Horror Hound Festival – 9 PM...
After spending some quality time together in their hotel room, Chase and Laine finally arrived at the main event of their trip—the Horror Hound Festival.
The moment they stepped inside, Laine's thoughts drifted away from the festival and back to the pregnancy test she had taken earlier in the hotel restroom.
She had been feeling strange lately—visions flickering in her mind like unsettling echoes of something she couldn't understand.
And now, the test had confirmed it.
She was pregnant.
She had tried calling Sam—Chase's best friend—to tell him the news and ask for his advice.
Sam had gone ahead of them to the festival earlier, and she hoped he could help her figure out how to tell Chase—how to comfort him if he didn't take the news well.
After all, Sam and Chase had been close friends for years.
If anyone could help ease Chase into the idea of fatherhood, it was him.
What Laine didn't know was that Chase had already made plans of his own.
He had been waiting for the right moment, planning to make their relationship official with a marriage proposal—right here, at the Horror Hound Festival.
The festival stretched out before them like a haunted carnival.
Towering tents and eerie booths lined the area, casting long shadows beneath the dim glow of gothic lanterns.
A thick blanket of fog crept along the ground, making it difficult to tell where the decorations ended and reality began.
Fake corpses hung from nooses, grotesque monsters loomed over the crowd, and eerie whispers played on hidden speakers—creating the illusion of being watched.
Themed booths offered horror memorabilia, creepy masks, and eerie trinkets that seemed a little too realistic.
Laine shivered, hugging herself.
There was something off about this place.
Something deeply unsettling.
But Chase?
He was having the time of his life.
Dragging her from booth to booth, he eagerly tested out horror-themed games, laughed at the actors in costume, and picked out merchandise—completely immersed in the festival's eerie charm.
Laine tried to enjoy it too, but the feeling wouldn't go away.
And then—
A scream. The Man with the Axe
"AHHHH!"
Laine's blood ran cold as a man staggered into view, an axe embedded deep in his back.
Dark blood oozed from the wound, staining his shirt as he stumbled forward, his eyes wide with pain and terror.
He gasped, choking on his breath—
Before collapsing onto a table, sending drinks and decorations crashing to the ground.
A horrified silence fell over the festival.
Laine, Chase, and the surrounding crowd froze in shock.
For a moment, no one moved.
No one breathed.
And then—
A medic rushed forward, pushing through the stunned onlookers with his emergency kit in hand.
He knelt beside the lifeless man, pressing two fingers to his throat, checking for a pulse.
The medic's face darkened.
He looked up.
"He's dead."
The crowd erupted into panic.
People muttered in hushed voices, their eyes darting toward the exits.
A few backed away, whispering about leaving before things got worse.
Laine gripped Chase's arm, her breath shallow.
Something wasn't right. Something felt wrong.
And then— Laughter. Low at first. Then louder.
Until the man— The one who had just been declared dead— Sat up.
His mouth twisted into a grin, his eyes wide with amusement.
"You guys fell for it!"
he crowed, throwing his arms up in triumph.
The crowd stared in disbelief.
Then— Roars of laughter.
Cheers erupted as people clapped and whistled, relieved it was just a prank.
Laine exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest.
Her heart was still pounding. Chase let out a laugh, shaking his head.
"Damn, they got us good!"
he chuckled.
Laine forced a smile, but deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
That it wasn't just a prank.
That this festival was about to become a nightmare.
While the festival buzzed with energy, a man stood near the edge of the woods, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.
The dim glow of the festival lights barely reached him, casting long shadows that danced between the trees.
He had wandered here for a moment of peace, away from the noise, away from the crowd.
But in the faint moonlight, something caught his eye— A tree, its trunk wrapped in rusted iron chains.
And there— A sharp, twisted iron claw, embedded deep in the bark.
The man let out a long, tired sigh, exhaling smoke into the cold night air.
"Let's see… will I be lucky tonight?"
he muttered, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot.
He turned to head back. And froze. A Shadow in the Dark. A figure loomed before him. Tall. Massive. Not human.
A wave of dread washed over him as he took in the thing's grotesque features— A trench coat draped over its massive frame, concealing unnatural, inhuman limbs. Its face?
The man's breath caught in his throat.
"Wha—"
Before he could react, the creature lunged.
A huge, clawed hand shot forward, wrapping around the man's throat.
His feet left the ground as he was lifted, gasping—
Then—
SLAM!
The monster threw him back against the tree with inhuman force.
The impact sent a violent shockwave of pain through his body—
But the real horror came next.
With a sickening CRACK, the iron claw embedded in the tree pierced straight through his spine.
His mouth opened to scream—
But no sound came.
Only a shuddering breath as his body twitched against the cold metal.
The figure stepped back, tilting its head.
Like it was examining its work.
Then, from beneath its coat, it pulled out a shuriken—a wicked, sharp-edged star.
And two daggers.
With a casual flick, it sent the shuriken spinning through the air.
Swoosh—
It embedded deep in the man's shoulder.
Thud!
A dagger followed, sinking into his gut. Another. Straight into his chest.
His body twitched, impaled against the tree, his life ebbing away with every agonizing second.
A faint, choked gurgle left his lips—
And then—
Silence.
The man went limp, his head slumping forward.
Dead.
The creature tilted its head once more, as if satisfied.
Then, without a word, it turned—
And disappeared into the shadows.
Vroom—
Engines rumbled as two cars and a truck pulled into the parking lot of the Horror Hound Festival.
The vehicles came to a halt, and their passengers stepped out, taking in the lively atmosphere.
Jojo and his group had arrived.
"The crowd seems really lively."
Freya's eyes scanned the festival-goers, her gaze landing on a group dressed as vampires, their laughter mixing with the eerie music in the background.
"Seems like this festival is pretty famous,"
Alice chimed in, eyeing the nearby game booths with clear interest.
Jojo noticed her excitement and smirked—she definitely wanted to try her hand at some of those games.
"Let's go."
He nodded toward the festival entrance before turning to Trish and her brother.
"And you two—don't wander off alone."
His warning extended to Gaylen and his granddaughter, who exchanged knowing glances before nodding.
With that, they stepped into the festival, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
Enjoying the Festival (For Now...)
Despite knowing that Creeper's cult members were likely hidden among the crowd, the group remained unfazed.
They could handle themselves.
So, rather than worry about retaliation, they chose to enjoy the festival.
Rosalie and Alice, unable to eat normal human food, veered off toward a game booth, eager to test their skills.
Meanwhile, Jojo, Freya, and Leah stopped near a food stall, curiosity piqued by the horror-themed menu.
"Might as well try something."
Jojo purchased a Creeper-themed roasted chicken leg, handing portions to Freya and Leah before taking a bite of his own.
Leah, smiling in anticipation, sank her teeth into the chicken leg.
Freya did the same.
Then—
Silence.
Their faces froze mid-chew.
A moment passed.
"Ew—!"
Leah suddenly spat out the bite, her face twisting in disgust.
Freya followed suit, her expression filled with pure betrayal.
"Why does this taste so bland?!"
Her narrowed eyes snapped toward the vendor, who stood behind the counter, arms folded, a smug smirk on his face.
"Damn,"
Jojo muttered after taking a bite himself,
"it's so overcooked the chicken tastes like cardboard."
Hehe—
The vendor chuckled.
"It's Creeper-themed roasted chicken. What did you expect?"
Jojo, Freya, and Leah fell silent, glancing at the crowd around them.
To their disbelief, others were happily devouring the very same chicken, glancing at them like they were amateurs.
Sigh—
Freya exhaled, shaking her head.
Leah's expression darkened, a low growl escaping her lips.
She leaned in slightly toward Jojo.
"Should we start with him?"
Her gaze flickered toward the vendor, a murderous glint flashing in her eyes.
Flashback…
Before splitting up, Jojo had given everyone a simple directive—
"I'll signal you whenever I sense someone whose sins weigh as heavily as the antique shop owner we visited earlier."
His ability to sense sins was invaluable in identifying Creeper's cult members, who had blended into the festival crowd.
On their way here, Jojo had subtly pointed out individuals whose aura reeked of sins, marking them as potential cultists.
In response, the group spread out, each keeping an eye on those marked targets.
Flashback Ends…
Thud—
The attention of the crowd shifted as one of the festival's main events was about to begin.
A large stage had been set, its eerie decorations and flickering torches adding to the festival's dark atmosphere.
People gathered, excited murmurs filling the air.
Jojo saw his chance.
He subtly signaled Freya, who immediately activated her magic—
Boom!
The shop vendor was suddenly launched off his feet, his body slamming into a wooden wall behind him.
Caught completely off guard, the man let out a grunt before collapsing against the planks, dazed.
Without hesitation, Jojo, Freya, and Leah stepped into the booth and shut the entrance behind them, cutting off prying eyes.
The festival noise outside masked any sounds inside.
Without waiting for questions, Leah moved forward, her eyes scanning the unconscious vendor's arm.
There it was—
The mark.
A Creeper's shuriken tattoo was etched onto the man's wrist, confirming his allegiance to the cult.
Schhk!
In a single fluid motion, Leah slit his throat.
Blood spilled over the wooden floor.
A sharp ringing tone cut through the air.
Jojo tapped his earpiece, connecting to the conference call with the others.
"Everyone, we've confirmed it. This guy had the Creeper's mark."
There was a brief pause—
Then came Klaus' voice, accompanied by the distinct splashing sound of blood.
"Yeah… I just noticed the same thing."
It was confirmed.
The group had already eliminated fifteen cult members, each identified by the symbolic tattoo of the shuriken.
A voice echoed through the festival speakers—
"Now, now… It's time for tonight's main event—an exclusive experience… available only to the chosen lucky ones."
The festival host, who had been overseeing the various events—from drama to dance to eerie singing performances—smirked.
Something in her expression glinted with mystery… and malice.
The air grew thick, the festival's cheerful horror shifting into something far more sinister.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
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