Haley Thistle
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Mask the Slasher: Christmas Special (special preview)
🕑 Added 2022-11-16 22:00:04 +0000 UTCAll of my friends were dead. That much was certain. Everything else was up in the air, scattered about like the snowflakes in the air. They were all murdered, chopped up, left to rot in the woods or until they were found. But I have no hope that any of us will be found. We will all simply become another statistic, another rumor. We will be whispers heard in the air, barely uttered but oft spoken about. Our families will search, but we will only remain as questions to them. True crime aficionados will use our story for years to come. But as long as I am alive, no one else will have to suffer this fate.
If I keep moving forward, he won’t leave me alone. He’ll keep chasing me. He won’t stop until I am gone. Even if I had sought help or tried to get away; it would be no use. He would keep following me, hunting me, not stopping until he knew I was dead. And after that he would track another victim. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to be the last.
I ran deeper into the woods where the snow had turned to ice and it crunched under my feet if it didn’t make me slip. A winter retreat, they said. It’ll be so fun, they said! Rent a cabin, have ‘friendsgiving’ and a new Christmas tradition, they said. Little did we know what was waiting for us. Not some jovial Santa with gifts. Oh no. It was another big man with a burlap bag.
He always was behind me, stalking amongst the trees, whispering into the mask around his face. For someone so massive he moves silently and quickly, it gives me pause to what he could actually be. Not human, I’m sure that was gone in him long ago. Although I’m not sure he’s demon either, perhaps not yet.
He continually whispers behind his mask, having constant quiet conversations with someone or something. His hulking body is pale and almost gray. His limbs look dusty like a forgotten doll, his dark veins appeared like cracks on the skin.
The snow is falling heavier upon me, and no matter how far I go I always see twinkling lights at the edge of my vision, like the ones we decorated around the cabin. You could see them from the road as you drove up, on the small hiking path we took to find that damn old house. It’s as if the lights are in on it, chasing me just like him, reminding me how good we had it as a final nail in my coffin.
The man in the masl came to me first, appearing just beyond the cabin where my friends and I were staying. He stood there watching me, standing as still as a statue. I hadn’t been wearing my glasses at the time, so I thought he was one of my friends. I waved to him and offered to make him something to eat. He just stood there. I turned for only a moment, I made cookies and I was going to lure them in with one. When I looked back he was gone.
After that, we decided to go find a tree to cut down and put in the house. I was leery since none of these trees were meant to be chopped down, but they said it would be fun. They said it wouldn't harm anything. So we took that path and we found that old house.
“Let's go inside!”
“WWhat? It’s awful! It’ll collapse on us.”
“What are you, chicken? Let’s just peek inside! What's it going to hurt?”
The old house seemed to lean forward over us, casting a dark shadow that sent chills up my spine. Inside the place was fully furnished, covered in dust and decay. The floorboards creaked and groaned from our weight as we walked inside. I could see the twinkling lights on our cabin from the frosted over window.
“Are you sure no one is here?” I asked.
I was met with laughs. “It’s abandoned! Look at this place! I doubt anyone but raccoons have been here since Victoria was in diapers.”
I don’t think it’s that old, but I say nothing to the contrary and continue looking around. That’s when I see them, footprints in the dust.
“Guys?” I called out, but no one answered me. I heard them going upstairs but I stayed downstairs. I began hearing a whispering, a muttering, as if someone was just behind the peeling wallpaper.
