The torrential rains had finally stopped, the storm passing as the moonlight filtered through the forest’s fog shrouded trees. Lost in the moment, Samantha stood
staring out into the forest, her Pinot noir fueled imagination running hopelessly wild.
“In every horror movie, why does the leading lady always manage to survive? Is it just in hopes of a sequel? I’ve always dreamt of starring in my own, real-life horror movie, the one where the heroine doesn’t elude her painfully deadly demise. Perhaps, I’m tortured by the inquisition, fated to either die on the rack, or if I live long enough to confess to witchcraft, end up being burned at the stake.”
Pausing to take another sip of wine, Samantha starred out into the fog swept forest, “Or perhaps, I’m starring in some tacky slasher film, where I’m destined to be the victim of some twisted psychopath, one who’s already stalking me at this very moment.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Samantha imagined a sadistic serial killer, one who’d slipped into this isolated mansion in the woods unnoticed. She imagined her surprise at the sight of his reflection in the glass, standing behind her, the razor-sharp blade of his knife glistening in the cold moonlight. Her surprise turning to horror, as he brutally ran her through from behind, the wine glass falling from her hand at the sight of that blood-soaked blade obscenely protruding from her lingerie sheathed belly just before he cruelly pulled the blade downward to disembowel her.
Opening her eyes, Samantha sadly noticed that she was still alone, that there wasn’t a masked serial killer standing in the shadows, poised with his razor-sharp knife to brutally disembowel her. “So, where’s the inquisition, or even a sadistic serial killer, when you really need them?”