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The basement is lit only by a kerosene lamp on the workbench,
the illumination pooling faintly on the damp floor. The lighting for this film low, but as a
filmmaker, I have to think about atmosphere.
Okay, the setting is cliché, but it can work. Besides, the atmosphere, while important, isn’t
my gimmick. If I want to take my
filmmaking to the next level, I must take risks. You, my future audience, will appreciate the
payoff.
I will blow your
mind.
You won’t see the usual unearthed skeletons or killer in a mask. People expect it.
People who see me in real life would never expect me to make
horror films. I’m a petite teenage girl.
I dress in normal clothes. No one would ever guess that I’m obsessed
with creating scenes of death and dismemberment.
I defy expectations.
My YouTube channel has 90,000 subscribers. It takes dedication to accomplish this. I’ve gone through buckets of fake blood, and
I’ve spent countless hours testing spray paints to see which ones will produce
a convincing metallic gleam on a wooden axe head. And FYI, creating a realistic rust effect on
a wooden surface is no easy task.
The front door closes with a distant click. My actor is
here. I hope he’s up to par. A shortage of acting talent has been a
problem. Some people are downright wretched at conveying the proper
emotion. Come on people! You know what it’s like to be terrified, don’t
you? Emote!
The basement door opens, and Nathaniel descends the stairs. The carpet on them is stained red and black
from my endeavors. “Hey Rachel. First one here, huh?”
“Oh, no one else is coming.
You’re the star,” I reply sweetly.
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I thought you said . . .” He
stops when we hear the lock on the basement door slides into place.
Yes, our basement locks from the outside. Thanks for that Mom. You’re so supportive.
“Camera’s rolling.” I
gesture to the tripod where the red record light glows softly. Then I retrieve the axe from the wall. Light reflects off the surface as I lift it
high.
“That looks real.”
Nathaniel’s voice is wavering.
“It is real,” I
explain. “You see, quality actors are
rare, and setting up the scene is so tedious.”
His eyes go wide. “Umm,
I don’t think I can . . .”
“Show me you’re afraid for your life.”
Now he’s emoting! Quivering
lip, heavy breathing. Nathaniel delivers
a performance as he scurries for the stairs.
I catch him quickly. One
swing and the blade sinks into his skull with a dull crunch. It sounds different from hacking into
watermelons, which is how I practiced. The
splatter effect is similar, though.
The brain peeking out through the wound is the icing on the
cake. Beautiful.
A few flecks of blood dot my hands. I’d better wash my hands so I can get to my
computer. I have a video to upload.
100,000 subscribers, here I come!
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