braids swung as she bobbed her head, munching on some goldfish. She heard a small snarl behind her, piercing through the music that played repeatedly. Belinda payed it no mind. She kept snacking, thinking it might be another actor or just something on the tape.
“Turn around,” she heard a voice say. But when she turned there was no one to be seen. “Hello?” She called out. She opened up a black tent flap, to the outside of the haunted house. “Hello?” She repeated. She stepped out, peering into the dark woods that were behind her. Just then she heard screams from scared walkers and quickly panicked back into place, ready for them to pass through.
“I SAID turn around!” A womans voice yelled behind her again. A crack would fall through the air but land on deaf ears as the music continued over it. Belinda was in someone’s hands, arm twisted and tilted. Just as the walkers began to reach Belinda’s section she felt sharp pains in her neck, so excruciating she began to screech at the top of her lungs. Blood seeped down her doll dress, adding to the effects of the fake blood. The lights continued to flash, music kept playing. In came the group. She locked eyes with one of them, a man. The monster was tearing into her neck, destroying it, flesh torn aggresively. Belinda cried and screamed “help me!” She pleaded them. “Please!”
The family believed it to be a part of the show, like everything else.
Belinda quickly passed out from the trauma, and the monster continued to have their way with her, with no one paying any mind even after seeing it first hand. Her body was left to drop on the floor once they were finished, her wig and dress taken, leaving her naked and dead in the haunted house.
A coworker of hers stepped into the room, being only a tent or so over. “Were you adlibing?” He was yelling over the music, “that wasn’t your usual act..” he lifted the tent cover to find her on the floor. “Holy shit.” He would run to the front through the walkway, stopping any new walkers and turning them around. “Belinda is hurt!” He kept screaming, barely audible. When he finally reached the front of the house, it was quickly shut down. Police were sent in. Belinda was pronounced dead on scene.
Despite her murder investigation, everything besides the haunted house remained open. All the food trucks and pop up shops stay, the corn maze, the haunted hay ride, even the haunted school walk through stayed open. A murder on sight would only really add to the scare factor of the festival.
As for Belinda, her coroner case seemed stumped. They could only chalk her murder up to some sort of animal that may have gotten through the back of the tent. How else could you explain the mutilation on her neck, shoulders, and thighs? People spread rumors of a real life zombie that had come, quoting the movie the festival was themed after. But no one actually believed that because zombies were of fiction.
Newspapers across the country reported on this, as well as a few online articles. It became a phenomenon. Everyone had their eyes on the Nights in Graves festival. But only a few would look to it with certain suspicion. What had really killed her? Only a certain few could find out.
