A Lucky Number
Blink and you may miss me. For I am known as Victim: 06. My local time here is NINE AM. At my age of seventeen, you may wonder why I focus on the specifics; the reason for this is because my age is of minutes.I look outward at a lake-side view; this will be the setting of the film in which I appear, Friday the 13th Part 12. On the twenty fourth hour of this day, I shall be murdered. That is the hour in MY necropolis of course.
I stand now, one hour later in a yellow-coloured field, staring directly across- at an old rickety house. It will be on the upper floors inside this country home, where I will be murdered.
We had been warned beforehand of severe weather upcoming, thick heavy snow, but still we had boarded a boat, and managed to arrive before a single snow-flake had fallen. That is me and two other males accompanied by three very foxy women. I can only hope my role approves of the usual conventions with them; these pleasures are the least I deserve.
The time is now TWELVE THIRTY PM, but it was less than ten minutes since I first came ashore here. Time flows differently in my life, far too much of it is simply trimmed away. I am moved to each specific room for limited amounts of time for my real destination point is currently above us.
Right now, I am munching down upon potato salad with a glass of brandy. I am inside the house and I sit eating my lunch with the girls. The room is quite large, with a high ceiling with windows touching the floor. The snow has now just begun to fall, and everyone sits up to watch; a smile appears on a long thin, brown haired, big busted; seventeen year old girl. I saw it and that means something.
It is now THREE PM, the snow has settled and covered the entire field. I stand, not in the same room, but one suspiciously similar enough to look the same, which also resided on the ground floor. It was far colder and had no added furniture (the tight bastard craftsmen, it was all so much cheaper).
I assume the date to be late winter because aside from the obvious, every minute that goes by the world gets a little bit darker.
My information is extremely limited, even to each current situation. For instance the brown haired girl is currently having sex with another man in the room right next to me, the girl I believe I was supposed to have. It has to be four-o clock now, no one can do it earlier than that, I know I surely wouldn’t. The world grows ever darker; my balls tingle, in frustration of my ever pending death, and because of the sex.
I knew there had been another re-write for I was now deep inside of her; “Puff-puff, thrust- thrust!” Her insides grew round, matching the swirling pinkness of the room. It was all a mess of covers with no bed. But I was enriched from the dark tight tunnel of flesh mixed with the essence of her earlier companion and her own. I became far warmer than ever before and I took back all earlier insults I gave to the craftsmen.
I no longer cared to check the actual time, what will be edited seconds for you, is a good half hour for me, so do not mock me on this performance. Every part of my being, truly existed for a minor second, and then faded far away.
I am now standing in an empty corridor, next to a thick wooden door. I am almost certain this door leads to the room in which I will be killed. I become cold once again.
Something has changed; I now stand in an old fashioned kitchen area. Something has changed.
Two people have just died, I see no bodies, and see no blood. I know they have been lost, and I know the monster must be close. The two had only just gone missing; ten minutes ago, but the clock shows they went missing at least an hour ago. It is now EIGHT PM and darkness surrounds the windows. It is coming.
The clock tells me it is NINE PM, my time keeping instincts have been fully restored. I am in hiding and will never tell you where I am, except that I can see the clock. I am entitled to some secrets.
I have not entered that dreaded room yet, but those of us who remain are inside there now. I have no choice, although I will never enter the room physically, I will appear there.
You yourselves must surely have seen the monster by now, the hour for me now is; TEN PM. I now know that I will be one of the last, as I stand inside the room now; I gaze upon my swan song.
An open coal fire burns brightly in the corner, and there is an actual television across from a luxurious crimson sofa. On the opposite end of the room is a large stained glass window, depicting a horned beast; with great green glass eyes and the rest of the artwork is made up of abstract patterns. Much of the films budget seems to have been spent on my departure. For this, I am grateful – more so than the rich puppeteer playing me.
If it wasn’t against the rules - I would have turned the television on, and you would probably have seen him in every advertisement. My guess is the budget went half on the room – half on my puppeteer.
The clock reaches; TEN THIRTY PM, which means I am now allowed to turn the dial on the television. The screen was blank, as it turns out all of the electricity in the house had been cut.
The door is being boarded by the two girls, it is now the eleventh hour. One of the two was the girl I have “had” in one of the bedrooms across the hall.
Tick Tock; ELEVEN-fifteen PM, I want to hold her.
Tick; there goes another ten minutes.
Tock, and another five.
A key moment has arrived. I leant over and gave my girl, a great long kiss, this is my job and this is my purpose.
I am just a marionette and may not be the one with the erection, and I will not be the one to leave here and squander through multiple partners. I am still me, and I have only minutes remaining. No matter what I have been said to have done before today, matters not; (for I was never granted a longer past).
I decided that me and her. We’re destined to die together and her death will follow my own, for our love is a plague unto the films narrative.
My hand slips under her blouse and I feel a sheet of rubber, her death has been designed to be violent and bloody. The rubber serves as simple protection to the puppeteers, but to us are our hearts and veins.
I searched through my eleven o clock body and I found my rubber, it will be a horrific messy death.
I grab her tightly, as the clock strikes; ELEVEN FIFTY PM.
Sometimes I can alter the mind patterns of my puppeteer and change things. The sucker has been played before, no one stopped us then and no one can stop me now. Another five minutes have now passed, I yank and I tear the rubber from my genitals and slip it into my pocket, just to be safe.
As the fire lit up the room, and the crafters were looking other ways; I took a hold of her hand and together we darted across the room, towards the stained glass window. The hand gripping her, that is my true hand and as we smashed through the glass, I heard the wooden door splitting apart.
I managed to stand, the snow was up to my shins; I turned to see and saw at last my Nemesis. As expected I looked directly at a large bald man, with a hockey mask attached to his head. He stared back at me from inside the accursed room. I was colder now than ever before, and the fires and the glow of the room gave a deceiving call for my safety. No, I had escaped the room, and absolutely nothing within these marvellous last minutes I have, could force me back inside.
I saw the shape of a woman in a hooded fur coat running away through the snow; was it my woman or could she be an angel? The darkness embraced her, and I no longer made her out. Loud static vibrations thudded violently through my ears, and white noise buzzed through my head until I was no more.
FRIDAY THE 13th
Short story, a lucky number
