No Gein III: The Final Cut Part 8

Chapter Eight: A Familiar Face

March 14^th, 2007 Milwaukee, Wisconsin

“Welcome to your first comic book store!” Jonathan giddily announced while holding the door open for Stella. Walking into this strange new world that was Deranged Comics and Games, Stella saw unfamiliar faces looking her over. In the back, a heavy-set guy with big poofy hair sat at a table surrounded by a few other men as papers and dice lay scattered about. The table-top gamers stopped mid roll to stare at the store’s potential new customer.

“Hey, Jonathan,” a goth looking girl in a Wednesday 13 shirt greeted them with a smile, “so this is the is the girl you’d been telling me about!” Stella blushed nervously as she wasn’t always comfortable with people discussing her. Still, looking around at the other people in this store, Stella was glad to see this place wasn’t a total boys club. Stella gave a timid wave as the girl said, “I’m Rachel, the store manager. It’s great to have you here. What kind of things do you like to read?”

“Um,” Stella looked around at all the single issues, shelves filled with graphic novels tables covered in labeled boxes and answered, “all kinds of things I guess.”

“Alright, well these are our newer releases.” Rachel said while walking over a display rack against the wall covered with comics. “They’re all arranged alphabetically, and the boxes on the tables are older back issues. If you have any questions let me know.”

Stella nodded politely as Rachel went back behind the cash register. Looking at the comic book rack was like gazing upon an alien world, its god like citizens clad in spandex fighting the good fight for all time. Stella scowled at the sight of some of the barley dressed female fighters. “You know I was thinking,” she heard her boyfriend Jonathan say, “we should start a new charity.”

“Oh yeah, for what?” Stella asked, her eyes still perusing the titles.

“We should raise money to buy some more clothes for these female characters.” He quipped while holding up one of the offending floppys.

Stella rolled her eyes as she still wasn’t used to his cornball humor. “It’s a good thing I like you.” she said.

Looking back to the shelves, Stella noticed the titles displayed weren’t all spandex. She recognized some manga like Death Note and Oh My Goodness which her roommate Amber liked. There were a few horror books too, including what looked like several separate issues all with Halloween in their title.

“Rob Zombie’s Halloween.” Stella said out loud as she picked up her first comic book. The name Rob Zombie stuck out to her as she was a fan of his music and his House of 1000 Corpses movie.

“Oh, that’s right.” Jonathan went on to explain, “Rob Zombie was set to do a remake of the original Halloween, but the studio canned that so they could do Helloween. Zombie’s idea was for two movies,” Jonathan continued, “one about a young Michael Meyers in the sanitarium, the other basically redoing the Halloween night he escapes. This series is about Zombies first idea.”

“Wow, neat.” Stella said while taking issues 2-5 off the shelf.

Looking over her shoulder, her curly brushed against him as Jonathan leaned into her saying, “Supposed to be a six part series.” Jonathan then made his patented goofy smile and said, “I guess that means I’ll have to bring you back here for the sixth issue!”

He didn’t notice her blushing as his attention immediately diverted to the cover of another issue. It was a cyberpunk style collage of computer images straight out of the Matrix, only the monitors were dripping in blood. Jonathan quickly reached for issue one of Halloween: H2K Rebooted. Yanking the title off the shelf he said, “Check this out. Ever since Devil’s Due comics got the rights to the Halloween they’ve been doing all the follow ups to those anthology films. Pretty neat stuff.”

Jonathan then snatched Halloween title featuring a pair of dueling werewolves explaining, “Oh, this one is a crossover between Halloween Six and some 80’s TV show called Werewolf. Ever hear of that?”

“I don’t remember anything from the 80s. Do you?” She said teasing her boyfriend who was just a few years older.

“Oh, she burned you there Jonathan!” A thin man in a Bart Simpson T-shirt laughed as he approached and introduced himself to Stella. “Hi, I’m Aaron. Buying some Halloween comics huh?”

Stella nodded while looking down at her books. Aaron then asked, “Did you hear they’re doing a movie with Halloween and Hellraiser.”

“Helloween, right?” Stella responded, naming the title of next year’s crossover film.

“That’s right.” Aaron said excited. “Rumor is the cult leader from Halloween 3 is gonna get Michael Meyers and the characters from the anthology films; like the sea monster from H20 and the vampire from Resurrection, to team up against the Cenobites! Trying to top Freddy vs the Devil I guess.”

Another man approached and chimed in, “Hey Jonathan, that reminds me, did you hear they’re doing a comic crossing Pumpkinhead with Friday the 13^th? It’s gonna be called Devil of Evil, Demon of Vengeance.”

“No Paul, I haven’t.” Jonathan said, but looking at his shirt, filled with the image of the titular character from the hillbilly horror movie known as Pumpkinhead, he added “and I can’t tell who your money’s on either.”

Paul then laughed saying “Wow, my sarcasm detector is going off the charts.”

Aaron then mimicked holding a scanning device, and in a nasally voice said, “Oh, a sarcasm detector, that’s a really useful invention!”

While the four all laughed together Stella saw a familiar face walked out from the back of the store. “Jesus mighty, you guys need to make like Jon and get a girlfriend.” Stella knew she’d seen this man before, with his mustache and dyed orange hair, but she couldn’t remember where.

“Oh hey, it’s Harry, the owner.” Jonathan pointed to him and said to Stella, “This is guy is like the Howard Hughes of comics. Remember this moment as we don’t see him here that often.” Then looking to the shop’s owner he said, “Harry, this is Stella, you might not recognize her, as last time you saw her it looked like she was dancing in a barbecue pit.”

“Oh,” Harry recalled, excitedly pointing at her saying, “you were at the movie dressed up as Freddy Krueger.”

Stella shyly nodded as Harry complimented, “That was a great costume!”

“Thanks.” She wondered how much he meant it, given she was slim and not all buff like Nightmare on Elm Street’s Kane Hodder.

“Have you been finding everything OK?” The owner asked.

Stella held up her Zombie Halloween comics as John said, “Yeah, it’s your lucky day. She’s about to buy her first comics!”

“Awesome,” Eying the five titles she held Harry said “Just so you know, issue six of that will probably come out next week. Despite how Johnny boy here is crackin on me, I’m always here on Wednesdays. You can come by and pick it up then.”

“Sounds like a date.” Stella said.

“Well how about that!” Jonathan jokingly protested. “You know some guys have a story about losing their girl to Mick Jagger or Robert Plant, here I lost my girl to Comic Book Guy!”

By the following Monday Stella had forgotten all about that humorous exchange as she stared at the computer monitor. “Bleep, bleep, bleep,” and the sound of the clacking keyboard echoed through the dormitory. Over AOL instant messenger Jonathan informed Stella of a poetry reading at the coffee shop that would be held in two nights. The memories of their first date lingered in her nostrils as she recalled the smell of freshly ground coffee. Memories of hot java were replaced by the actual present aroma of melted butter. “Hey love bird,” Amber said “I made some popcorn. It’s almost showtime.”

“Oh right!” Stella realized she’d lost track of time and excitedly typed “c ya l8r” into the instant messenger chat window. She smirked as her computer instantly bleeped back with the message “Not if I see you first.” Stella then left her desk to join her roommates on the couch.

The A&E network was on the television and the station hyped its series premier. Bates Motel was a prequel to Psycho set in the 1970’s. Early in the episode, an old car with luggage tied to the top drives by the beautiful Oregon coast. To one side were mountains lush with greenery, while the other side small waves crept onto the sands as the scene was scored with soft piano music. The scene then cut to an interior shot of the car, driven by the youthful beauty that was Norma Bates. In the passenger seat, her teenage son Norman flipped through the radio dial, stopping on a news broadcast that altered the mood of the splendid scenery about them.

Stella’s ears perked up as she heard the familiar voice on the show’s car radio. “in one of the most shocking and brutal crimes in the annals of American history.”

“Who is that?” Stella wondered aloud.

“Oh right, I heard about this.” her flatmate Michelle answered. “That’s Jon Larroquette.”

“Larro-who?” Stella asked.

“He was on an 80s show called Night Court.”

“Did you watch that when you were a kid?” Amber coyly asked.

“Fuck, I’m not that old!” the senior student said while playfully tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

“Anyway,” Michelle added, “he did the opening narration in the Texas Chainsaw movies.”

“Oh, right.” Stella said.

“Yeah, I heard the guy that directed Chainsaw pitched for Larroquette to have this bit.” Michelle said, pointing at the screen. “He pitched the TV show to appease the studio after killing Norman off in Psycho II. In his notes he had this idea kind of backhandedly tying in Psycho with chainsaw.”

“Isn’t that that director that disappeared or something?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, Stella,” Michelle chimed in, “aren’t you reading a book about him?”

“Yeah?“

“So where is he?” Michelle asked.

“Buried at my house.”

Michelle laughed. “Stella you’re hilarious.” 

“Yeah, just kidding,” Stella said, “he’s tied up in my room.”

“Jonathan better not find out.” Amber cracked on her before asking, “but really what do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know. The book talks about this obsessed fan he had who they suspect murdered his sister. They both disappeared, so who knows.”

“Man that’s fucked up. I heard he killed himself.”

Stella tensed as those words were spoken. She loved these girls. In her short time here they became like a new family to her, but not even they knew of that dark night she had all those years ago.

After the TV episode was over, Stella went back to her desk, carrying with her a peculiar feeling she just couldn’t shake. That book they were talking about sat at her desk. Thumbing through it, she found a picture of George Kohler. He looked heavier his face looked fuller than she remembered him looking on TV. It was an old picture from before he broke into the business. Back then he had this bombastically big poofy hair. As she focused on his eyes, there was a familiarity with him she couldn’t place, it wasn’t just from seeing him on TV. Placing a bookmark to keep the page she pulled out her sketch book. Her pencil scratched the pages, lines formed the facial features of the missing and possibly departed director. The top of the pencil floated up to George’s forehead, about to draw his massive mop of hair, but it stopped. Almost instinctively, the pencil drew a crew cut on the head instead. The wooden pencil then returned down to the face where it drew a small mustache above its lips. Her hand dropped the pencil as she looked down at her work. Her hand then reached for her colored pencils, her fingers gripped the utensil that was orange in color. Stella was able to see the finished product in her mind before she continued. Thinking back on her day, butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the thought fully dawned on her. It was not a sensation of fear, as if she had something to be afraid of, but it was a shock, a realization of a truth that had stood before her. Still looking down at her drawing while her hand effortlessly colored the sketch pad, she knew it was true. The resemblance was uncanny.

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Seven

Chapter Seven: The Shower

Customer: Bartender, what’s a Gein beer?

Bartender: It’s got lots of body, but no head.

Why did Ed Gein always have the heat on in his house?

So, his furniture wouldn’t get goosebumps.

November 2nd 2004

George hated to admit it, but that last one was pretty funny. While surfing the web looking at various horror sites, George stumbled upon an Angelfire page called the Ed Gein Appreciation Zine. While George wasn’t appreciative of the adoration expressed towards this deranged individual that terrorized his Aunt, he was impressed with the thoroughness of site’s information. He knew, had circumstances been different, he himself would have designed a site like this. What little information about Gein’s life, as well as his grave robbing and apparent murder of Mary Hogan were all covered in gruesome detail. Of course, much of the site’s information was “borrowed” from Kohler’s own book Deranged, which detailed the personal and disturbing story of how George came to learn the secret to his Aunt’s madness.  

However, there were a few original essays, such as one comparing Gein to Norman Bates, the character from Psycho, as well as Gein’s influence on George’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Reading the article about Chainsaw, George chuckled to himself as he remembered how people falsely assumed that his remake took inspiration from Jeffrey Dahmer.

Then there were these Geiners, morbid jokes about Ed that were all the rage now. While he couldn’t help but have some respect for the gallow’s humor, what was not amusing was a section of the website that directed it’s ire towards George himself. “George Kohler is a fucking pussbag.” read the page titled No Gein Movie? “He’s had the greatest story in the history of modern horror fall right into his lap and that fucking tool won’t act on it. The fat lazy fuck is sitting at home counting his millions while the greatest horror movie ever goes unmade.” George shook his head as he wiped the sweat still hanging off his brow. Just before he sat down at the computer, he was working out on his bowflex machine. Taking a sip of water, he continued reading. “Kohler owes it to us fans. Let him know we demand our Ed Gein movie.” Then one of George’s personal email addresses was listed below for the world to see.

“Ah shit, I guess I’ll have to close that account now.” George thought to himself. It was a shame too, because he used this particular email to talk to fans. Opening this email account, he scrolled through hundreds of messages, most of which had clever subject titles like Make that Gein Movie or Die or Gein Film or Bust. Messages like “advice for breaking into the film business,” or honest fan questions about his films were now few and far between. While this was certainly annoying, George was able to brush it off. He remembered himself firing off angry messages in Friday the 13^th forums, especially toward the director of Friday the 13^th Part Five, The New Horns. It was embarrassing now to think he had acted like these trolls once. Perhaps it was some form of Kharmic justice.

The wanderings of George’s mind were interrupted by the ringing of his flip phone.  “Is this my famous director brother?” the familiar voice said on the other end.

“Well, I think I’m still famous.” George answered his sister as he looked back at the monitor and its angry emails. “Though looking at some of the online chatter its maybe more infamous.”

His sister Helen laughed as she said, “Well I hope you’re not too famous to join us for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely be in for that.” George assured her. “Sorry I couldn’t see you after Hallow-con, I had to fly back to LA and sort shit out for Psycho III. Also, big news,” his voice raised in excitement as he rapidly spoke, “something opened up at Paramount. Tomorrow, I got a meeting about maybe directing the next Friday the 13^th film, Freddy vs the Devil vs Ash!”

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Helen was well aware of her brothers life-long love of the Friday the 13^th franchise. The two of them spent many a night watching them on TV when they were kids. Their father even once took them on a camping trip in New Jersey to look for the legendary Jersey Devil. “You’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’m sure you’re gonna do great.”

“I hope so.” George said humbly.

“Well, you’ll have to let me know how it went over Turkey.”

“Sure thing. How’s the Chuckster?”

“He’s good. He’s just hanging out watching TV now.” Helen then looked to her husband, who she saw looking out the window. From outside she could hear their dog barking as the sun set behind the homes across the street. “What’s wrong hon?”

“I don’t’ know, the dog’s acting up.” George heard her brother in law Charles say. “Probably barking at the skateboarders again.”

The dog’s barking then stopped as Helen said, “Anyway, I’ll see you soon. I’m real proud of you.”

“Thanks Helen. You know I’m proud of you too.” Hanging up the phone, George closed the window of his email and started began to work.  

Opening a word document, he began jotting down ideas for Freddy vs the Devil vs Ash. The Necronomicon, was a good place to start. That mysterious and evil book which originally appeared in the prose of H.P. Lovecraft before being used in the Evil Dead series was a natural fit to tie the three franchises together. Maybe Ash Williams, the Deadite slaying hero of the Evil Dead series from the evil dead series would work at the Crystal Lake S-Mart, the fictional equivalent of Wall-Mart. George then typed out random ideas for how the Freddy, the Devil, and Ash would interact. Maybe Freddy could use the Necronomicon to bring back the Devil’s past victims as Dead-ites, the creatures of the Evil Dead series.

Even cooler, he thought to himself, would be if the surviving characters from Friday the 13^th and Nightmare on Elm Street would appear, such as Friday’s Tina Shepard and Nightmare’s Alice Johnson. This could be the horror equivalent of Crisis on Infinite Earths, the epic DC Comics story from 20 years prior which featured pretty much every DC comics character. George leaned back and stopped himself for a moment. He remembered his departed mentor Robert Bloch, advising him against over-stuffing his stories. “A good story is like a good recipe.” He recalled Bloch telling him. “Too much stuff can ruin it, just stick with what you need.” Still, he felt really intrigued about this idea of surviving characters from past films. Who knows, maybe this idea could be in the next sequel? Yet again, George knew to restrain himself. Knowing how Hollywood works, he was aware of the dangers of getting too far ahead of himself. He knew to take things one movie at a time.

“You know I’m proud of you too.”

Helen felt glad to hear that from her brother as she hung up the phone. “I’m going to take a shower.” she said to her husband as she felt the cool November breeze blowing into their house. “Chuck?” she said as she looked out the open door. She didn’t hear the dog barking anymore, but she didn’t see her husband either. She figured he probably went to talk to the neighbors and closed the door behind her making sure it was unlocked.

In the safe comfort of her shower, she thought about how the relationship between her and her brother had grown stronger over the last few years. They were close as young kids, spending afternoons playing outside and watching monster movies at night. Once they moved east, their teenage years found them drifting apart, especially when he developed that massive ego. Strangely enough, fame seemed to have made George humble. Well, there were other reasons too. Especially since their father died, that was so hard on both of them, not to mention how bizarre and macabre that whole situation was. “Be careful in the shower.” Helen hated remembered the dying words of her father, rambling and nonsensical in his final moments. While lost in thought, the steam from the shower formed a fog around Helen as her mind wandered to that place where she was still bitter; resentful that her father had been taken from then so soon, just a few years after they’d all grown closer as a family. At the very least, she was appreciative of George, who often took the time out of his busy schedule to check on how she and Chuck were doing.

What she didn’t know was that Chuck wasn’t doing well, not anymore. His body now rested in the bushes and wouldn’t be found until the next day. As she’d drifted in that mental fog, she didn’t hear the light footprints enter her bathroom. She did hear the shower curtain pull back, and she heard herself scream as the knife plunged into her body. She had no idea who Franklin was, but as her brother’s stalker repeatedly plunged his steel into her, she knew his face would be the last thing she ever saw.

George’s head was swimming with the possibilities of another sequel to these franchises. Taking a break from his brainstorming, he closed the window on his word document to find his Firefox web browser still open. It was then he noticed something on that Gein fansite hadn’t noticed before. Clicking on ‘Gein Today,’ he uncovered some more recent and gruesome news. According to this page, Gein apparently now had a copy-cat. In Plainfield Wisconsin, where Ed resided and is buried, someone dug up several graves, apparently the same graves Gein himself violated half a century prior. A jepeg file of the local newspaper clippings seemingly confirmed this crime to be true. Adding a gruesome showman ship to the foul acts, a color photo, separate from the newspaper clipping showed some of the remains were laid out on the cemetery grass in such a way that they spelled out a word, one word. Ed. Even worse than that, the bodies of two youths, a young couple that just graduated high school, were found murdered in the cemetery. The webmaster of this morbid site seemed to take particular delight in describing the tragic death of what seemed like a bright and beautiful young girl.

“Enough of that.” George thought to himself, clicking on the X closing that awful window. He didn’t feel much better as he again checked his email to find even more messages from demented fans demanding a Gein movie. His mouse clicked on the small boxes as he prepared to delete them, but one message caught his eye. ‘Your pretty sister.’ the subject read. “What the fuck? Not cool messing with family.” he thought to himself as he clicked on the message. Text at the top indicated this was a follow up to an earlier message. “I’m warning you.” The older message read. “If a Gein movie is not in development by Horror-con, your family will pay.” George hadn’t recalled seeing this message before. He probably deleted it on sight just as he had most of these crazy messages. But the new email below sent a chill through his spine as it read. “You’d been warned.” Below the text were a series of icons indicating this email contained several images that would soon be visible.

George grew cold as the Jpeg files loaded on his monitor. He recognized that house, that home that he’d plan to visit in just a few weeks, the dining room where he planned to cut the Thanksgiving Turkey, the TV they would watch football on. George quickly grabbed his phone and speed dialed Helen. The phone kept ringing as image after image of Helen’s home loaded on the screen. Scrolling down the email, the trail of jpeg files led up Helen’s steps, down the hallway, and finally, through the bathroom door. George almost vomited at the site of the red streaks staining the shower curtains. Finally, the last agonizing image loaded. There, laying in the tub, naked and violated, was George’s sister Helen.

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Six

Chapter Six: Don’t Go In The House

Psycho: Movies, Murder, Madness and the Disappearance of George Kohler

Kohler’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre opens with a decayed corpse sitting atop a tombstone. After this shocking image, we get the film’s scant plot involving Sally and her brother checking on their grandfather’s grave after hearing news of several local cemeteries being desecrated. Along the way, they run into a family of cannibalistic murders, least of which is the newly named Leatherface; who replaces Saw-Man from the original 1974 film as the Chainsaw wielding maniac who dons several masks of human skin.

Along with its massive success, much controversy surrounded the 2003 remake. Victim’s rights groups suggested Kohler had taken inspiration from Milwaukee murderer Jeffrey Dahmer, whose apartment was found to have various skeletons and other human remains. The home of the maniacal family in Kohler’s Chainsaw film seemed to have taken cues from Dahmer, with its chairs covered in bones, human skin lampshades and bed posts made of skulls. However, was there possibly an earlier influence on this film that was unknown at the time?

Before his time in Hollywood, George was in correspondence with author Robert Bloch regarding an unproduced screenplay George wrote called Deranged. Bloch was a relatively successful novelist and television writer, but never attained true breakout success until his later years when he published the 1993 novel Psycho. Bloch personally arranged for the then unknown George Kohler to be the director on Psycho’s film adaptation, which closely follows the novel.

Norman Bates, an eccentric hotel owner devoted to his live-in mother, is the lead character in both the film and novel. Following several murders comes one of the great surprise endings in film, as it is revealed that Norman’s mother is actually long dead. Her body is preserved by her son and kept in her old bedroom. Even more shocking, Norman dresses as his dead mother, and, apparently suffering from dissociative personality disorder, “becomes” his mother, murdering anyone perceived to be a threat to her son. Psycho turned out to be more shocking to audiences than Silence of the Lambs which was released just a few years prior.

Published just before the author’s death, Bloch was very tight lipped about what inspired him to write such a tale. Upon closer inspection, the name Norman is close to the word normal. Norman of course is not normal, but desperately attempts to don the appearance of normalcy. This seemingly normal man lives in a secluded area with his fanatical mother while hiding a terrible secret. Parallels to Edward Gein are obvious.  

“What are you reading?” Stella’s father momentarily took his eyes off the road to ask.

Holding up the book cover she answered, “It’s about George Kohler.”

“Oh, wasn’t he that movie director?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she answered as her eyes diverted back to the pages.

“Didn’t his mom or somebody run into that Psycho down in Plainfield years ago?” He asked as his eyes focused back on the road.

“It was his Aunt.” she answered while continuing to read.

Thinking back to the local story that made global headlines he recalled. “Yeah, I remember that in the news a few years ago when they found all those bodies. Crazy stuff.” Then, glancing at her book, he added. “What ever happened to that director guy? Didn’t he vanish or something?”

“Yeah, this book talks about it. No one knows what happened. It says he had some crazy fans. Some of them wanted him to make a movie about that Plainfield guy but he didn’t want to. One theory is that a fan killed him.”

“I remember hearing that.” her father recalled. “One story I heard was he checked himself into the Mendota institution up in Madison. Who knows though; can’t believe everything you see on the internet right?”

Approaching their hometown of Amherst, he smiled as the sun hung ahead of them. He was so proud of his daughter. They’d both been through so much loss and hurt, but now he was a year sober, and she was off to college and seemed to have met someone special. He got to meet Stella’s boyfriend today when he picked her up from college. He seemed a little eccentric, but so was his daughter. Either way, Stella seemed really happy, happier than he’d seen her in a long time.

“So, Jonathan huh?” he said. “You really like this guy?”

“Yeah.” Stella said, blushing. She then turned away from her book and looked out the window, the flat plains of Wisconsin lay stretched out to the horizon.

“Well that’s great.” Her father said. “Listen, you know I love you, and, and I know,” he was stammering his words now, “I know you’re not a little kid anymore.” It grew more and more uncomfortable for him the closer he got to the subject. “Just use protection, OK?

“Dad!”

“Okay, okay!” As uncomfortable as that exchanged was, he had to laugh a little as it’d been a long time since he’d seen his daughter show so much emotion as she just had in that moment. “Okay, I’m just saying.”

Finally coming into their hometown, he saw a large white house on the side of the road. It looked empty now, but he was grateful for its presence and the opportunity it provided to change the subject. “That there’s a Kohler property.” He said pointing to the house. “From what I remember, George bought it for his dad.” He saw her glance at the building and its empty driveway as he continued. “Who knows, maybe he’s hiding out there.”

Her dad couldn’t stay long once they got home as he had to go in for the night shift at his new job. Once she dropped her things off in her old room, she went into what was her sister’s room. Before leaving for college, her father converted Juliana’s old room into a studio for Stella. He also kept a small desk there which he occasionally worked out of, so they both shared this space that once belonged to Juliana. In a way, it helped them both heal. Using this room helped them to move on. They both agreed to keep one thing of Julianna’s, her trophy case remained intact, still glowing in the light of the room.

Stella sat at the chair in her desk. Looking at the spot where Juliana’s bed used to be, she remembered and reflected. Her short time in university was the best time of her life, probably better than all of her life before that really. Now looking at the window at the lonely landscape outside, she thought about how she was now back in this place where she didn’t have any friends. At least spring break was only a week. She supposed she could call Meghan, that girl she knew from high school, but she was probably busy. Stella made no real plans for this week. It’s not like she could afford go to Palm Beach or wherever other college kids on TV go for Spring Break. Tomorrow she would give Jonathan a call, but tonight she intended to just stay home and read. However, as the book cover faced up, looking back at her, and she could only think of one thing.

The sun was so far behind her now. As it dipped into the horizon Stella rode her bike down the gravel road towards the large white house ahead of her. Placing her bike in the nearby tree line, she crept toward the house and the looming darkness around it. No lights were visible inside and as she ascended the creaky porch steps she had no idea what she would tell do should she find anyone. “Hi George, I’m Stella, I’m a big fan of your movies and I just wanted to see if you were hiding here.” What could she say? “Hello.” was all she could think of as she wrapped on the door. No curtains hung from any of the windows of the house. Placing the edge of her hands around her forehead she pressed her face towards the large pane of glass on the front porch. Looking inside, most of the furniture was gone. There was an old dusty couch and a few cardboard boxes, but otherwise it looked empty. She jumped and quickly turned around as a breeze blew accompanied by a loud banging noise, it sounded like wood banging on wood. There was nothing behind her, and she realized the sound was coming from around the back of the house.

Walking around the perimeter of the home, Stella noticed a security camera posted to the wall. It remained still, and, looking closer, she realized its light was off. It was long dead. Coming to the back of the house, she found the source of the noise. The back door was open, occasionally slamming shut with the wind. “Hello.” she spoke again as she poked her dead inside. There was still no answer. She pulled a flashlight out her backpack, bringing a little light  into the house while the sun faded away. Inside the kitchen, the refrigerator sat silently. No light emerged from within as its door opened revealing empty contents inside. Walking up the steps to the second floor she found each of the bedrooms to be empty, except one.

This must have been George Kohler’s home. Horror posters remained on the wall, including Friday the 13^th Part VIII, the Devil Takes Manhattan, and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Next to Saw-Man and his chainsaw the text of the poster read, “Who will survive and what will be left of them?” This room was like a shrine to horror movies. Various props and memorabilia sat about. Stella noticed a prop knife along with a wig and dressed that looked like it was from Psycho. A prop chainsaw hung on the wall. There was also a desk with a stack of papers. Rummaging through the desk drawer, she’d found an old, typed screenplay called Deranged, written by George Kohler dated 1989. Flipping through the script, inside the first few pages were photographs. A few of them looked like they were George when he was young. Most of them were of a woman, whom Stella realized was his sister. “Such a shame,” Stella thought to herself. All the other rooms were bare, no clothes, no other personal items, but this room remained intact. Why would all this stuff have been left here?

Looking down, Stella realized that wasn’t the strangest thing about this room. A series of cuts were visible on the floor. Kneeling down, her fingertips traced the grooves in the wood. There were four short cuts, and they weren’t random. In fact, as the frame of her upper body faced downwards, Stella realized the top two marks lined up with her shoulders. Standing up she continued looking down and realized the bottom two marks would have lined up with her hips had she been laying there. These marks weren’t deep and weren’t clean cuts that would have been made with a knife or an axe. It looked like someone took a power tool to the floor. It looked like the marks of a chainsaw.

That wooden door downstairs was still banging, sending echoes through the house, but now there was another sound, the sound of footsteps. Someone else was in the house. Now it was several footsteps she heard, followed by the sound of giggling. “Time to get fucked up.” an adolescent male voice said followed by the crackling sound of an aluminum can opening.

“I’m already high man.” the voice of another boy followed.

Stella quietly crept to the bathroom as the commotion continued downstairs. Luckily the door was able to be locked. At least she wouldn’t get in trouble for trespassing, she thought to herself, as whoever these kids were, they were trespassing themselves.

“I heard that movie director haunts this place.” She heard the first voice say.

“Bullshit.” She heard the other voice reply.

“No man, he was in a cult and summoned up some demonic shit here. They say the devil took his soul.”

Stella almost laughed as she heard the juvenile speculation. It sounded like there was only two of them, but there was still only one of her. She could remain hidden in this bathroom if worse came to worse, but she was long passed tired of hiding. Besides, rummaging through her backpack, she found an old makeup kit. Looking in the cracked mirror, she had an idea.

“What was that?” One of the voices said as the soundtrack from the Psycho movie played on Stella’s Walkman. Its volume was turned up all the way so the sound from the headphones filled the empty house.

“Sounds like its upstairs.” the other voice said as their footsteps approached the stairwell. Their own flashlights shined up to the second floor and screams followed, for what these boys saw seemed inhuman. Borrowing from the special edition of the Exorcist, released just a few years prior, Stella did a spider-walk down the steps. Her hands served as feet as her chest faced the ceiling leaving her head hanging upside down. Makeup formed red and black shapes around her face as her mouth hung agape releasing a terrible screeching sound. The boys almost fell over screaming before frantically running out the door, dropping their beer cans behind them and abandoning their six packs.

Adrenaline still rushed through Stella as she rode her bike home. The night breeze blew softly on her still made-up face. Anyone who might happen to drive by and see her might have been scared to death, but fortunately no one else was around. For once, the solitude of Kodak country was a comfort to her as she rode home in the night. She laughed to herself as she thought back to those boys running out of the house in terror. Still, this humorous thought couldn’t smother that creeping feeling she had. As her own house lay ahead, the warm lights still glowing inside, one horrible thought rattled in her mind. Did she just see the place where George Kohler was murdered?

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Four

Chapter Four: That First Kiss

Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Spring 2007

It was her second semester living at the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design and she was loving it. The weather was warm again as she sat at a park bench in Catalano Square across the street from her campus. It was there that she heard a voice ask, “That’s Mushroomhead right?” The girl looked up to see another student pointing at her shirt.

Her head nodded and a little smile escaped her lips as she looked up. She had seen this guy around campus but didn’t know his name. Aside from his shoulder length reddish hair, he looked a bit like Jim Carrey from Ace Ventura.

“Cool, I saw them at The Rave last year. Ever go there?” This time she nodded her head no, as the man immediately went to his next question. “So, do you like horror movies?”

“Why?” she asked nervously.

“Just asking.” He then extended his hand as if closing a formal business deal, saying, “I’m Jonathan.”

“Not Larry?” she replied, leaving his hand hanging in the air. Over a Spiderman shirt Jonathan wore a brown collared top with a ‘Patticoni Printing’ label stitched on its right breast and the name “Larry” embroidered above it.

Jonathan looked down at his shirt with a mischievous smirk. “Oh, I just wear these for fun.” He then asked, “So, I heard you’re a horror fan?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” she answered as she wondered why this guy was talking to her.

Jonathan then mimicked the voice of the Ghost Face Killer from the Scream series, asking, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

The girl leaned back on the bench, startled by the wicked gleam in his eye while his right hand mimicked holding a telephone, but, seeing her reaction, his expression immediately changed. “Oh, sorry, just kidding,” he said, holding his hand up, palm facing towards her. “Don’t mace me.”

Still leaning back cautiously, she did manage to relax a little as he asked her “Have you seen the new Freddy, Devil, Ash movie yet?”

“No, not yet.” She answered as she perked up. She was interested in this sequel to Freddy vs the Devil, the crossover film between Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13^th. This entry added another franchise to the mix with Ash, the lead character of the Evil Dead series.

“Well,” it sounded like Jonathan’s wall of confidence shook for just for a moment as he spat it out. “I’m off work Friday but I have to work Saturday so I was wondering if you’d like to see a movie with me Friday?” His words ran out of his mouth like a runaway train going down the tracks. It was as though had his words not escaped at that exact moment they would have been trapped, forever stalled at the train station of his dreams.

“Yes.” She felt her eyes widen as her own single word emerged, expressing shock that her vocal cords even formed the sound of that word before her brain even considered it.

“Groovy!” Jonathan said, now mimicking Ash from the Evil Dead. “Hey,” Jonathan’s voice was once again confident and energetic as he suggested, “wouldn’t it be fun if we were in costume? I’m gonna go as Ash.”

“Ok.” She never dreamed of dressing up for a movie before, but it sounded fun.

“You live in the Two50Two building right?” Stella nodded, indicating that was correct. A few exceptions aside, all full time Freshman and Sophomore students were required to live in the Two50Two building.

“Great, I’ll meet you in front of Two50Two, let’s say at five fifty-five?” Jonathan beamed with pride at the corny word pun he just made.

Stella rolled her eyes but said “OK.”

“Awesome.” He grinned at her in triumph. Then, his eyes darted about before he said. “Oh, I suppose you should know who you’re going with.” Extending his hand as if closing a formal business deal, he, “I’m Jonathan.”

“Not Larry?” she replied, leaving his hand hanging in the air. Over a Spiderman shirt Jonathan wore a brown collared top with a ‘Patticoni Printing’ label stitched on its right breast and the name “Larry” embroidered above it.

Jonathan looked down at his shirt with a mischievous smirk. “Oh, I just wear these for fun. My name really is Jonathan.” Reaching for his wallet he said, “I can show you my id if you want!”

“That’s OK.” the girl said, laughing. He couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was actually serious, but it was cute either way.

Then, pointing at her, he said, “And you’re Stella, right.”

“Right.” she blushed, it hadn’t occurred to her to share her name.

“Ok great. So, see you Friday?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, smell ya later!” Jonathan said as he strutted away.

That Friday Stella’s doormats helped her get her cos-play ready. Jonathan was going as Ash. The Jersey Devil of the Friday the 13^th series was a full body suit, which seemed too daunting at this short notice. Hence, Stella would go as Freddy. Amber, one of her dorm mates, lent Stella her black and red sweater that resembled that of the horror villain’s. Stella pulled it over her and saw it fit well while Raina, another dorm mate, helped her with her makeup. After a coat of face paint, Stella appeared to have been horribly burned, just like the character she was cos playing. Tucking her long blonde hair under a black hat, it felt uncanny as she looked in the mirror and saw Freddy Krueger staring back at her.

“There’s just one thing missing!” her other dorm mate Michelle excitedly said. As Michelle approached it appeared she was delicately holding something in her hands. Stella’s disfigured appearing face cracked a smile that glowed through her make up as Michelle presented her a brown leather glove with plastic extensions protruding from the fingers mimicking Freddy’s claws. “I got this last Halloween, but you can have it.”

“Aww, thanks Michelle.” Stella said as she pulled the glove over her slender hand.

The girls collectively looked at Stella’s reflection in the full body mirror and were in amazed at the transformation. Looking over her slender figure, Amber said. “That is one fine Freddy!”

Waiting outside the dorms her outlook darkened as the sun began to dip, its last rays reaching out over the Milwaukee River. She got a few stares from people passing by. Some were startled, others expressed concern as they glanced her seemingly charred face. Stella wondered if anyone even got who she was supposed to be. Stella looked at her watch, it was five fifty-four. As a cool April breeze blew by and the stares continued from passerby’s, she wondered if all of this was such a good idea.

“Hail to the king baby!” Just in the nick of time, Stella heard Jonathan’s booming voice. He confidently walked toward her dressed in a long sleeved buttoned-down blue top. As he drew closer, she noticed the “Shop smart, shop S-Mart,” patch stitched into the shirt. Naturally, the name ‘Ash’ was embroidered above it. Like her, he also bore a costumed glove resembling a metal gauntlet.

“Wow, you look amazing!” He said as he saw her scarred face and her own gloved hand.

“Thanks.” she said, looking over herself, almost forgetting her costume. Then, noticing Jonathan was carrying a small backpack, she asked, “What’s that for.”

“Oh, that’s something for later.” He answered as he raised his costumed fist up where she met him with a light fist bump. She smiled as their costumed hands connected. Just for a moment, it felt electric. In the movies Freddy wasn’t slim, and actor Bruce Campbell didn’t have long reddish hair, but here, on this night, these two were perfect just as they were.

They made small talk on the bus to the theater. Jonathan did most of the talking actually, prattling on about his classes and such. Getting off the bus near the Avalon Atmospheric Theater, Stella felt a pit in her stomach as a small crowd gathered at the entrance. Some patrons were even dressed up like they were. “Just a minute.” Jonathan said as Stella faced the theater. Jonathan stopped to open his backpack from which he pulled out a toy shotgun, the handle of which appeared to have been removed. He rolled up the blue sleeve of his gloved hand and, via a contraption on his prop gun attached the barrel to his limb, making it appear not that his hand was holding the gun, but that his hand was the gun. “My boom stick!” Jonathan proudly proclaimed.

Stella covered her made up face with her own gloved hand, nearly poking herself with the plastic extensions as she giggled. “Oh my god, you’re nuts.”

Approaching the crowd in front of the theater, Stella pulled the brim of her hat down in an attempt to hide her face as the sound of clicking cameras surrounded them. She stood close to Jonathan, moving slightly behind him as he gallantly posed for pictures spouting Bruce Campbell quotes. She couldn’t believe this guy. In a way, he looked ridiculous, but he relished every moment.

After Jonathan bought tickets for the two of them, they entered the lobby to find a few others in costume. Stella was surprised to see a few people actually made full body costumes to dress up as Friday the 13^th’s Jersey Devil. Random other monsters were there too, including the werewolf from Halloween Six, Pinhead, and a few other Freddy’s. One cos-player got her attention, it was a character who had quite an impact on her life. There before her, in a fairly accurate costume, was Saw-Man. She instantly zoned out while watching the lead villain from Texas Chainsaw Massacre , not hearing anything around her.

“I said, are you supposed to be Freddy Krueger?” A condescending voice snapped her back to the theater, where in front of her stood a bald obese man with his own chocolate stained unbuttoned S-mart shirt staring at her. Through his thick glasses his eyes looked her over disapprovingly. “Freddy Krueger is supposed to be jacked!” Stella looked down, her eyes avoiding the fanboy and focused on her own slim figure.

Jonathan came to her side and interjected. “Hey, what movie was that where Ash had a giant beer gut?” he quipped, pointing to the man’s belly. Stella let out a small chuckle but still avoided eye contact.

“Whatever.” the man said, walking away dismissively.

“Don’t let that asshole bother you.” Stella heard another male voice say. “You look great!”

“Thanks.” Stella said as her gaze moved upward away from the floor where she saw another large but more fit man with short peroxide blonde hair.

“But I have to tell you something.” the man said. “The Devil wants his rematch.”

The best of the Devil cos-players lumbered towards her. His claws extended outwards, and his fang filled jaw hissed at Stella who stood motionless. She wasn’t scared, she was amazed. The level of detail in this costume was awe inspiring. She couldn’t even dream of being talented enough to make something like this. “Do you mind if I get a picture with you?” The Devil cos-player asked.

“That’d be awesome.” Jonathan answered for her as he took his own camera out of his backpack. The two horror villains faced off in the theater lobby. Stella held up her pretend bladed glove, but her face was blank, her makeup simply hung expressionless on her face.

After a snap of the camera Jonathan interjected. “Come on Stella show some ferocity. You’re the stuff of nightmares!” he said standing next to her mimicking her own pose as he coached. “Here, like this.” Jonathan hissed and glared at the devil with a fierce stare.

Stella’s lips parted, her teeth slightly protruded foreword as she posed for another picture.

“That’s better, now put some snarl into it!” Jonathan said stepping away.

Stella’s lips slid further apart, her eyes widened and her arms tensed as her gloved hand remained pointed to her fictional opponent. Out of the corner of her eye she could see she’d drawn some attention. Other people stopped and were taking pictures of her. Among the picture takers she could see that obnoxious fanboy walking away. It was then that, somewhere within her, an intensity emerged. Feelings long smothered, shamed and shunned, rose from her within her guts, up through her lungs and out of her vocal cords. From her lips sprung horrifying hiss that scared the Devil himself.

“Beautiful baby beautiful.” Jonathan clapped in approval. Stella’s gloved hand shook as it returned to her side as she wondered if those around her were as startled as she was of what had just come out of her.

“Thanks a million.” The older man said. The lobby lights flashed indicating the real show was about to begin. Turning to Jonathan the older man asked the three co-splayers, “Mind if I get a quick one with the three of you?”

Stella’s hands were still shaking, but she managed a deep relaxing breath as she felt Jonathan place his arm around her. The Devil stood happily to her side, as there would be no posing for this photo. The three cos-players smiled as if the characters they portrayed were all best friends.

As the theater grew dark the first trailer began. The lullaby “Hush Little Baby Don’t Say a Word” was softy sung by an older woman as the audience witnessed scenes of a desolate landscape. “What is this?” Jonathan asked. Once that whirring sound effect hit, Stella, as well as others in the audience, knew instantly. “Every Legend,” the chalk white text read on the screen followed by shots of R. Lee Ermey of ‘Full Metal Jacket’ fame playing the patriarch of a family of maniacs. ‘has a beginning.’ The text concluded, as a group of young people are dispatched while cries of terror came from both the silver screen and the in theater audience.

“It’s Chainsaw.” Stella answered before the logo emblazoned the screen. Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning was a prequel to the 2003 remake of the cult 70’s hit. This franchise was all too familiar to Stella, as it accidentally played a crucial role in the young girl’s life.

Once the feature presentation began, the crowd cheered wildly at the title screen. Stella had never experienced theater goers cheering for a movie before. Looking around at the enthusiastic fans, she saw that older man sitting with his Devil costumed friend. The cos-player clapped his clawed hands, but the other man sat still in his seat. In fact, as the light glowed on his face, it looked like he had shed a tear. “He must really be a big fan.” she thought to herself as the movie began.

After the show Stella sat in a comfortable chair. Her hands wrapped around the ceramic mug as she felt the heat from the java in her hands. A few bookshelves and paintings covered the walls. Stella hadn’t been to the Emporium before, but Jonathan seemed familiar with the place. The staff knew him when he walked in, and thought nothing of his shotgun arm prop, never mind his date walking in looking like a burn victim.

“That was so cool when Freddy used the Necronomicon to bring back the past Friday the 13^th victims as Deadites.” Stella agreed with her date as she sipped her steaming drink. Jonathan then asked, “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was awesome.”

“Think they’ll do another one?” Jonathan asked before sipping his own drink.

“I don’t know. It’d be cool if they did.”

“Yeah, lots of crossover films coming out.” Jonathan began to prattle on again. “Last year was Aliens vs Predator. Tonight was Freddy, the Devil and Ash, next year is Helloween.” Smirking he then asked, “Hey what are you doing next year? Would you want to go see that one with me?”

Stella grinned at Jonathan as she detected zero sarcasm in his question. “Well, I don’t know, let me check my calendar.” she motioned with her hands, mimicking opening an imaginary date book. “Helloween,” she asked, “don’t you mean Halloween?”

“No, Helloween. That will be a crossover between Hellraiser and Halloween.” Jonathan explained. “The cool thing about this is they’re bringing back Michael Meyers from the first two Halloweens.” Jonathan’s eyes then diverted upwards, he always looked like his mind was going a mile a minute. “I wonder if they’ll bring any other characters from the rest of the series.” He thought out loud. After Halloween II, series creator John Carpenter turned the franchise into an anthology, with each subsequent entry standing on its own. “The Wraith from part four would be interesting to see, so would the Werewolf from part six. I don’t know if Halloween H20 would fit though.” He then mimicked the impossibly deep voice of Sylvester Stallone, the washed up 80’s actor who starred in the 1998 Halloween entry in a desperate attempt to resurrect his career. “We’ll tear your soul apart!” Stella laughed again as Jonathan recited the famous line from the first Hellraiser in an 80’s action hero voice. Finally turning his attention back to his date, he asked “Are you a fan of the series?”

“Not so into Hellraiser.” Stella said, then, without thinking, she went on to say, “My sister and I went to see H20.”

“Oh, you have a sister.” Jonathan asked, “What is she doing?”

His face then grew puzzled by the awkward silence. It finally ended with, “My sister, um, uh, she died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jonathan sounded genuinely upset to hear this. He looked almost panicked, as if he’d unwittingly lit a fire in the woods. Almost at a whisper he asked, “What happened?”

“It was a drunk driving accident.” Stella revealed. “She got in a car with her drunk boyfriend, so…” finishing her story with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

“That’s terrible.”

In that moment he looked like he needed more comforting than she did as she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thanks.” she said. It felt good holding his hand, his skin was warm and comforting.

Pulling her hand back she heard Jonathan say, “Well don’t worry, I don’t drink and drive, in fact I don’t even drink!”

“Oh, so we’re not going to the frat party after this?” Now, for the first time the whole evening, Jonathan was at a loss for words.

“I’m just kidding,” Stella laughed like she hadn’t laughed in a long time, “I don’t drink either!”

Jonathan himself laughed a sigh of relief as he held up his cup of mocha boasting, “Alright then, well, to not drinking!”

“To not drinking!” She toasted him back.

After they both took another sip of their beverages Jonathan looked around at the surrounding bookshelves and suggested “Well, since we’re not getting black out drunk tonight, want to look at some books?”

As they browsed, Stella saw both old and new books resting on the wooden bookcases. “Ever go to North Carolina?” It seemed like such a random question, but that didn’t surprise Stella at this point. She looked to see Jonathan in the travel section looking at a title that read ‘Islands at the Edge of Time.’ Jonathan explained, “I went their with my cousins one summer. This guy wrote a book about the islands on the outer banks that way. Cool stuff.”

Stella turned back to the shelf in front of her to find an old beat-up paperback. Movie Monsters by Alan Ormsby had the image of Frankenstein and the Wolfman on its blue cover. It was a book for kids, but as she thumbed through it with her left hand, she was curious to find a few pages covering monster makeup.

“Oh, I heard about this book.” Jonathan sounded really excited and as Stella turned to find him in front of the New Release shelf. The book he held bore an image of Saw-man, and the title, emblazoned in big white letters read ‘Psycho: A Tale of, Madness, Murder, and the Disappearance of George Kohler.’

Holding the hardback up, Jonathan said, “This guy directed that other Chainsaw movie.”

Noticing the subtitle, ‘the Disappearance of George Kohler, she wondered, “Oh, what happened to him?”

“Who knows.” Jonathan said as he placed the book back on the shelf. “I guess that’s what the book’s about.”

Stella immediately snatched the book back off the shelf. Removing her prop glove and placing it in her coat pocket, her fingers quickly perused the pages. She didn’t notice Jonathan wander over to the thriller section. She didn’t see him point to a few hardcovers, and only half heard him as he asked, “Ever read Robert Bloch?” Stella was too focused on the tome in front of her to answer, but Jonathan added regardless. “He was one of my favorites. Did you know he went to high school right here in Milwaukee?”

Stella hadn’t even heard the question as she closed the book and stared at its cover price. “Tell you what,” she now heard Johnathan say, “I’ll buy that for you, and you tell me where George is.”

“Really?” She looked up to his eyes as she asked.

“Sure, save’s me the trouble of reading it myself. “ He then gave that odd chuckle she’d already got used to hearing. “Besides,” Jonathan boasted as he pulled a small business card from his wallet. “I get the membership discount.” He then made a clicking sound with his mouth and winked at her.

Stella burst into laughter at Jonathan’s mannerisms. “You’re adorable.” she said as she placed the book into his hands.

On the bus back to campus, Stella clung to the Emporium bag in her hand, anxious to read her newly owned book. Looking out the window she noticed a few familiar superhero logos, along with some she was not as familiar with.

“Ever read comics?” Stella wondered how many girls Jonathan asked that question too. She also wondered how many of them said ‘yes’. “No, not really.” She answered as she remembered her friend Megan. ‘She would have liked a store like that’, she thought to herself as she added. “I knew a girl in high school that liked them. I liked the X-men movies, those were cool.”

“Awesome, well if you ever want to check out some comics. I’ll take you there sometime.”

“Um, ok.” she said, looking back down at her bag.

 Soon their stop came. The pair got off the bus and Jonathan walked her to the Two50Two building and said, “Well, I got an all day shift tomorrow so I’m gonna drop you off here, OK?”

Stella shook her head ‘yes’ thinking to herself how she wished this night would never end. Jonathan then told her, “I had a really good time tonight.”

Earlier in the evening, when Stella stood at this same spot, she was unsure how this evening would be. She wasn’t sure if going out in this costume to meet this guy was even a good idea. Now she stood in front of her new home, having had one of the best nights she could ever remember. “I did too.” She told Jonathan. “Thanks.”

Jonathan slowly reached his arms towards her, his fingers slightly trembled as they brushed her hair. Throughout the evening Jonathan projected an aura of confidence, but there periodic moments like this where he was exposed as being just as nervous as she was. Stella brought herself closer to him as their arms gently wrapped around each other. She felt his head turn towards her. Through her makeup she could still feel his lips brush her cheek, where she heard the gentle sound of his lips part. She couldn’t wait anymore, bringing her mouth to his she heard him inhale, as if he were honestly surprised to be getting kissed himself. His lips were warm and moist, and just for a moment she felt the tip of her tongue on his. It was simple, magical, and perfect just the way it was.

The evening ended with her whisper. “Good night.”

No Gein: Leftovers. Halloween H2K Chapter Five

December 27^th: 1999 Milwaukee Wisconsin

Franklin and his family went to the big city for a religious retreat; where they’d be spending New Year’s Eve singing hymns and waiting for the apocalypse, anxiously awaiting the apocalypse in Franklin’s case. Thinking back on the events of this past year, he remembered those kids in Colorado. They were doing us all a favor, taking us one more step into the fiery abyss, burning the whole world down and taking out as many worthless souls as they could. Way in the back recesses of Franklin’s mind, he wasn’t entirely sure if the world really would end in a few days. Just in case, he had one thing he wanted to do.

Sixty-Seven Wild Rose Lane, Franklin remembered where that guy from the message boards lived. He sent an email saying he’d be coming by, and the car was parked outside so Franklin knew he was home. After knocking on the door a couple times, Franklin paced back in forth in the cold. Soon, Patrick opened the door. “Hey, what’s up?” he said.

Franklin said only one thing. “Can I see it?”

“Good to see you too, dude.” Patrick laughed. “Come on in.” Entering the house, Patrick asked “How was your Christmas? Did you get lots of cool stuff?”

“Yeah, a few things.” Franklin didn’t want to reveal that his family only exchanged a few gifts this year, as his mother earnestly believed there wouldn’t be much time to enjoy Christmas presents.

Then he saw Patrick look up towards his staircase as annoyed as a female voice spoke from above. “Who is it?”

Patrick lowered his voice to say, “Just handled my business with this girl. Wait here, I’ll go get rid of her.” Patrick watched his friend ascend back up the steps. Soon he heard faint whispers from upstairs, including that incessant whining of a teenage girl which he heard all the time in school. “I guess girls in the big city bitch too,” Franklin thought to himself while looking around the living room. Hanging from the walls there were a few framed pictures of Patrick and his mother. It was a shame, his mother seemed nice. Franklin wished he would have had cool parents, but with any luck, after a few days it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Once again Franklin heard a pair of footsteps, this time they were descending. Franklin forgot about that annoying female voice when his eyes rested on her toned legs moving downward. Each step revealed more, as he soon saw her blue skirt with gold trim, and the rest of her body followed.

Patrick followed behind, or at least Franklin assumed she did. He still wasn’t looking at her face when Patrick said whatever it was her name was. “What’s up?” he heard her voice say. Franklin simply nodded and smiled; her voice no longer annoyed him.

Patrick then said, “Well, Franklin and I are gonna chill. I’ll call you later alright?”

“Awesome.” Her now cute voice replied. Her moist wet lips kissed his cheek before she gave Franklin a coy smile and walked away. Both Patrick and Franklin were now watching her legs as they walked toward the door and her body exited the house.

Franklin almost forgot why he came here as the door closed with a thud. The next sound he heard was the voice of his friend saying, “smell that,” as he put two fingers up to Franklin’s nostrils. Franklin’s head jerked back at the wet musty smell that was completely alien to him.

Patrick laughed at his reaction. “Come on man, don’t tell me your not getting any poon tang back home. You got a girl right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure I am.” Franklin said.

Nodding his head Patrick said, “Alright, it’s cool. Let’s go upstairs.”

The two walked up the steps and into Patrick’s bedroom. It looked the same as the last time Franklin was here. His sports posters still adorned the wall and his trophy case remained intact. This hardly looked like the room of someone who’d won the Halloween H2K contest. He watched Patrick going into his closet, from which he pulled out a cardboard box. “This is it man.” Patrick said, placing the box on his bed.

Franklin was shocked. “You put it in the closet?”

“Can’t get head from the head cheerleader with this laying around my room.” he laughed while removing the lid. Franklin had no understanding of what he meant, but he approached this holy grail of horror while Patrick removed the contents.

First, Patrick pulled out a werewolf mask. “Halloween Six, Curse of the Werewolf.” Franklin said in reverence. Next, Patrick pulled out a prop ceremonial dagger, fake blood decorated its plastic blade. “Part Five, the Revenge of Samhain.”

Looking on as though witnessing an ancient archaeological dig, he heard Patrick say, “And the crown jewel.” He slowly raised the mask of the Shape, the mask of Michael Meyers, and presented it to his friend. The dead black hollow eyes of the mask stared at Franklin, who stared back in reverence.

“Can I,” Franklin nearly stammered, “can I put it on.”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” He tossed the mask to Franklin. It made a flopping sound as it landed in his hands. “I owe you one anyway.” Franklin looked down at the mask, tilting his head slightly to the left. This statement was confusing to him. When Franklin thought about all the people that owed him, Patrick was not on that list. “You helped me win that you know?” Patrick said while taking seat at his desk and booting up his computer. “I got stuck on that last code, but then I remembered what you showed me about Easter Eggs on DVDs. That’s how I found the last one.” Franklin wanted to scream, instead he pulled the mask over his face, its rubbery material covered his mouth. He could hear his own breathing as well as the sound of a lighter as Patrick lit up a cigarette. “Want one?” he asked, holding a pack in his direction.  Franklin said nothing, but the smoke from the just lit cigarette already made Franklin cough, ruining the aura of donning the mask. Stepping out of the room he heard Patrick say, “Bathroom is the last door on the left.”

Walking into the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to admire the sight of himself in the mask. The room was silent save the sound of his breathing. He could distantly hear the clacking of the keyboard. While he felt amazing with the mask on, he still felt like Franklin. Looking at the reflection of his skinny body donned in blue jeans and a red sweater, he didn’t feel like the Shape. He intended to relieve himself here, but he stopped cold in his tracks when he saw it. The used condom floating in the toilet was a reminder of what had just occurred in that bedroom. It wasn’t like he didn’t know; the scent of Patrick’s two fingers clued him in, but there floating before him was a mocking reminder of what he never had, what he never would have. Slowly turning away, he again caught his reflection in the mirror. Those dead black eyes stared back at him; his breathing echoed powerfully through the rubber surrounding his face. Now it had finally come, that secret signal had been sent to his brain, and the body standing before him was no longer Franklin, it was merely a shape.

Patrick laughed as the form of his friend stood in the doorway. “You make a good Michael Meyers.” he said sarcastically. The brain underneath that rubber mask screamed, “It’s not Michael Meyers it’s the Shape!” However, no sound emerged from the body’s mouth as it took a slow step forward. Looking back at the computer screen, it appeared Patrick was in some local chat room. “Hey, my friend Shaun is having a party tonight. Let’s check it out. They’re gonna have some wicked egg nogg.”

The body behind Patrick remained silent as the computer shut off. Patrick then stood up and faced his friend saying, “Come on, you’re not going to the party looking like that. We’ll get you some girls and you’ll forget all about this shit.”

The body before him remained motionless, making no sound except his breathing.

“Oh, so you’re Michael Meyers now. Come on let me get it back.” Patrick reached up for the mask but the body before him pushed his hands away. “What the fuck man!” Patrick pushed shoved the person before him, then got pushed back while reaching for this mask with his own hands. Patrick’s hands gripped the rubber mask; but a second pair of hands hung onto it like a petulant child. “You’re gonna rip the mask you asshole!” Patrick swung a body shot which made the shape before him recoil and release his hands. Patrick then ripped the mask off the child’s face. Franklin took a deep breath as beads of sweat fell from his cheeks to the floor.

Patrick then tossed the mask on his bed before saying, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

With all his strength and rage Franklin punched Patrick in the groin, bringing him to his knees. Still feeling the pain in his gut, Franklin knew the truth, he was no Shape. He could never take this guy in a fight. He knew there was only one chance as he reached for the thick power cord below Patrick’s desk. While Patrick’s hands still covered his groin, Franklin wrapped the cord around the teenager’s exposed neck. Patrick desperately tried to pull off, he was the stronger of the two, but Franklin wrapped the cord tightly around the boy’s throat. The victim desperately thrashed around the floor, but Franklin couldn’t let him get away. He couldn’t stand knowing someone else had gotten what was rightfully his. Not only did this boy win the prize, but he had friends, girls…sex.

His victim now had his stomach on the floor. Franklin thrust his hips forward pulling upward on the cord with all his strength. Patrick made one final thrash of his arms before the life left his body.

Rising back to his feet, Patrick looked at the Meyers mask as well as the other prizes that were now his by right of conquest. Grabbing a backpack from the closet, Franklin loaded the items into the bag, and quickly exited the house.

Running back to the Church where his family was staying, the night air chilled his lungs. If the world really was going to end in a few days, then at least he could spend his last days with the only things he loved.

Epilogue: August 25^th: 2003

Driving in his car, Franklin long forgot about how the world was supposed to end a few years back. He still felt like most of this planet wasn’t worth a damn, but that was only when he took time to think about it. A few years back, he was actually planning to follow in the footsteps of those kids in Colorado, but someone called him about a job. Before he graduated, someone recommended him to the local nursing home. Bernice and her husband lived there now, and he always got along with them. Now that he was out of school, he was working at their full time, and he kind of liked it. He was still living at home, but his dad stopped drinking, and his mom wasn’t on his case as much now that he was bringing in some income.

Also, in an amazing turn of events, things were actually a little exciting around town. A few weeks ago some remains turned up just a few miles away from where he lived. Looked like someone was trying to wipe out this boring place long before he’d thought of it. “Too bad he didn’t get them all,” he thought to himself. Driving back to work from his lunch break, the radio had the latest news. The local sheriff called a press conference, and a huge bombshell was dropped. The property on which the bodies were found was once the residence of a solitary figure by the name of Edward Gein. Apparently, around 50 years ago, Ed had murdered a local bartender, but that was not the least of his crimes. According to the sheriff, one night, almost half a century ago, the local authorities had discovered, and covered up, the fact that Ed Gein had robbed almost ten graves in the area, before dying and before his property burned to the ground.

Hearing this amazing news, Franklin felt a tingling sensation in his hands while they gripped the steering wheel. He had to pull over to the side of the road as he began hyperventilating. Hearing this news, he could never have imagined, never in his wildest dreams, that something this awesomely gruesome could occur in his own backyard. He knew right then and there this was about to become his new obsession.

Something else occurred to him. Edward Gein, he’d heard that name before, but where? Who would have possibly known him that would ever bring his name up. Looking down at his name badge for the nursing home, he thought perhaps Bernice would know something about this.

Finally catching his breath, he looked at the tree close to him on the side of the road. The branches looked oddly shaped, bending in a way he didn’t think branches could bend. A buzzard sat perched on a thick branch and glared at him with dead black eyes. There below the leaves, a man stood. Frankling hadn’t noticed him before, but he wore a red hunters cap, had a weird lopsided grin, and a saggy baggy eye.

The End

Stay tuned for Franklin’s awful exploits in the final entry of the No Gein saga,

No Gein III: The Final Cut!

No Gein: Leftovers. Halloween: H2K Part 3

Milwaukee Wisconsin, August 15^th, 1999

“In fulfillment of Bible prophecy, the world today is beginning to speak the same language. We are satellite- and Internet-connected. We are fast moving toward a cashless economy, a one-world government, a one-world court and a one-world church. We are building a universal city with a one-world church whose tower reaches into heaven.”

“Just like the Tower of Babel!” Franklin’s mother shouted in enthusiasm while other members of the congregation clapped and cheered in agreement. Jerry Falwell’s sermon continued.

“But the Trinity has come down and looked us over,” the reverend said, “and it seems that God doesn’t like what he sees. He may be preparing to confound our language, to jam our communications, scatter our efforts and judge us for our sin and rebellion against his lordship. We are hearing from many sources that January 1, 2000, will be a fateful day in the history of the world.”

Franklin stood up and cheered. Caught up in the moment, he briefly forgot about his mind off his nearly passed out drunk father sitting next to him. Since he lost his job last year he’d taken to the bottle while his mom took to religion. Deciding they needed to escape the sin and debauchery that she claimed gripped their tiny town of Plainfield, Franklin’s mother took the family to the big city of Milwaukee for a religious retreat. Franklin was familiar with Falwell. He remembered a few years ago the reverend said something about one of the Teletubbies being gay. Franklin wasn’t sure about that, but he hoped Falwell was right about January first. Back home, the church his mom drug him to preached hard on the Y2K scare that was in the news and how it was a sign of God’s judgement. At first Franklin was annoyed at having to get up early on Sunday mornings, but a wrathful god massacring humanity sounded pretty awesome. In the last few months he’d been obsessed with those Columbine kids who massacred their school. Reading some of their journals that were posted online, and he started to think both them and God had the right idea. Fuck the world and everyone in it, blow this place to smithereens and start again. Maybe almighty God will get creation right next time.

Like all the speakers before him, Falwell started hawking his book and other merchandise to the crowd before him. Franklin looked at his watch impatiently as the program was running over. After hearing one last plug of merch he looked to the door behind him. One of the local ministers made an announcement that after a short break the adults would have special small group sessions and there would be some programming for the youth.

“Oh wonderful, you can make some new friends.” His mom said.  

“Mom I’m going to meet my friend, you know that.”

“Oh, dear just go check it out. It will be fun.” She said before she and Franklin’s dad went to the adult study.

Franklin felt agitated as he got off the bus. According to the horror message board he frequented, Patrick was going to LARP with some people in nearby Cooper Park. Franklin planned to meet him there, but he was late. He never tried Live Action Role Playing Before. No one in his little shit town would have the imagination to try something that cool. He looked around the park and didn’t see anything yet. Then he spotted a girl dressed in all black standing next to a guy that was big like a football player. The girl’s bright red lipstick was noticeable from afar, when he approached, she smiled at him, her exposed jaw revealed a set of plastic vampire teeth.

“Hey Franklin.” He turned around at the sound of a male voice to see a teenager, dressed kind of normal, t shirt, jeans, Air Jordon’s, but he was carrying a plastic crossbow so Franklin presumed he was a LARPer. “Patrick, good to meet you. Sorry you missed the LARP. We ended up starting early.” Nodding his head to the other guy he said, “Tim here has to go in for early football practice.”

“Hey I’m Tim, nice to meet you.” the other teenager said waving his large hand at him. Franklin said nothing as Tim said “Sorry, I gotta head out.”

“Later.” Patrick said as Tim walked away with his arm around the vampire girl.

“He plays football?” Patrick said in disgust.

“Yeah, he’s cool. He also plays in my Shadowrun campaign.” Patrick said, referring to the cyberpunk themed table top role playing game. Patrick couldn’t conceive of a jock being a gamer. He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder this as Patrick asked, “So, you want to hang at my place?”

Later, walking into Patrick’s house, Franklin asked, “Aren’t your parents home?”

“Well, I just live with my dad and he’s at work.”

“Sweet.” Franklin said as he followed Patrick up the steps. He wished he didn’t have to live with his mom. Walking into Patrick’s room, Franklin expected a shrine to horror movies. What he saw were posters of sports figures he didn’t recognize. He looked confused as he stared a few athletic trophies set up in a display case.

“Those are for track.” Patrick explained before asking. “What sports do you do?”

That question was preposterous. “Uh, I’m, I’m not into sports really.”

“All about the scary movies huh?” Patrick said, picking up the Night Skies DVD. “Cool, well, you want to check this out then.” Patrick had Night Skies Four, Kayeri, the direct to DVD sequel that came out last year.

Franklin nodded and Patrick loaded the DVD player. Picking its remote control, he said “On the forums you said something about Easter Eggs?”

“Yeah, if you fiddle around on the menu screen.” Franklin took the remote control from Patrick’s hand and pointed to the TV screen.” “Look here,” he explained, “it doesn’t look like the cursor can go here, but watch.” Pushing the left arrow button on the remote, an area of the screen was highlighted that wasn’t highlighted before, indicating this was an item to be selected.

“Oh cool, how did you do that?

“Like this.” he said, holding up the remote. Pushing the directional buttons, Franklin moved the menu icon back and forth. Them after clicking the icon on the hidden spot, a deleted scene was loaded.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Patrick said as the gigantic star filled sky of the southwestern united states appeared on the screen. The two teenagers watched as the sound of a Native American wind instrument drummed through the speakers of Patrick’s small TV. On the screen, the camera panned down to the image of a campfire. A mother and daughter sat among their fellow tribesmen.  Looking up at the sky, the mother said  “Our people have stories about a tribe that flew on an eagle all way up into the heavens.” The child’s eyes widened with wonder as her mother went on. “They flew so far away they had to live among the stars.”

“Really, they’re speaking English?” Patrick laughed.

“Listen to this part.” Franklin said urgently. To him, this wasn’t hanging out and socializing, this was getting his friend up to speed.

They both resumed watching as the woman explained that that one day this special tribe will come back to their lands. Just then, a flurry of shooting stars streaked across the sky. “Is that them?” The young girl excitedly pointed her tiny finger up to the heavens.

“Maybe,” the mother said, “maybe they’re coming to take you away!” The young girl laughed as her mother proceeded to tickle her. “OK, that’s enough stories. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

Later, while the young girl lay down beneath the open sky, she could not bring her self to close her eyes. Her gaze remained fixed on the sights above her. One of the shooting stars she’d seen seemed to have been moving slower, almost hovering over her people. In fact, it looked like the light was drawing closer. It’s bright white glow grew larger and larger. The rest of her people slept as she watched in wonderment this ball of light landing on the Earth as though it were a giant eagle. No sound was made as it appeared to touch the soil. Her eyes unable to move from it, the young girl said but two words. She drug out the syllables as she spoke, it was a phrase the filmmakers knew the audience would be familiar with.

“They’re here.”

“Cool, I remember I was a little kid when Heather O’ Rourke died.” Patrick said, referring to the child actor who starred in the original Night Skies film, and tragically passed in the late 80’s.  “That really sucked.”

“Yeah, she could have been in the TV show.” Patrick referred to the Night Skies spinoff TV series that aired on the sci-fi channel.

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick said, turning to his computer. The sound of the 56K modem indicated that he was connecting to the internet. “Anyway, you want to watch the movie a bit.” Franklin agreed and selected the ‘play feature’ option on the menu. They continued to make small talk while the movie played and Patrick typed on the keyboard. The familiar bleeping sound of AOL messenger occasionally accompanied the sounds from the movie. Soon Patrick asked, “You got a girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah there’s this girl back home. Lindsey.” Her name hung from his lips, like honey on a spoon that was just out of reach.

“Cool.” Patrick continued typing on his keyboard. After a few minutes he said “Hey, what time do you have to get back?”

Looking at his watch, Franklin said “Yeah, I should probably get back soon.”

“That’s cool. I’m gonna go meet this cheerleader chic in a bit, but I can give you a ride if you need it?”

“Sure.”

Later, after saying goodbye to Patrick, Franklin entered the church where he saw his mom kneeling in prayer with the minister. His father looked at him, his eyes betraying no emotion but his mother immediately looked back after the sound of the door opening. “Oh my heavens where were you?” She rushed up to her feet and came toward him. “We were just about to call the police.”

“Told you he was fine.” His father said. Smiling and nodding at his son he speculated, “Probably out with some girl.”

“No,” Franklin responded, frustrated. “I told you I was out with Patrick.”

“Who’s Patrick?” His mom asked.

“I told you who Patrick is.” Franklin couldn’t believe his mother’s ignorance. “That guy I met online.”

“Wait,” The minister interrupted, “You met a man online and you went to his house?”

“He’s my age.” Franklin said annoyed. “I came on this trip so I could meet him.

“And what were you doing with him?” His mother said, still concerned.

“God mom, we just watched a DVD.”

“Son,” the minister interupted again, “was this a pornographic DVD?

“No you asshole, it was Night Skies IV!”

“Franklin!” his mother scolded. Meanwhile, his father looked at his watched, appearing just as annoyed as Franklin was.

“It’s OK.” The minister said to Franklin’s mother. “Franklin, you have to be careful about meeting people on the internet.”

“I only came on this trip so I could meet him, and I hardly got to hang out with him because your crap went on all day!” Then, turning to his parents, he said. “Now come on let’s go home.” He stormed out of the church and walked towards his parents’ car. He couldn’t believe in the stupidity of these people. Sitting in the car, fuming, he thought to himself, there was one thing he hoped these people were right about. He hoped the world really did end this year. If he ever would have prayed, he would have prayed for this planet to be obliterated. Watching his mother sobbing while coming out of the church, his father meekly following behind, he cursed his lot at having to be raised by these idiots. As they opened the doors and plopped themselves down in the car seats, he thought to himself, if they’re still alive in the new millennium, he might have to do the finish them off himself.

No Gein: Leftovers. Halloween: H2K Part 2

April 20^th, 1999 Tri-Country High School, Plainfield Wisconsin

Franklin was used to the scowls of his fellow students as he walked in the computer lab. To him this single room was the only place in this building that was worth a damn. Certainly better than the gymnasium. Of course some kids were wasting it looking up basketball scores or celebrity gossip. One was reading something about Hitler. That bitch Lynda was sitting next to one of the only open computers. He could feel her skin crawl as he sat down next to her. He wondered what the fuck her problem was anyway. She was sitting there looking up shit about weed. In his mind the TV hanging overhead would come loose and land on her fucking head. Maybe then she’d finally chill the fuck out.  

He forgot about her as soon as the Macintosh booted up. He immediately went to his favorite forum. He dropped a few random posts. Some douche bags had a whole thread on humorous moments in the X-Files series. Stupid assholes, don’t they know X-Files isn’t supposed to be funny? On the Halloween forums he also exchanged a few posts with ShapeDude. He seemed like a cool guy, a fellow Halloween fan who lived in Milwaukee. He wished cool people like him went to this school instead of all these worthless sacks of shit.

One post got his attention, “New questions are up.” This was on the forum for the H2K contest. He immediately typed h2k.com into the url bar, bringing up the promotional website for the upcoming Direct to DVD release, Halloween: H2K. His mouse immediately clicked on the quiz section and the first question loaded.

What name was Michael Meyers listed as in the credits of Halloween?  “Any idiot knows that.” Franklin thought to himself as he clicked “The Shape.”

Then the next question loaded. The word Samhain was on the screen followed by several phonetic spellings of it. The question was “How do you pronounce Samhain?” In Halloween 2, Donald Pleasance, who plays Dr. Gavin, mispronounces it as Sam-HAYNE. Halloween 5: The Revenge of Samhain, corrected this mistake, which is how Franklin knew the correct answer as he clicked on saa.wn

Franklin shook his fist in triumph as the website scored his points for another correct answer. If he kept answering correctly, he would remain on the leader board, which was one factor in the H2K contest. The grand prize of which was a collection of props from the various Halloween movies, including one of the original Michael Meyers masks from the first Halloween.

“What are you looking at freak?” Franklin turned around to see Ken, one of his classmates. His eyes stared at him judgmentally through his thick rimmed glasses.

“Says the guy looking at dead bodies.” Franklin retorted, commentating on the JPEG image of a black man laying on a steel slab displayed on the light blue Macintosh monitor.

“Dude, do you even know who this is?” Ken sounded shocked at Franklin’s ignorance but, Franklin really didn’t know who it was. He did know no one was supposed to be looking at rotten.com, a website notorious for its graphic pictures of corpses which Ken loaded on his screen.

Deciding to be a smart ass, Franklin replied, “Who is it, your boyfriend?”

“Hey, don’t you insult Tupac!”

“X-Pac,” Franklin sarcastically said, “Isn’t that the wrestler?”

“Man shut the fuck up!” Again pointing to his screen Ken nearly shouted “This guy was one of the greatest entertainers of the 20^th century, not some fake ass wrestler.”

Franklin wouldn’t reveal this, but once Ken said “Tupac” he did realize who Ken was talking about. Of course Franklin’s frame of reference for Tupac Shakur was his appearance in Halloween: Resurrection of the Vampire. In fact, the only Tupac song he knew was the one that appeared on Resurrection’s soundtrack. This didn’t stop Franklin from answering “Your mom’s tits are fake.”

“Oh, you mother fucker.” Ken sprung out of his seat to approach Franklin. The ruckus finally got the teacher’s attention. “Hey, knock it off guys.” he said in a stern voice. Some students snickered at how the teacher finally payed attention to his students, instead of looking up news about the new Star Wars movie.

Ken stopped in his tracks and Franklin turned his gaze to the doorway as Lindsey walked in. She looked upset. Franklin gasped audibly as she rapidly drew closer. Stopping in front of his chair, her body stretched upwards, lifting the material on her shirt exposing her navel. Her slender fingers pushed the button, and after the electronic buzzing sound the TV turned on. Franklin now watched her fingers frantically flip through the channels before stopping on CNN. The 24 hour news channel broadcast an aerial shot of what looked like a high school. Hundreds of kids were running out, their hands all raised above their heads as police cars surrounded the building. Franklin smirked to himself while other kids gasped at the image of handmade sign reading “I bleeding to death,” followed by footage of police officers helping a bloody teenager come out of a shattered window. The headline below read “Multiple dead at Columbine High School.”

No Gein: Leftovers, Halloween H2K Part One

12/31/1998 Plainfield, Wisconsin.

“Man, I can’t believe they ended the streak!” Tommy complained as he carried a case of Coke into the kitchen.

“Wait,” Ben said as he followed behind with several bags of chips. “Goldberg got beat?” Ben was shocked at what he’d just heard. Goldberg, the World Championship Wrestling superstar, had gone 173-0 into his title defense at Starrcarde, a Pay Per View event that occurred just four days prior. “That’s bullshit.” Ben protested, putting the chips on the kitchen table. Ben then noticed Bernice, Tommy’s great grandmother and host of their New Year’s Eve party standing right there. “Oh, sorry Mrs. Worden.” he said.  

“Oh, that’s OK dear.” Bernice laughed, waving her hand dismissively.

Her husband Ronnie sat next to her and laughed as well, adding “Yeah, you kids hear worse than that on South Park.”  

“You know that wrestling’s all just a show, right?” Lindsey rhetorically asked while bringing in a bag of popcorn.

“I know, but it’s still bullshit.” Ben answered his girlfriend before asking Lindsey’s brother Tommy, “Anyway, how’d they do it?”

Tommy then gave a recap of the predetermined bout. “Scott Hall came down to ringside and zapped Goldberg with a taser. Then Nash power bombed him and got the pin.”

 “That totally sucks.” Ben responded.

“Well, I don’t mind seeing more of Kevin Nash.” Bernice’s round face lit up as she chimed in. “They don’t call him big sexy for nothing!”

Tommy turned to his great grandfather via marriage and joked “You hear that, Ronald? You might have some competition.”

Ronald responded by holding up his cane and boasting “I’ll take him on in a steel cage!” Adding, “Wouldn’t be the first time I had to fight for her.”

“Maybe they’ll book a Bernice Worden on a pole match.” Ben joked, referring to one of the gimmick matches used on wrestling programming.

“Oh, trust me, there’s no competition for my Ronnie.” Bernice playfully put his arm around her husband of forty years before saying, “As a matter of fact, I’ve started calling him big sexy!”

“Nanna!” Lindsey blushed in embarrassment.

“You laugh but you’ll get old someday too.” Ronnie retorted, squeezing his wife’s hand. They’d been blessed with a long happy marriage. Ronnie, in fact, was Bernice’s second husband, but Bernice had been the longtime owner of the local Worden’s hardware store. It never bothered Ronnie that most people in the town still called her Mrs. Worden.

Soon Tommy, Lindsey and Ben went into the living room where they joined some of their other high school classmates watching Dick Clark on the big screen TV. Bernice and Ronald followed behind when they heard a knock at the door. “Come in.” Bernice said. Ben felt a little uncomfortable seeing the scowls some of his classmates gave his childhood friend Franklin walking through the door.

Bernice, however, was happy to see him. “Oh Franklin. How are you?” she happily greeted. Then, noticing the stack of Tupperware containers he was carrying she asked, “What do you have there?”

“Mother baked some cookies.” Franklin answered.

“Oh, that’s great well you can put them in the kitchen.” Bernice said.

Ben then stood up, saying “Here I’ll give you a hand with those.” before taking one of the containers off his friend.

Following Franklin into the kitchen Ben asked, “We were just talking about Starrcade, did you see it?”

“Yeah, you know Nash is the booker now, right?” Ben was confused at this ‘booker’ term his friend used, not knowing it referred to the person in a wrestling company who determines the outcomes of the matches. “So, of course he booked himself to win the title.” Franklin prattled on. “Did you see Nash challenged Goldberg for a rematch for next Monday. I bet it ends with a run in from Hall. Same old predictable shit!” he concluded while carelessly tossed the Tupperware container he was carrying on the kitchen table.

Ben was used to Franklin’s conversations going on like a runaway train. In an attempt to derail Franklin’s complaints about the modern state of professional wrestling he said, “OK, well thanks for coming man. We’re gonna have a good time.”

“Yeah, especially because we got this.” Franklin pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels from his winter coat.

“What are you doing with that?” For the second time tonight, Ben was in shock.

“Stole it from my dad’s cabinet.”

“You can’t be doing that!” Ben nearly shouted. 

“Chill out, he’ll be so blank tonight he won’t even notice it’s gone.”

Looking out in the living room in a panic, Ben insisted “Look it’s disrespectful to Bernice. Put that away!” Ben was no angel, he and Lindsey occasionally snuck a few beers out in the fields, but all their parents trusted Bernice and Ronnie to host a New Year’s Eve party without any shenanigans.

“OK, sorry man.” Franklin said. Ben knew Franklin got the message, as he always got on well with Mrs. Worden.

Tucking the bottle back in his winter coat Franklin asked, “So, you think they’ll want to watch the trailer?”

Once again Ben was confused. “What trailer?”

“You know, on the Sci-Fi channel.”

“The Sci-Fi Channel?” Ben was always patient with Franklin, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. He knew no one else in this house would want to watch the Sci-Fi Channel on New Year’s Eve.

“Yeah, you know,” Franklin’s tone suggested he fully expected his only friend to fully comprehend what he meant. “At midnight the Sci-Fi channel is going to show the H2K trailer.”

“H2K?” Once again, Ben had no idea what his friend was talking about.

“Yeah, the new Halloween movie that will be out next year.”

“Dude, it’s New Year’s Eve! We’re here to watch the ball drop. Besides, the Spice Girls are gonna be on. Wouldn’t you rather see them?” The disappointed look on Franklin’s face suggested he had no interest in the quintet of sexy British singers that were all the rage this past year. He should have expected as much out of his nerdy friend. “Tell you what,” Ben conceded, “I’m sure it will turn up online. You can come over my house later next week and I’ll download it OK?”

Franklin nodded, seemingly agreeing to his friend’s suggestion. Then they both heard the sound of female laughter. From the kitchen Ben could see Lindsey sitting on the living room couch. She was wearing that red and green holiday themed sweater which was his present to her this past week. Her brown hair shined as the still hanging Christmas lights blinked above her like stars floating above a calm sea.

“So,” the voice of his friend brought Ben out of his brief trance. “You’re here with Lindsey?”

In the TV room Ronnie asked, “You playing basketball this year?”  

“Yeah, we’re gonna have a good season.” Lindsey answered confidently, adding “I hope we win districts this year.” She then noticed her friend and teammate Lynda staring blankly off to the side. “What do you think Lynda?” she asked.

“Yeah, I hope so.” Lynda’s voice held no enthusiasm, but she did add, “Amhurst has a good team though.” referring to another school district not terribly far from their tiny little town.

“What’s wrong Lynda, not feeling the holiday spirit?” Lindsey asked.

Staring into the kitchen, Lynda blurted out, “Can I just ask, who invited him?”

Lindsey didn’t like hearing one of the girls complain about Franklin’s presence, but at the same time, she understood. “I think Ben did.” she replied.

“Why?” Lynda asked with a sternness in her voice. “Doesn’t it bother you that he’s friends with that weirdo?”

“Oh, you kids.” Bernice interjected. “Franklin is such a nice boy.”

“You just think he’s nice because he asks you about scary stories all the time. His dad’s a total drunk, you know my mom said he….” Her jaw then froze as she saw Franklin had entered the room with Ben following behind.

Franklin ignored the comment Lynda was about to make, and mostly kept to himself as the night went on. The youths enjoyed the cookies and snacks provided as they watched Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, and in time Franklin’s presence went almost unnoticed, as if he were an invisible member of the party. As it drew close to midnight, the moment Ben previously spoke about arrived. All the boys grinned as the Spice Girls performed on the TV. While watching them dance Ben felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck. He could feel the wool from the sweater he’d purchased brush against his skin as Lindsey’s red lips whispered in his ear “So, which Spice Girl would I be.”

“Hmm, that’s a tough choice.” Ben answered as he reached up and playfully squeezed her hands.

A whisper again slipped into his ear as he felt her hot breath say, “Well you can figure it out upstairs.” His eyes then watched her body coyly walk away and ascend up the steps. Ben waited a few minutes before standing up himself. He made like he was going to walk into the kitchen but then quickly turned toward the steps. Quickly glancing back, everyone’s eyes were still on the TV watching the Spice Girl’s performance, except Ronnie. Ben froze as Ronnie looked directly at him, but then Ben noticed the mischievous grin on the old man’s face. Ronnie nodded at him, indicating he knew exactly what the score was before turning his gaze back to the sexy women dancing on the screen.

As Ben climbed to the top of the steps, he saw Lindsey’s slim figure standing in the dark, her arms stretched out waiting for him. She gave a quick kiss on the lips before leading him by hand down the dark corridor. Stopping at a door, she turned around to whisper, “When I was a kid I would stay in this room.” She then audibly gasped, something had startled her. Ben then noticed a faint light coming out the crack of the door, accompanied by inaudible sounds.

“Looks like someone beat you to it.” Ben said, figuring some other couple snuck in here with the same idea. He saw the giddy look on Lindsey’s face as she slowly pushed the door open, expecting to catch some young lovers in the act. Her body then jumped back, in the faint electronic glow Ben could see Lindsey cover her mouth. Before Ben could ask what was wrong, she stormed in her old room and said one word.

“Franklin!” There he was, sitting on the floor by himself, bottle of Jack to his side, and the TV providing the only light in the room. Ben recognized the planet like symbol on the bottom right corner of the TV screen as well as the end credits of show Franklin apparently was just watching. Night Skies, a TV spin-off of that 80’s Spielberg movie about alien abductions, was one of the few things Ben and Franklin shared these days. Franklin came over every week to watch it with him, even though he often complained about it, just like he complained about wrestling; but, like wrestling, he never missed an episode. Sometimes Ben wondered if Franklin just came over to get away from his parents.

“Shh” Franklin was visibly annoyed as he looked back at Lindsey saying, “The trailer’s about to come on.”

Franklin turned back to the TV excited as he watched a clock on the screen counting down. Once it hit zero, he was again visibly annoyed by the cheering downstairs. The new year of 1999 meant nothing to him. The most important thing in his universe at this moment was the trailer for the new Halloween movie.

Leaning closer to the TV screen to turn the volume up, the speakers on the TV emitted sound of keystrokes as digital letters appeared on the screen. Several keystrokes spelled out the words Halloween, apocalypse, then the sound of a 56k modem connecting filled the television speakers as something else was typed on the screen, the number 2000.  

The trailer then cut to some characters who looked like technicians working in a computer lab. One of the female technicians who wore a strange necklace said some lines about the druid calendar. Franklin knew this exposition was just bullshit for the movie, but he listened as the on-screen character explained how the druids believed, according to this movie, that the end of time would not come on January first, as some were predicting with the recent Y2K scare, but on October 31rst. The older male technician said one word in his thick British accent. “Halloween.”

That familiar theme music from the John Carpenter franchise hit as he heard a familiar voice rap over it. Franklin was alien to the world of Hip Hop, but he recognized the voice from Halloween Resurrection of the Vampire. Franklin was pretty sure it was the same rapper from that early 90’s soundtrack that he was hearing now. The lyrics went hard as various characters appeared to come to mysterious deaths. Franklin’s eyes scanned the screen for Easter eggs. It was just a flash of a moment, but on the screen, it was shown someone was looking at a website about the sea monster from Halloween H20. Franklin’s mother took him to see that movie, what was just over a year ago now seemed like another life, before his dad lost his job and found the bottle. Franklin’s momentary lapse in concentration ended as the title Halloween H2K was typed out on the screen. After a quick flash of light another set of text appeared, www.h2k.com

“That was awe…” Franklin excitedly turned around but stopped mid-sentence to see Ben and Lindsey’s embrace. Outside, through the window, fireworks spread across the empty sky. Inside, the couple’s lips were tightly locked, Franklin watched Ben’s hand move up his girlfriend’s torso, inching oh so close to her breast, but it stopped as both their eyes opened to see their nerdy friend kneeling before them, bottle of Jack in hand.

Lindsey gasped aloud as Ben looked down with pity to say. “Oh, sorry bud.” Franklin remained silent. He simply turned away to switch the TV off as he heard Ben say one more thing. “Happy New Year.”

No Gein: Leftovers. Clarice: The First Taste Part One

This story is a spin-off from No Gein II Part 12, in which Milton and his cannibalistic family sit around the campfire swapping stories after having just killed some random motorists. The opening line here is the last line from that chapter.

A secluded area off the interstate somewhere in the Mid-western United States. September 2003

“I bit in, and I stayed alive.” 

“You wanna hear about my first taste Uncle Milton?” Clarice asked, smacking her lips on her flesh sandwich.

“Let me guess.” Milton said after taking a bite of his own food. Looking up at the night as the fire crackled and the stars burned in the heavens. “It was that boy, what was his name,” his eyes searched the lights in the sky above until it came to him, “Darryl.”

“Oh my god, how did you know?” Clarice blushed with excitement, but when she looked at her Uncle Milton, just for a brief moment after that name escaped his lips, he looked a little sad. Clarice wondered why. Perhaps it was because he was coming to know she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Tonight was the first night he’d seen her in action, having helped hunt the three hapless travelers that were tonight’s dinner.

Light from the flames washed over the family while Milton answered, “I remember reading about it in the newspaper. I figured that was you.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Clarice smiled as she looked down and took another bite of her sandwich, glowing from the approval she’d received from her uncle. Looking back up, she noticed Milton was still looking at her. She squinted her eyes and wondered what he wanted.

“Well, let’s hear the story then!” Milton requested.

August 1993

“I’m gonna kill you, you fucking bitch!” The young teenager wasn’t playing around, and the crowd surrounding her knew it as she rubbed the other girls face in the dirt before slapping her. Other kids and even a few adults gathered around watching and cheering. Clarice couldn’t breathe as Diane’s hand wrapped furiously around her neck. As one of Diane’s hands went from Clarice’s neck to her smother her mouth, Clarice did the only thing she could think of.

“Ahh!” Diane jerked her hand back, pulling her flesh away from the grip of Clarice’s teeth. “Bitch just fucking bit me!” she cried.  Clarice then grabbed a stone and struck Diane in the side of the head, causing her to fall to the ground. The small audience cheered as Clarice rose to her feet. Diane was in shock as she wiped the blood from her forehead. Clarice wanted to pounce this girl and pound her face into the ground, but she was caught up in the moment. This was the first time in her life people were cheering for her. In reality, they probably didn’t give a damn about her, but in this moment, she was their champion. Shaking the the dust off she could see the faces screaming for blood, but then, there was another face, a face a face that wasn’t cheering, a face she hadn’t seen in a long time.

She didn’t see the fist flying her way, but she felt it land in her stomach before it sent her stumbling back. The crowd roared again as Diane was back on her feet. “Now you’re really fucking dead.” she grunted.

“Hey you kids, get the hell out of here or I’m gonna call the cops!” The crowd booed the owner of the local burger joint who stormed into the parking lot. ‘You heard me, beat it!” He shouted as the audience dispersed. Diane took off running without saying a word while Clarice gripped her side where she got hit. Watching all the people leave, she didn’t see that face anymore. It must have been just the heat of the moment, at least that’s what she told herself while she tried to catch her breath. Once she calmed down, she slowly walked away; the excitement of the moment had passed.

“Oh my god, what happened honey?” Clarice’s grandmother Emily asked while wiping her granddaughter’s face with a wet towel.

With a smile that took away all her pain, Clarice answered. “A boy asked me out.”

“Wait, you mean a boy did this to you? Who is it?” Her Grandfather Whitman interrupted. Clarice had been raised by her grandparents as long as she could remember. Filling the role of the protective father, he picked up his sledgehammer and said in complete seriousness. “I’ll kill him.”

“No, no it wasn’t a boy.” Clarice rushed to explain. She knew full well it wouldn’t have been out of the question for her grandfather to actually bash someone’s skull over this. “I think it was his old girlfriend.”

“So, she was jealous huh?” her grandmother Emily said. “Well,” Emily looked over Clarice’s slim figure, donned in cut off jean shorts and a tank top. “you are turning into a real looker.”

“Guess that runs in the family huh?” Her Grandfather said, playfully patting his wife’s backside while asking, “So, who’s this boy?”

“His name is Darryl.” Clarice answered dreamily. “He goes to school with me. He asked me to the movies this weekend.”

Now it was Clarice who was worried. She didn’t know why her grandparents just gave each other that look. Was there some reason they weren’t going to let her go? Did they think she was too young to date? Then, as soon as her Grandmother spoke, Clarice realized she’d forgotten all about it.

“Honey, we’re going to see Uncle Milton this weekend.”

As exciting as the prospect of a first date was, she actually wasn’t disappointed at the news. It had been a while since she’s seen the man that was her Grandfather’s other son. “Uncle Milton!” Clarice exclaimed. “Oh my god, I forgot all about it!”

Her Grandfather said, “I was going to remind you to pack. Are you sure you’re not disappointed? We’ll just be gone for a week.”

“No, not at all.” Clarice assured them. “I’ll call Darryl and tell him.”

“Godless feeling in me

night after night

Godless feeling in me

Born of their lives”

Danzig III: How the God’s Kill spun in Clarice’s CD player while she was in her bedroom packing. Figuring she’d need some reading material for the road trip, she perused her overflowing bookshelf. Some Halloween novels caught her eye. Author Nicolas Grabowsky wrote a series of novels continuing the Michael Meyers story after Halloween II; unlike the film series which turned into an anthology. She realized she hadn’t read Halloween: Deadly Treats, which was a crossover novel featuring Chucky from Child’s Play, characters from the Demonic Toys films, and Brittany Lloyd, the psychotic child killer introduced in a previous Halloween novel. She grabbed this book off the shelf, figuring she would read it on the way back. She wanted to give a book to Uncle Milton, as the prison allowed visitors to bring one gift. However, Uncle Milton was more refined in his horror tastes and probably wouldn’t care for crossover stories. Then she saw it, it was Robert Bloch’s new novel. She knew her Uncle was always a fan of that author’s work, and it would also answer the question of what to read on the way out.

Finally, there was the question of what to wear for the big day. Looking through her closet of her wardrobe of mostly black outfits, she found just what she was looking for. She pulled out the Charles Manson which read, “Charlie Don’t Surf” in the back.

Manson’s eyes looked back from the reflection of the mirror as Clarice held the shirt up over her body. Through that mirror she could see her grandmother standing in the doorway. “Your father would have been so proud if he could see you now.” Emily said.

Looking at the reflection of her own face, Clarice brushed her own cheek with her free hand as she asked “Do I look like him, or do I look more like…” her grandparents talked a lot about her father, who died when Clarice was just a baby, but her mother was never really discussed.

“I can see bits of your father in you.” Emily answered. “Not so much in how you look, but how you are.” Playfully jabbing her on the arm, she said, “You’re definitely one of our family. From the time you were little you were spunky,” Emily’s eyes teared up as she remembered her long departed flesh and blood, “just like Frost was.”

Clarice teared up at the mention of her father. She hadn’t heard his name spoken in a long time. Giving her grandmother a hug, a strange question came to mind. 

“Grandma,” Clarice said, “do you remember Ed?”

“Ed who?” Emily asked, confused.

“When I was little.” Clarice recalled. “I had an imaginary friend named Ed.”

Clarice could see Emily’s eyes moving, thinking for a moment, trying to remember. “Oh yeah,” her grandmother said. “You used to go on all the time about him.”

“Grandma,” she hesitated, but the words still came out of her mouth. “I saw him today.”

“What do you mean you saw him?” Now Emily’s eyes squinted at her granddaughter, and Clarice worried her grandmother wouldn’t believe her.

“When I had the fight.” Clarice said, “I hit that girl with a rock. She was down on the ground and everyone was cheering around me. I wanted to kill her grandma. I really did. But then I looked in the crowd and I saw Ed. He looked at me real sad, like he was disappointed.” Clarice stopped there, still trying to process what she’d seen, before finishing  “Then the owner came out and chased us off, and Ed was gone.”

“Oh I’m sure it was just the heat and the excitement honey.” her grandmother said, evidently not thinking much of what she’d just heard. “Probably just some dirty old man checking out your ass!” Emily jested, giving Clarice a smack on her bottom. “Don’t worry about it. You just finish packing.” she said while she turned away and walked to the bedroom door.

“Grandma?”

“Yes dear.” Emily responded, turning back to face Clarice.

“Didn’t Milton use to see Ed when he was a kid?”

“Now that you mention it,” Emily’s eyes again wandered, as she was again trying to remember moments from so long ago. “I think he did.”

The Midwestern United States, 2003

“I remember you talking about Ed.” Whitman said to his son Milton around the campfire. “It was like you understood how other imaginary friends were in your head, but you always insisted Ed was real.”

Milton simply nodded. He’d now finished his food, and stared blankly into the campfire.

“I remember that day, Clarice.” Grandma said. “I was so surprised. You hadn’t seen him since you were little.”

“Well, Milton doesn’t want to hear about your imaginary friends.” Walter interjected. “He wants to hear about your first taste!”

Clarice was about to resume her tale, but there was one chapter she would not reveal. Her grandmother didn’t realize it, but there was another time Clarice saw Ed. It was just a few years before that fight, she was eleven, and she was bleeding. Clarice panicked when she saw the blood on her hands, but her grandmother explained these things to her. That night, laying in her bed, the darkness around her felt alien. She still held on to her childhood teddy bear while she slipped into a new world she never asked to be in. Clarice hated the feeling of the material between her legs. It was both embarrassing and irritating, and she couldn’t accept what her grandmother explained to her, that this was going to be her normal life from here on out.

Her feeling of irritation faded as she felt a presence in the room. Her mood lifted when she saw that lopsided grin and saggy baggy eye. The thing was, he didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked like he was mad. He was just staring at her while he sat in the little wooden rocking chair near her bed. “What’s wrong Ed?” Clarice asked.

“That’s what’s wrong.” His body rocked back and forth while he angrily pointed to her crotch. “You’re becoming one of those dirty harlots!”

“I’m not dirty.” Her voice contained a mixture of fear and anger, with a dash of confusion. She’d never seen Ed upset like this before.

“Yes, you are. First, it’s that, next it will be short skirts and powders. You’re going to turn into one of those Jezebel’s my mother warned me about!”

“Don’t say that!” Clarice tightly clutched her teddy bear as Ed ‘s body rocked back and forth. His eyes were now closed, and his trembling voice recited.

“For the lips of an immoral woman drip honey.

Her mouth smooth like oil,

but in the end; she is bitter as wormwood

Sharp as a two edged sword,

her steps lay hold of hell.”

“What are you doing, Ed?” she asked. Clarice knew it sounded like something from the Bible. She remembered her grandparents reading the good book to her when she was little, but that seemed like a lifetime ago, and that other life was not her focus now.

Ed then rose up to his feet and loomed over her in her bed. His rough-skinned hands clutched hers with a grip that was scarily strong given the man’s small stature. “Promise me,” he snarled, “promise me you won’t contaminate men like those other wicked girls.”

“Stop it!” she exclaimed, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go.

Instead, his face drew closer. The brim of his hunter’s cap almost struck Clarice’s forehead as he shouted, “Promise me, you harlot, you dirty fallen creature!”

Clarice screamed hard until the lights came on. “Honey what’ the matter?” She turned to see her grandfather burst into the room. Her hands now felt free, and when she looked with her tear-filled eyes, Ed was gone.

Before she could say anything through her sobs her grandmother entered. “It’s OK honey,” she reassured her as she held Clarice tight. Probably just a bad dream.”

No Gein II: A Second Helping. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Terror Remade

Mann’s Chinese Theater, Hollywood California, August 15th, 2003

Paparazzi crowded the approaching limousine which was soon bathed in a sea of flashbulbs. A beautiful blonde woman stepped out of the limo and waved to the cameras. As the lens of one particular camera zoomed in on her, the man behind the lens admired her dress, but wished it exposed more skin the way other starlets had. At least the dress exposed her back, which is where her partner placed his hand as he nervously waved to the cameras. The cameraman didn’t recognize this couple and could tell no one else did either as the sea of camera flashes quickly faded away. As the couple slowly walked the red carpet, it was obvious this was a new experience to them. “Who is that?” The cameraman asked Vanita, the reporter he was accompanying. “She’s gorgeous.”

“I think that’s the director’ s sister.” the woman explained. “The square must be her husband.”

“Yeah, like I care who the dude is Vanita.” 

“Just shut your mouth and keep recording.” Vanita ordered as an older couple stepped out of the same limo. Once again, the woman, an older but still attractive redhead, also in a conservative dress, waved happily to the crowd, while her partner, who was dressed to the nines, timidly ignored them.

“That’s the director’s dad and I think his new wife.” Vanita explained.

“Wasn’t asking.” The camera man said.

“You’re going to be asking for a new job if you don’t lose the attitude, Bill.” Vanita did seem extra bitchy tonight, but Bill understood why. She hadn’t gotten a big scoop in a while, and Bill knew how fickle this business was. He also knew Vanita feared getting the axe if she didn’t hit a big story soon.

Another wave of camera flashes swept the area, this time maintaining their intensity as a young man emerged from the same limousine. He posed to the crowd with a confident smile and a voluptuous woman on his arm. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Bill shouted as his lens zoomed on the woman’s exposed cleavage, he then moved the camera up and down her body, allowing his lens to capture all the exposed flesh her dress revealed. Billy was quickly yanked out of his own private fantasy by Vanita’s voice shouting “Let’s go!” 

Vanita shoved through the sea of reporters all making their way to the young couple. She almost reached him when another reporter pushed ahead of her and got the man’s attention. “We are with George Kohler, the director of tonight’s world premiere.” The reporter said. “George this isn’t your first rodeo, but are you confident about how your audience will receive this?”

“You’re right, this isn’t my first rodeo, but honestly, I am always nervous whenever a project is done.” The young director humbly answered. “I never assume anyone will like it. The original film is such a classic in the eyes of horror fans, and I hope I have done it justice.”

“Early buzz is this film is quite scary.” The reporter followed up with his next question. “Your name is fast becoming associated with the horror genre. What is next for you?” 

“Well,” George said looking over the crowd of spectators, “this is all great and I really do appreciate it, but I’m going to the set of my next film tomorrow and getting right back to work.”

Finally, managing to squeeze her way through the crowd, Vanita reached George. “Vanita Williams, Inside Entertainment. Word is you’ve added elements of cannibalism and other shocking content to what you refer to as a classic. There is already some controversy surrounding this film, as some say this was inspired by the late Wisconsin serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer.”

Billy loved it when Vanita got under someone’s skin. He smirked as he could see George’s face instantly shifted from being happy go lucky to irritated and stern as he answered, “Dahmer was a sick man and I in no way took influence from him. This movie is a period piece, and I hope it lives up to the original and the legacy it left for so many of us.” Vanita had one more question, and she knew this one would be the killer.

Henry was used to keeping stuff to himself. All that changed when Franki came into his life, as well as when he reconciled with his son a few years back. Now here they all were at a Hollywood movie premier, something he couldn’t have even conceived dreaming of during all those years he worked at Bethlehem Steel. As he watched George taking questions from reporters, Henry thought how things happened so fast and his son had been so busy that he never got to tell George how proud he was of him. 

“He looks a little upset?” Franki whispered in his ear while squeezing Henry’s hand. When he looked, he could see George did appear a little agitated while storming away from a reporter. 

As George and his date approached his family at the entrance to the theater his father asked, “What’s wrong son, that reporter piss you off?” Then, laughing, he added. “They didn’t say jack shit to me!”

Holding his date’s hand tightly, George answered “I’ll tell you later.”

Entering the theater, George felt more nervous than usual. Since cutting weight he felt more capable of dealing with all the stress the film business has to offer, but he put extra pressure on himself tonight. This latest project was a lot to live up to. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face. “You’re sweating again.” His date said sternly as they sat down. Her nagging only heightened the tension as he looked around at the packed theater. 

While the lights dimmed, George remembered the breathing exercises Franki taught him, breathe in, breathe out, focus on what is right in front of you, be present in the moment. In this moment, the curtains pulled back, and a beam of light shot through the darkened theater splashing on the white screen ahead.  Soon the color switched to green as an MPAA rating was shown for the upcoming trailer. 

“1980,” the white letters read on the now black screen, “Fear was born…” These words faded, before being replaced with, “1980,” which in turn was replaced with, “The nightmare began…”

“Yes!” George pumped his fist while his date looked at him confused. “I heard this was coming!”

A series of images involving blades and claws flashed by the screen before words reappeared reading “2003,” then, “The legends come together.” 

“Warn your friends,” the voice of a little girl now filled the theater, “warn everyone.” Then the words “face to face” appeared. 

The whole audience cheered as Kane Hodder burst onto the screen as Freddy Krueger, the villain from the Nightmare on Elm Street series. The tall muscular actor spouted out lines, “Welcome to my nightmare.” and “Why won’t you die!” as he battled what appeared to be a vicious monster. 

“This Halloween,” the screen read, “evil will battle evil.” before a female character appeared saying “Place your bets.” According to the end of the trailer, on October 17th, after years of the characters being in literal hell and, what was worse in the eyes of fandom, Hollywood development hell, Freddy vs the Devil would finally be released. Paramount’s crossover film between Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th would at last see the light of day. George yelled out a cheer that the rest of the theater soon followed. He was almost as enthusiastic for this as he was for his own movie premiere. Earlier, when asked outside what was next for him, George was hesitant to say what he really wanted. In the darkness of the theater, he spoke aloud what was his true wish. “Someday I’ll direct one of those.” George proudly stated while his date checked her makeup in her pocket-sized mirror.

Other trailers followed, and part of George wished these previews would go on forever. As the feature presentation was about to begin, he felt that anxiety creeping back up on him. His heart raced as the studio logo hit the screen. This was it, the moment of truth. George remembered Franki’s advice of being present in the here and now. He concentrated his whole attention on each second of the now rolling film. As the introduction commenced, he remembered how thrilled he was when he managed to get John Larroquette to reprise his role as the film’s narrator to the opening crawl. The actor, now known for his role in the 80’s sitcom Night Court, explained what the audience was about to see was one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of American history. It wasn’t really a true story, but that added touch always gave this title an extra sense of dread. Adrenaline washed away the anxiety while the audience cheered again for the opening of this highly anticipated remake, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.