It’s day three of Women’s Horror Month. When I think of horror, ghosts come to mind. The most popular ghost I know is Bloody Mary. Watching too many scary movies, I believe the urban legend is real. You’ll never see me looking into a mirror and chanting her name five times. No siree.
However, I can definitely write about Bloody Mary. I am a horror writer after all haha. For the past couple of years, I’ve been working on an urban legends novella, on and off. A serial killer terrorizes students on campus using urban legends for motivation.
If you follow my blog, then you know I hardly ever share any work in progress excerpts. Hopefully, by the end of this month, I’ll learn to be more intimate with my blog readers. I hope to show more vulnerability as a writer. So…today I’ll share a scene from my Urban Legends (working title) story.
Surrounded by lit candles, the group of six sat cross-legged in a circle. The floor was dusty, and the lights were off in the abandoned building. The group—three girls and three guys—had brought a full-size mirror with them. They had it leaned up against the wall.
They were in the next town over from Independence University. A group of high schoolers who wanted to seem cool by doing the tradition of trying to contact Bloody Mary on a full moon night.
Unbeknownst to them, someone was already waiting on them in a dark hallway near the room they were in. Dark shadows hid him well. Even if they were to walk past him, they probably wouldn’t notice him. He wore a long wavy wig and a baggy dress with combat boots. He had to look the part of Bloody Mary, even though there was nothing he could do about his male frame.
His partner, knife in hand, stood in the other hallway. No matter what—these six were trapped, a fatal trap.
He trusted his partner, no questions asked. That person wanted him to become a famous author and would do anything to support him. There was nothing holding him back.
A simple Google search had helped him plan for tonight. The group had blogged about trying to summon Bloody Mary as part of their high school senior hazing. They thought they were daredevils. Yeah right. If they were true daredevils, then they wouldn’t be stalling all night.
His right thigh was starting to cramp. He’d been standing still for an hour straight. He could only imagine what his partner was going through. Probably had to pee due to a small bladder.
Since the building was abandoned, the floor was weak. Any movement would cause a loud creak. If the teeny boppers heard it, then they’d be on high alert. Adrenaline could help them fight back.
And, he couldn’t have that.
He was a fighter, but being realistic, he probably couldn’t take six people all at once.
“I’m definitely getting laid after this. A straight up orgy,” a goofball said.
Sweeny Todd heard a loud slap.
“Ouch. What was that for?” Goofball asked.
“Stop acting stupid,” a snobby girl said. Her and Savannah could probably be friends, if Savannah was still alive.
“Let’s start the summoning,” a natural leader commanded. If any one was getting laid, it’d more than likely be him.
A few minutes passed, and the group still chanted some nonsense. Still stalling, he chuckled to himself.
Then it came. Music to his ears. “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.”
Sweeny Todd could imagine them huddled around the mirror, anticipating what would happen next. All wide-eyed like the scaredy cats they should be.
Counting to three, he snuck up on them, tip-toeing, so he wouldn’t get caught. All their backs were facing him. This would be easier than he thought.
He stood directly behind a jock, who wore a letter jacket. Probably a dumb football player who bullied his classmates who he deemed lesser than him. The douche bag should die on principle.
Sweeny Todd raised his butcher knife, then struck it through the back of Jock’s head. As the metal sliced through his bony skull, there was a loud crunch sound. He yanked the knife out. Jock slid down to the floor in slow motion like a horror director timed that scene perfectly.
“Looking for me?” Sweeny Todd imitated a young woman’s voice, all high and shrill. He might as well go all out.
A guy and girl glanced back and screamed. Loud noises would ruin his plans. He had to nip that in the bud quickly. He sliced the guy’s throat and watched him fall to the ground.
More screaming, but he was starting to enjoy the challenge. Besides, the abandoned building wasn’t near anything. It was isolated on a deserted farm. No one could hear the screams anyway.
He looked at the girl, who pleaded for her life. Like cowards, the other three ran towards the hallway where his partner was patiently waiting. He heard their screams, plus the thuds as their bodies hit the floor. He heard his partner still slicing and dicing. Sweeny Todd was proud—Bloody Mary was known for torturing her victims after all.
“Please don’t kill me.” He recognized the voice—the snobby bitch.
“But I’m Bloody Mary. What else am I supposed to do?”
“Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”
“All your friends are dead, of course, there’ll be an investigation whether you talk or not. At least if you don’t talk, there’s no chance for the cops to figure out it was me. No witnesses.”
The floor creaked as his partner strolled up to them. His partner grabbed the snob from behind.
“Surprise. Your summon was so on point that you brought out two Bloody Marys. You should be proud.”
A tear slid down the snobby bitch’s cheek. “Please…”
“Please. Pretty please with sugar on top. Please torture me, so I can be a legend, one of Bloody Mary’s victims.” He tilted his head. “Why yes, I can arrange that.”
He grinned as he struck the giant knife into her stomach. He stabbed and stabbed. His partner did the final blow of slicing her neck, then pushed the bloody dead body onto the floor.
Snob laid beside Jock like a twisted Romeo and Juliet story.
He high-fived his partner. They scanned the room and admired their work. His partner stood in silence as Sweeny Todd sat on the floor away from the bloody puddle. He opened up Google Docs, his cell phone illuminating the room. He typed furiously away, afraid he couldn’t remember every detail of this perfect night:
The horror in their eyes. The fear in snobby bitch’s voice. Some couldn’t even process what happened, dead before they saw the knife coming towards them. I killed three, and my partner killed three. I’ll have to get details from my partner, but I heard everything. The knife slicing through skin. The warm bodies that will turn cold before morning, falling to the floor.
He added more sensory details in his notes. This story would be awesome. A best seller. Readers would feel every murder. They’d feel like they were experiencing the pain with his characters.
He looked up at his partner to signal that he was finished.
His partner smiled a warm smile. “You’re crazy. You know that? You look so funny in your costume.”
“You’re crazy too,” he said, not annoyed. He was amused that his partner could tease at a time like this. His partner was probably more demented than him.
Just the way he liked it.
They didn’t bother to clean up their mess. The only thing they did was wipe off both butcher knives, then they laid the knives beside the victims. They wanted the cops to find the crime scene. They wanted the cops to find the murder weapons. They wanted the town to panic.
That was the only way to create history.
They walked out of the abandoned building towards some bushes and weeds. They changed into normal clothes, then stuffed crimson soaked Bloody Mary outfits into their book bags. No one would think to search them as they walked back to Independence University.
What did you think?
This is only a second draft. I still have a lot of work ahead of me for revisions. I’ve been editing three novellas at once–Six Plus One, my urban legends, and my crazy ballerina one. Surprisingly, I haven’t gotten editing block 🙂