Hallow's Eve

Orange jack-o'-lanterns flickered their internal lights on the Daviss' porch. Taylor and Blake watched outside their window - a cop car was parked on their street. Every window and door was locked, but neither of them could feel comfortable. Not after the day they had.

"This sucks..." Taylor said.

"People getting murdered does suck, dear," Blake said.

Though she rolled her eyes at his comment, Taylor still buried her face into her husband's chest. The original plan tonight was to watch horror movies accompanied by a big greasy pizza. It seemed inappropriate to celebrate now - not with the Thanato threat. It was killing Taylor, wondering if the killer would change his mind and start coming after the actual characters.

"I know Halloween is your favorite," he said.

"Not right now it isn't."

"What do you want to do? What'll make you feel better?"

"Aren't you worried?" Taylor asked, "Someone weirdo could come after us."

Blake shrugged, "I sharpened all of our swords. We also have cops watching us. I think we'll be fine. I'm more concerned that this will turn on you somehow..."

"You know I'm innocent, right?" she smiled, "Minus the masterminding... I guess."

"Of course."

"Well," Taylor sighed, "We can contact everyone, tell them to stay indoors tonight. Or at least fill them in."

Blake nodded and kissed her forehead, "We'll do that."

Together, they went through her contact list. Everyone from the first Thanato story, second, and third just in case. Anyone they couldn't reach over the phone they sent them an email and Facebook message - anything. Taylor already felt guilty as it is. If anyone else died she'd be destroyed.

"That was Alaire," Blake said.

"She should be safe," Taylor said, "Her and Aaron. Neither of them died in the series. And she's in Canada."

"Yeah. Canada."

"I'll still call Aaron... He's not picking up either," she grimaced, "I'll be back. Gotta pee."

Her worn expression gazed back at her in the vanity mirror. If only she had an idea of who the murderer could be. So she could actually be of some help and not as useless as she felt. The Sheriff only allowed her to look at all the puzzle pieces at the station. Even though it was sick and twisted, normally, she enjoyed puzzles of the mystery solving kind. The pieces, however, were all solid black.

They were getting nowhere.

Taylor left her bathroom and entered an empty living room. Empty except for Bruce cowering under her feet.

"Blake?" she peeked into the kitchen, "Blaaaake. Bruce, where's Blake?"

The bunny perked up at the sound of her voice, but his tiny body quivered. Both of his short ears pinched together and flicked from side to side. A chilly breeze hit her back, and the sound of curtains brushing against the walls.

The balcony?

Heart pounding, she approached the curtains - swaying and furling at the wind's touch. Taylor couldn't think of any reason Blake would want to step outside, especially right now. On the couch beside her, both their phones and even her laptop lay sprawled on the cushions. Her mouth felt dry, and she nervous-chewed her bottom lip.

She prayed he'd be standing on the other side of the fabric threshold, just enjoying the cool air. When she pulled back the curtain, however, nothing but darkness laid before her. When she was certain he wasn't lurking somewhere, she slammed the sliding door shut.

Taylor checked the bedroom, his office, even the closet. Their home wasn't that big - he couldn't be hiding anywhere unless he shoved himself into the pantry. Panicking, she reached for her phone to call him but remembered he'd left his next to hers. Why would he do this? Where could he have run off to?

The only other people who could've seen if Blake left the house were the cops outside. That meant she'd have to brave the dark to speak to them. She could shout for them but didn't want to make a scene just yet. Taylor talked herself up, and with hands clenched into fists, she marched out the front door.

And boy, did that walk take ages. She felt dizzy with each step. The street lights hardly did anything for her vision and made the dark street just more terrifying. The windows of the cop's vehicle were inky - light glistened in the reflection.

She didn't recall cop car's having such tinted windows. Taylor approached the glass and knocked. The wind caressed her neck, making her shiver. When no one responded, she banged on the window again.

"What the hell?" Taylor huffed. Are they asleep?

"Hello!" she persisted, "Could you roll down the window"

Taylor had seen one too many horror movies. These were all bad signs. Then again, she could be overly paranoid. So strange, she thought, it feels like everyone suddenly disappeared. Feeling stumped, she turned the flashlight settings on her phone and planned to blind them into paying attention.

The window, now illuminated, was not only tinted, but covered. Coated in a thick maroon layer of something. Before her brain even registered what it was, Taylor turned to run. Obviously, it wasn't the smiling face of a cop. It was blood. Or someone chucked their strawberry slushie at the window, but the consistency was questionable.

But back home wasn't going to be an option either.

Standing at her doorway was a tall, broad figure in a black hoodie. Blake was tall, but definitely not that tall. This was a stranger. Taylor gulped. She felt trapped between her door and the bloody car. A scream caught in her throat. If this was an elaborate Halloween prank...

It was probably a good time to check.

Taylor whipped around and instead of knocking on the cop's window, she went for the handle. As soon as the door was open, a body fell out and knocked her on her butt. The cop reeked of rust and something soiled. He was dead weight, literally, and it was an effort to free her legs from under his corpse.

Now she screamed. Screamed and struggled and cried. She kicked until she was free, and dug her hands into the gravel in order to help herself up. The stranger vanished from the doorway, but the shadows cast from the night and street lamps gave him plenty of cover.

She did her best to multitask, dial 911, and sprint for her life. Her legs felt like jelly, but she made it across the street. She wanted distance from her house but still be able to reach her neighbor's - if anyone was home.

Please be home.

"Help! Please, he-"

The wind was knocked out of her. A powerful arm wrapped around her torso. The rest of her moved forward while her stomach sank back. Instead of being pulled into someone's chest, Taylor was thrown back into the ground. Her head smacked the concrete, and black spots flooded her eyes.

She struggled to stay awake, but the pain brought her in and out of lucidness. The dark figure stood above her, watching.

Waiting.

Thanato people! Thank you for joining the short Halloween Episodes :) 

I have a proposal. 

In the theme of "breaking the fourth wall" as this episode teased, I'm curious if my readers would like to create their own episodes. You can write it and send it to me, or send me the ideas for your story, and I will write the episode for you. But you would be the star of your chapter. 

In the end, what I'm trying to build is an entire story written by several points of view but will somehow all lead up to one end. 

If you've read Episode "Eve-Eve" and "Hallow's Eve", then you know the basic background of this story: Thanato, a fictional horror story based on real/fake characters, is now haunting those same people and the author - leaving a trail of dead bodies, killed like the victims in the story, and blank puzzle pieces.

You can add any spin that you'd like! I will work my magic to make it correlate. If you're interested, please message me! If you also need another episode to help the creative juices flow, also let me know. Just remember, Thanatos, or whoever the murderer is, is after us all (hehe.) Let's solve the mystery together!

And 

Happy Halloween!

Eve - Eve

Taylor wiped sticky sweat from her brow. Groaning, she noticed the neckline of her nightshirt to be moist as well. She took even breaths and finally calmed down enough to stand. When she checked her phone on her nightstand, the time was only 3am.

Again.

For the last few nights, Taylor woke up at the same time, drenched in sweat, and heart pounding - as if waking from a terrible nightmare. Every night. Luckily, Blake slept through most of her stirring. She let her husband be, not bothering to wake him up this time, changed into a clean shirt, and decided to do something - anything - other than sleep.

She grabbed her laptop and plopped onto the couch in her living room. It was 3 in the morning, but that didn't stop her from opening a can of diet coke. To make the darkness less creepy, she left the kitchen light on and played The Office on the television. Bruce, their bunny, looked at her curiously. He wasn't used to anyone being up in the night.

"Hi, baby," she rubbed his nose after he leaped onto the couch.
Bruce nibbled her finger in response, then went about his business.

Taylor knew she needed to get some writing done anyway, so being up early was beneficial. She already had a guilty conscience not writing a Thanato story for October - her "tradition" of sorts. Not to mention the last story had been left half finished. Her novel was important, sure, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss Thanato - just a little bit.

After an hour or so, her Netflix struggled to load, pausing on the many absurd faces of Michael Scott. Taylor took this time to start editing a few sentences of her Manuscript, undistracted. Something else was on her mind, though. She wished she could remember the dreams she was having, and why they startled her so badly.

They had to be scary, she thought. She remembered how viciously her heart and chest throbbed. Her pulse was deafening in her ears. Just thinking about it made the hairs on the back on her neck stand, and felt the need to look behind her.

Taylor couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss. She felt it in her guts - tightening and making her almost ill. But what?

Bruce suddenly bolted for his cardboard house - something he only did when she vacuumed or something really startled him. Taylor jumped in her seat and then giggled, feeling silly. They'd been watching too many scary movies. It was October after all!

"What's wrong, buns?" she cooed.
Bruce hid so well, she could only see the light from his beady little eyes. Strange, she thought, and continued writing. She'd gotten to reviewing page 64 when a dull tap came from her sliding screen door.

Now she was scared. She could blame the wind and trees, except their screen lead to a balcony with no trees near it. Her curtains protected her from seeing anything. Maybe it was a bird?

An early bird... 

Another tap. It seriously sounded like a nail pressing against the glass, Taylor thought. When the tapping came in threes, her heart froze.

Tap, tap, tap. 

Nope, nope, nope.

She left the comfort of her couch to grab her husband. It could be nothing, but having him check would put her at ease. Just before entering the bedroom, her cell made the loudest, worst, text alert noise. She squealed and nearly peed herself. Heart back into marathon-mode, she checked her screen, the light burning her eyes. A message from Capri.

She'll have to wait a sec.

Taylor reached out for Blake and shook his shoulder.

"Hm?"

"Blaaake. I'm scared..." 

"Oh, ok," Blake mumbled.

"Blake!" 

"Hm!" 

A loud banging thundered from the living room. Her blood ran cold when she realized it was their screen door again. Blake sat up instantly. They were too startled to speak but looked at each other with wide eyes. Blake got out of bed to investigate, tiptoeing down the hall.

Taylor could hardly contain her anxiety watching him go. She fiddled with her hands, wondering if she needed to grab a make-shift weapon of some kind. After an excruciating few minutes, she heard him call out to her. 

"Nothin," he said.

Taylor trembled but felt relieved, and by the way Blake's voice sounded, he was relieved as well. Blake proceeded to perform a perimeter check, making sure all the locks were nice and tight, even pet Bruce, before returning to bed. 

"Probably some dumb kids," Blake said.

"Goodness... I almost had a freaking heart attack," she said.

Blake pulled her into a hug and fell asleep again, almost too quickly. Taylor lay awake, feeling better, but not entirely. It was one thing to bang on their front door, but their sliding door? Whoever was out there knew she'd been closeby - close enough to hear the tapping...  

She'd almost forgotten about Capri's text.

Capri - 
Taylor. Have you seen this?

Capri was one of Taylor's best friends and was also, usually, awake at odd hours of the night. Attached to the text were a link and an image - something about a recent death in the area. Perfect, Taylor sighed, just what she wanted to read right now. She replied:

Taylor - 
Noooo...  it looks creepy tho

Capri - 
But does it look familiar?!

Taylor frowned. Why would a crime scene look familiar? Unless Capri meant it was someone they knew personally. Worried now, Taylor opened the link and scanned the article. The name wasn't familiar, pretty common sounding. Spencer Conaway. The way he died, however, not as common.

The police found him in his own basement, shoved into an iron coffin - or iron maiden. He wasn't rescued in time, obviously. Suffering multiple wounds from long spikes and bleeding to death, no image of his corpse was available to the public. If that wasn't enough, the article made it sound as if the iron maiden was handmade - recently.

Taylor -
Holy crap!!! 

Capri - 
I know! I had to text you! It's so much like your creepy story! It freaked me out...

Taylor paused.

Oh. Her story.

She had to admit, that was pretty odd. And coincidental. How many people died from iron maidens these days? And the detail about it being in the basement? It was an awful lot like Taylor's first Thanato story. If she remembered correctly, the character's name was also Spencer. The unsettling feeling in her stomach returned. Her eyes started making illusions out of shadows - kind of how she did as a child. Every dark corner of the room or cracked doorway would somehow come to life and move or make shapes and figures.

She forced her eyes shut, knowing it was the only cure. When she opened them again, she was greeted by light. The air was warm she felt horribly groggy. Like deja-vu, she checked her phone for the time - 9am. 

They'd slept in, but it was the weekend. She didn't know how she'd been able to fall back asleep, but she had. Now they could go about their morning; shower, breakfast - 

The thundering banging returned, this time, from the front door. Afraid, but also annoyed, Taylor through on some slippers and planned on catching the pranksters in broad daylight. Blake sluggishly came-to, and followed with his eyes half shut. 

When they opened the door, the morning sun greeted them. Along with a pair of men in matching blue uniforms. 

*****

Taylor was escorted into a private room of the Sheriff's station, accompanied by the policemen who picked them up. Blake had to wait in the lobby but shot her a worried look before she disappeared. While sitting in the warmly lit room, Taylor couldn't get a sense of hostility. Not yet, anyway. Cops were always pretty stern, but they hadn't given any indication that she was in trouble.

Yet...

The Sheriff walked in and casually shook her hand. His expression was difficult to read; thick eyebrows furrowed in concern. He cleared his throat before speaking and met her eyes.

"As you know, we're investigating potential serial killings," he paused, "It's also possible that there are multiple killers."

Taylor wall filled in about the situation before arriving. Apparently, the article Capri sent her last night had some horrific significance to this case, and to her. She wasn't under arrest, yet, but they did want to ask her some questions. Taylor knew half the cops here - she grew up here, and her grandfather was a respected lawyer, so she felt in good company. It was like Sunday dinner, but discussing murder victims.

"Like the killer has a partner? Why do you think that?" Taylor asked.

"Because," the Sheriff pulled out several files from his drawer, and spread them out on the desk in front of her, "Similar killings are happening in neighboring states."

She took a closer look at one of the files. One labeled "Clowns" caught her eye. When she opened the file, a picture slipped out. A red-haired girl impaled by a hook, and her top drenched in blood. Taylor looked away.

"What was her name?" she asked.

"Jessica Niels."

Her heart sank. The Sheriff was able to catch on.

"I didn't want to believe it at first, but a message was left at the last crime scene. A message for you," he said.

"Me?"

"Looks like a puzzle piece but a picture of you was attached," he whipped out a ziplock bag, labeled "evidence."

Taylor took a closer look, without opening the bag - the contents covered in bloodstains. Inside, a puzzle piece with a black 12 written in sharpie. The picture of her wasn't one she'd taken herself, or with any of her friends. She was getting in her car, completely unaware of her photographer.

Creepy.

"You know why we're reaching out to you," the Sheriff said.

Taylor nodded, trying to keep cool. Inside her was a tornado of panic, terror, and despair. People were dying. People were being targeted.

Because of her?

"We don't want to believe you're part of this," he explained, "But, right now, we don't have many leads. You might be able to give us some insight. If you are part of this, then this is not going to end well for you."

"Of course, I'm not part of this," she gasped, "I will help if I can..."

He nodded, "Look at some of these, see if anything triggers something. We already got a copy or your story being analyzed, hopefully, we can stop the next attack."

"Who was last to die?" Taylor asked.

"Uh. A man named Blake Daniels. His body is currently with the coroner - giant hole through the chest."

"It's me," she muttered.

The Sheriff frowned, "What is?"

It was a hunch, but hearing Blake's name made her run through the list of people in Thanato. From the images, and even names, it seemed the killer was targeting specific people in accordance to her story. Blake was eleventh to go.

It was all supposed to be fun, scary nonsense.

"I'm next. Number twelve," she lifted the evidence bag, "If the killer is going in order of the Thanato story, that is. If not me, then someone with my name and general looks, just like Jessica and Spencer..."

He didn't respond right away, so she continued, "Were puzzle pieces found on the other victims?"

They starred at each other for a long moment. His tired eyes never blinked. Before he answered, she knew her assumption had been correct.

"Yes," he said, "But no photos."

"Are my friends in danger, Sheriff?"

"Though the killer hasn't come for any of you directly, I think it would be ignorant to believe otherwise. We don't know what game he's playing, but it definitely seems tied to this story. Maybe a crazed fan, or an enemy of yours?"

"I can't think of anyone who hates me that much. Or a fan who likes me that much either."

"Crazy people don't need rational explanations for their actions."

Taylor's hands shook. She thought about her husband, and how the copycat had already gone after his "double." It could've been him. It could've been any of them.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Well," the Sheriff scratched his beard, "We can play his game, put the pieces together. Although we're missing a significant amount - which means he plans to kill more people. How many more die in your... um, Halloween blog?"

"That depends," Taylor chewed the inside of her cheek, "There are two."

"Two more dead?"

"Two blogs..."

"Good lord."

Special Episode This Halloween!

erbak eht urtfho lwal