Nightmares of a Psychopath: Performance

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

I might kill my friends one day. I don't think I'd realize it though.

I'd rather not spoil the aesthetic so forgive me for not explaining more of the story.

This is entirely unfinished btw. I sort of want to update this every now and then when I get time. For now there isn't really much there. I want to write more but I have things to do. It'll be a
good read though, I promise

Oh, and the whole spiel of 'this is my first story etc.' applies here

Submitted: November 01, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 01, 2017



/I want to make it clear that there is a reason that I haven't used any " 'blah blah blah,' he said " etc. and the general idea of exact speech, it's difficult but a part of the aesthetic i guess. Also I have no real idea how to thread character introductions into a story so please bear with me until the story gets to the actual thriller part\



Small rocks kicked up, chipping at the faded, red paint of the old jeep. I stared out the window. There was another gravel road down through the trees, just as long and dangerous as the mountain trail we were on.

 The Jeep slowed as we turned a precarious corner. No-one was worried, the driver was great at everything he did. (Name 1) was his name. Talkative and always one to stick to a plan. 

 There was a checkpoint up ahead with a small booth and an equally small boomgate. A winding road retreated into the woods behind it. The jeep stopped at the gate and a small, nervous looking man, made even smaller by the military gear he was dressed in, stepped out of the booth. He asked for I.D. and how long we would be up at the campsite. (Name 1) answered and quickly showed him his license. 

 (Name 1) was striking up a conversation with the guy, something about rumors and things that go bump in the night. A sudden scream from the passenger seat made them both jump. The loud one sitting there with a goofy grin on her face was (Name 2). She'd watch the world burn if only for her own enjoyment.

 Obviously annoyed and now quite visibly, shaking, the small man told us to leave and avoid making trouble for the other campers. (Name 2) laughed maniacally as we pulled away and continued up the mountainside. The last of our group sat there quietly. Her name's (Name 3). A face among a crowd. (Name 3) mumbled something about military presence but it was lost beneath the loud arguing going on in the front seat. It annoyed me how loud they were being.


/Originally, I wanted the friends to be a faceless group and build on them very little, hence the lack of names, I don't think that'll be the case in the end though. Character building will certainly increase the word count but it'll be incredibly difficult to do without direct quotes etc.\



The campsite wasn't too impressive. There was a small park with a swingset and some children running back and forth. A few caravans were dotted around the site, probably never moving from their spots ever again. Their owners sitting out front, drinking, smoking and laughing loudly.

 They annoyed me.

 We hopped out of the jeep and began unpacking. I heard something that caught my attention: music, faint but definitely there. It wasn't anything like what these regulars looked like they might listen to, not something so abrasive and electronic. I left the jeep and wandered away, looking for the source. 

 The music got louder as I approached a steep, downward slope. Looking out over the ground  below me, I saw a large clearing with a parking lot off to the right. A few decrepit military-trucks lay next to some tiny, no-name european cars that looked freshly abandoned. On the side of the clearing closest to my vantage point, was a large stage, fully built but still covered in scaffolding. It faced away from me, out towards a non-existent crowd. The place was seemingly full of noise and movement but no actual life to speak of.

 Mabye it was a rehearsal.

 Time had obviously passed, as my friends had walked up and stood silently beside me. They knew how I was, with my innate ability to stare at something, ages at a time, without a word. I felt them turn and leave.

I took a slow, careful step forward.

 A veil of darkness covered the area below me. The whole place looked alive and I coud see shadows moving between the cracks in the stage. There was laughter rising from the clearing below me. It sounded like fun and I wanted to see more.

 The world began to tip as the grass came up to meet me.





Pain. A gut wrenching pain. All through my chest and abdomen. Like a cast iron spike had been thrusted into my belly and up into my lungs. I screamed, but not aloud. It was a mental scream mixed with a terrible, guttural groan begging for the pain to go away.

 There was nothing I could do. The world was dark and cold. I was alone. The only emotion that passed through my fleeting consciousness was a terrible hatred.

 What did I hate?

 Thoughts swirled and twisted their way through my mind. Thoughts of my friends. Thoughts of betrayal. All contradicting eachother. All so very confusing.





No-one was on stage. I saw the front of it for the first time though, sitting there in the field. It was empty. 

 I stared at the stage.

 An unnaturally still shape started to rise from the elevated arena in front of me, a scarecrow cloaked in eerie blackness.

 Another scarecrow started it's ascent, then another, and another. They continued to appear and rise, all in the same, slow, perfectly still manner that made it look as if they were being lifted by wires.

 My thoughts turned away from the figures on the stage as I looked at my surroundings. I sat on the wet grass, only now realizing where I was. The carpark to my left and the stage to my front. Only gods knew how I ended up in front of the stage.

 To my right I noticed a watchtower. Tall grass surrounded the foundation, it was pretty well hidden. Cables trailed all over the large booth and down the stairs that permitted access to it. A small satellite bolted crudely to the side and a massive array of antennas were set up on top.

 As I turned further, the abundance of recording equipment became clear. Stacks of boxes, wires, loudspeakers, computers and large camera booms where strewn all over the field. It looked like a warzone.

 Mabye there was a riot.

 A breeze made it's way through the wreckage around me.



 Faint laughter filled the still scene. It echoed quietly across the field.




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