Isabutterfly

Scarlett had always been intrigued in halloween, She spent her childhood watching horror movies and reading ghost stories, always craving the thrill of being scared. So when she heard about the Haunted Hook Up, a Halloween carnival where people could experience horror and pleasure at the same time, she knew she had to be a part of it. As an aspiring actress, Scarlett saw this as the perfect opportunity to showcase her talent. She auditioned for a role at the Haunted Hook Up and was thrilled when she got the job. Little did she know, her journey was about to take an unexpected turn. At first, Scarlett's job was to scare people as they walked through the carnival. But as the night went on, the atmosphere changed. One night, as she finished her shift and returned to her hotel room, she was greeted by a figure in a ghostface costume. She assumed it was James, her childhood friend who often visited her after hours. But as the night progressed, she realized that it wasn't James, but a stranger she didn't even know. Scarlett was determined to find out who this mystery person was, but she couldn't until two years later when he returned and broke into her hotel room again. This time, she was ready for him and as she revealed his identity

Scarlett's Play House

I'd been buried under paperwork for eight hours, fingers stained with ink and cliché horror tropes. A cold brew and takeout from Jason was all that broke the monotony. I knew I should have been grateful; after all, this place didn't run itself. Jason strolled in, his chill demeanor unraveling slightly in the wake of my cold, dark energy.

"Hey, Grayson!" he grinned, unknowingly breaking my concentration. "You wanna join me in scaring some folks tonight?"

"Maybe," I replied with nonchalance, though beneath the surface, a flicker of interest ignited. I didn't know if it was the thrill of the chase or the distant spark of curiosity, but the prospect of seeing her again hung in the air like an unsolved riddle: Scarlett. The only person who brought a quickbeat to my heart that I couldn't suppress.

Again, I paused. My fingers drummed across cold, hard paperwork, but my mind wandered to what she'd experienced in the past few days. Visions of her—a canvas against the backdrop of darkness, her beauty through neon lights—flickered across my mind. I wanted to draw her out, to taunt her just enough until she faced me head-on.

As the twilight hours settled around the attraction, I decided to watch her. Evading motivation, I tuned into the camera feeds from my office, leaning back in my chair. My grey eyes honed in, and there she was—at her face-painting station, surrounded by eager guests, but she looked tired, anxious even. Messy curls danced across her forehead as she spoke, hands painting masks of fear on others while she wore a mask of her own: forced cheeriness, thinly veiled unease.

Something had happened to her since the last time I watched her. My smirk returned with interest; wondering what private demons had left their mark on her spirit. I had to draw this out longer. Cryptic and shadowed, I slipped into my Ghost Face costume, the white mask cold against my skin, a shroud of darkness embracing me. I embraced the thrill of lurking.

The haunted corridors held tales of terror, and tonight, I would add another layer. Camouflaged by the shadows, I prowled past screaming guests and strobe lights, before alighting on my prey. Scarlett. She flitted from group to group, her laughter a siren call against the backdrop of alarmed screams.

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