I wake up, gasping for air. I sit up quickly and run a hand through my hair and look around. Everything seems normal, except for the odd contrast between the unusually evenly lit house and the blackness of the windows. It almost feels like day.
Slowly standing up, I see orange and black streamers and both Halloween and birthday themed balloons staying still in their assigned places in this room, the dining room. I was in the middle of my birthday party, I assume, which I also had be a Halloween party. A half dozen or so lit white wax candles of different heights are clustered on the table. They make no difference in the lighting. A few plates with fingers on them are set in spots in front of chairs as decoration.
I see my phone set on the other side of the table and walk over to it. I check my notifications; only one: a text from my mom asking me if she wanted to pick anything up for the party on her way back from work that was sent at around 5:15. I check the time now and it's one in the morning.
I assume that the party ended early and that I decided to crash on the floor. I walk into the kitchen and step on every other tile for no real reason. Snacks from that night were still set out: sodas, bowls of chips and dips, and some Halloween and fall related sweets. On the counter next to all of these foods, I find an empty case of knives, probably taken out to use for carving pumpkins.
I take a bowl of chips and go sit on the couch. I look down at my feet as I walk, sure to place my feet on every other tile. I avoid the sticky spots of red punch as I walk. I look up once I reach the living room and notice one guy is still here sleeping on the couch.
Before sitting down on the other side of the couch, I grab the remote from the guy, who had it resting next to his arm. I notice a red stain starting from below his head splotched on the couch. I gently lift his head up and feel something wet on my hand. I pull it back only to find the horror of blood. My eyes widen and my mouth drops as I drop the bowl of chips and let go of his head. It looks like he bled to death; a large patch of skin was missing from the back of his head and neck, but it wasn't missing, it was smushed together in his mouth.
I grab my phone and quickly start to dial 911 while running up the stairs. When I reach the top, I find another surprise: I wasn't the birthday girl, I was only throwing a surprise party. Tied to a chair with balloons tied to the back is some girl. Parts of her costume are torn off and strewn around her in no specific pattern. Her hair is severely messed up. A piece of duct tape that used to cover her mouth dangles from her cheek revealing some missing teeth and the others remaining are blood-stained. The hands tied behind the chair are lacking fingers. Many cuts are made on her legs starting from mid-thigh all the way down to her feet.
She is not the only one dead. More bodies, all with hands and feet bound, are crumpled in odd positions on the ground. All of them had knives still in them. Stabs and cuts are all over them. Knives were left in chests, through hands, in eyes. One has a nose missing. Another, a head.
I run into my room, hoping to find safety, but instead find the marks of the insane. Blood is splattered and smeared on the walls; there are no symbols or words. The room reeks, and I find a bucket of leftover blood on the desk.
In the mirror decorated with pumpkins, scarecrows, and stickers with "Happy Halloween!" and "Happy Fall!" on them and see someone else. The person is very red with blood, with a smile on their face. The hair is crazed and the eyes are maniacal. The clothing is ragged and show no care in appearance. I look down at myself and am horrified to see what I see in the mirror. But slowly, an odd pleasure fills me as I walk through the house again in a prideful manner.