Bennett Fort ’19
“You know how people always talk about how they wouldn’t do things that people do in horror movies?” Roscoe was about to go on a rant, Arthur knew it. His diatribes always commenced with crap like that. Arthur remembered once he started one with, “You know how chickens have wings? Well, like what if they had human arms.” It was always something pointless like that. But Arthur knew he was in for it this time. No one starts a thought with “you know how,” like Roscoe.
“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t know why he enabled Roscoe.
“Well, like that’s not true. If it were, people wouldn’t die in haunted houses all the time.”
There it was. The strange, kinda off-putting, and very very incorrect thought that only Roscoe had. Arthur jumped immediately to challenging him.
“You know how all these people are dying in haunted houses? Yeah well if the whole thing of not making stupid decisions was true then people wouldn’t die in haunted houses all the time.”
“People don’t die in haunted houses that frequently. Like it’s not something that happens that frequently. That’s stuff that happens in movies.”
“Oh yeah?” Roscoe pulled out his phone and began typing quickly. He kept pausing to read something, just before quickly going back to work. Finally, he stopped and handed the phone to Arthur. Arthur began to scroll. Countless news websites were open on Roscoe’s phone, all of which had headlines referencing teenagers who died in old, supposedly haunted, houses.
Arthur shook his head. “C’mon this ain’t real.”
Roscoe looked to Arthur for a few seconds, before opening his mouth. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you let’s go.”
“The old house down the road. It’s supposedly haunted and I’ll prove to you that people in real life still make stupid decisions.”
“Alright, but it’s not gonna be like that. We’ll get out fine. Because people are smart in the real world.” Arthur smiled a bit.
Arthur and Roscoe stood outside of a monstrous house. Cobwebs and out of place wooden planks covered the house. It looked exactly like every single haunted house ever. Roscoe turned to Arthur.
“So, we’ve got the flashlights and our rational brains?”
Arthur nodded his head. Then, they both entered the house. Inside, Roscoe and Arthur stayed together, backs to each other. Walking up the stairs, they heard a door slam. They were both visibly shaken but refused to go to the source of the noise.
“See? We’re smart. We’re gonna be fine.” Arthur was confident they were going to be fine, but Roscoe was still unsure of himself. They turned around and opened the door to the basement.
“The correct choice would be to not go down there right? I mean, after all, people do it all the time in movies and they die,” said Arthur. Roscoe confirmed Arthur’s point with a nod. They shut the door and entered the kitchen at the back of the house. It was a rather bespoke kitchen for a rundown house. All of the cabinets were white, but the paint was chipping.
After they entered the kitchen, a figure appeared in the adjoining room. It entered, grabbed a bunch of knives from the utensil drawer and approached the boys. Roscoe turned, exclaiming “It’s a ghost!”
The ghost pounced, stabbing both of them.
Film credits began flashing across the screen.
Inside a dark, quiet movie theater, a man got up from his seat. His fluorescent shorts lit up the theater as he made his way out. A woman who was sitting next to him got up as well, following him out. Out on the bustling, crowded street, the woman ran to catch up to the man. The man had hardly noticed she was missing but nodded to her, simply acknowledging her existence.
“What’d you think of it?” She was genuinely curious, waiting for his response.
“I loved its fresh style and self-awareness. Great writing too.” The woman was a bit disappointed by the man’s answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man sped forward, desperate to get back home quickly.