Chris stood in the dimly lit makeup room of his haunted attraction, Haunted Memories. The room felt cold, despite the sweltering summer outside, and the faint smell of latex and makeup filled the air. Chris looked over at Wendy Xu, his lead actress for tonight's show. She would be playing the ghostly bride in their new feature, Zombie Resurrection Night. The attraction had its flaws, Chris admitted, and the reviews from his mysterious black smartphone were unforgiving. Still, he was determined to improve the experience for his guests, no matter the cost.
"Wendy," Chris said, looking at her seriously, "Tonight's theme is all about the eerie atmosphere. Once I finish adjusting the background music, you'll need to plug your ears while playing the ghost. Trust me, it will add to the suspense. Also, I'll handle your makeup today."
Wendy grinned mischievously. "You can do makeup, Chris? This should be fun. Just don't make me look like a freak."
Chris smiled back, though his expression held a deeper intensity. "Oh, I'll make you beautiful—so stunning it'll take their breath away."
Wendy chuckled as she sat down at the vanity mirror. As Chris's hands gently touched her face, a flood of foreign memories surged into his mind. They weren't his own, but they were sharp and vivid. It was as if he suddenly knew all there was to know about mortuary makeup—color theory, anatomy, even death rituals. A calm, professional detachment came over him.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Wendy asked after a moment of silence, her heart starting to race. Chris hadn't said a word for thirty seconds, and there was something unnerving about the way he focused. She caught a glimpse of her boss's reflection in the mirror, his eyes unblinking as he worked. She couldn't quite place it, but there was something unsettling about the entire situation.
"A great makeup artist designs each look to fit the individual," Chris finally spoke, his tone flat. "Wendy, you have great natural beauty." His voice held no warmth. In his mind, Wendy wasn't even a person anymore—she was a canvas.
As Chris worked, his hands moved with precision. He muttered to himself, "Tweezers, scalpel, medical clamps… too bad I don't have embalming fluid. I'll have to stick with the basics."
Wendy's face paled as she overheard his words. Why would I need scalpels for haunted house makeup? She wanted to ask but hesitated, not wanting to offend him. Instead, she sat still, nervously glancing at her boss from time to time, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.
Chris muttered to himself as he examined the limited supplies. "The foundation is too one-dimensional, the blush too bright. Where's the lipstick?" He gave up on the store-bought cosmetics and started mixing colors himself, his hands moving with expert speed.
Wendy had never seen anything like it. Is he… mixing the makeup? She marveled at the sight, knowing it wasn't something most people could do.
"Chris, you don't have to be so hard on yourself. It's a haunted house—no one's going to notice all these little details."
"Shh," Chris interrupted, his concentration unwavering. With a few strokes, he applied a smoky eyeshadow, giving Wendy an air of both mystery and allure.
As she looked into the mirror, Wendy's eyes widened. She had never seen herself like this before. The makeup was flawless, transforming her into a vision of dark beauty, one that was both seductive and terrifying.
"Cherry red on its own is too plain," Chris continued, speaking more to himself than to Wendy. "But when I add mulberry purple, it creates a perfect blend, like the colors were meant for each other."
"Chris," Wendy asked, cautiously watching him test the blush on his own hand, "what are you doing?"
"The blush is too intense for a subtle haunt. I'm softening it up," Chris replied nonchalantly. His hands moved with delicate precision, and soon, the bright blush turned into a faint, almost ethereal glow.
Wendy's mouth fell open. "Where did you learn all of this?"
"I've picked up a lot of skills over the years," Chris replied with a smirk, his gaze turning briefly toward the eerie-looking props around the room. His mind buzzed with memories he hadn't lived—proof that the phone was more than just a game. It was changing him, and his abilities were growing.
In just ten minutes, Chris had completed the makeup. He stepped back, letting Wendy see the final result. "Look in the mirror," he said. "Are you satisfied?"
Wendy's breath caught as she gazed at her reflection. The face in the mirror was hers, but with an otherworldly twist. It was hauntingly beautiful, a perfect balance of classical elegance and a disturbing undercurrent of something darker—something dead.
"Chris, I've never looked this good before," Wendy murmured, reaching a hand to touch her face. "Is this really me?"
"Of course," Chris replied, his tone still distant.
"But…" Wendy hesitated, fingers brushing her cheek. "Why does it feel like I'm looking at a corpse?"
Her words sent a chill down Chris's spine. That was it. He finally realized why something had felt off. The makeup technique he'd used wasn't for the living—it was for the dead. His skill, Mortician's Touch, was meant to bring out the beauty in the deceased.
"Enough staring. We're about to open for the day," Chris said quickly, changing the subject. "Get into costume and head to the second floor. Remember, keep your earpiece in and wait for my instructions."
As Wendy hurried off to change, Chris turned his attention back to the props. The paper mannequins and dolls scattered around the room had also received his special attention, and under the power of his skill, they seemed to pulse with a life of their own.
"This will do for now," Chris muttered. "I'll repaint everything properly when I have more time."
He packed away his makeup tools and hurried downstairs. Before he even reached the front door, the sounds of conversation from the waiting crowd grew louder.
"Hey, you got tricked by that viral video, too?" one guest was saying.
"Yeah, I cracked my screen watching that crap. You?"
"Cracked screen? Dude, I almost threw my phone across the room! Scared the hell out of me—my parents came rushing in thinking I was having a nightmare!"
Chris stifled a laugh as he opened the door to his haunted house. His eyes scanned the line of eager guests, all buzzing with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy.
"Welcome, everyone, to Haunted Memories!" Chris announced, his voice carrying over the crowd. His lips curled into a smile as he took in the long line of visitors, each one here to experience the terror he had carefully crafted.
A nearby staff member from the carousel ride raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Chris, full line this early in the morning? You're doing pretty well for yourself."
Chris shrugged modestly, though his grin widened. "It's all about giving people what they want."
"What we want?" one of the guests yelled. "We're here to settle the score! You're the one behind that scare video, right? I want my knife! Where's my knife?"
The crowd's playful anger threatened to spill over, and Chris quickly raised his hands to calm them down. "Since you're all here, how about we deal with it in the best way possible? Face your fears head-on. Today, to make up for the video, tickets are half-price. Get in line—don't miss the chance to conquer your nightmares!"
The tension broke as the crowd cheered, and Chris's grin widened. Today would be a good day. Inside Haunted Memories, fear would reign supreme, and for Chris, that was the ultimate satisfaction.