Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#052Reader Mode

T/N: Trigger Warning: May contain scenes of violence that are graphically depicted, which may upset sensitive viewers.

#052

Fred’s gas mask slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, leaving a bloody imprint on the earth.

“Sorry? What do you mean by ‘Sorry’, Fred?”

Fred Frank.

The Hamon convenience store’s jovial owner and Seojun’s employer, stood before him. Fred was known for his playful mustache, his love for traveling across the states, and his penchant for tidiness. He also had a pesky allergy that made him sniffle from time to time. Seojun realized that Fred always had a soft spot for him, but for all the wrong reasons—cheap labor and now this.

As Seojun blinked, random tidbits about Fred’s life flooded his mind and his rambling lips fell silent. Fortunately, it seemed his brain hadn’t been grazed by that bolt. He glared his remaining eye at Fred, the blood vessels bulging a furious red.

“The motherf*cker in front of the convenience store was you, huh?”

“Seojun, I’ve said it twice now, but your language is atrocious. Such dirty words are unbecoming of you. Please refrain from them. They sound undignified.”

“F*ck, what the hell are you… Ah.”

Midway through his profanity-laced outburst, Seojun’s rage-filled eye widened with realization. Fred had mentioned needing help with his brother’s work earlier today. If this was true, it spoke of a twisted and terrible fraternal bond. Disgust contorted Seojun’s face as he moved his bloodied lips and swollen tongue.

“Your brother was the campsite manager?”

“Oh, right! Puddy, my stupid and obedient brother. He was… unique, but hey, it worked out, didn’t it? Seojun, tell me, what exactly did you do to him? He may have forgotten every two things for every one he knew, but the guy was as strong as an ox.”

Fred’s eyes widened in an overly dramatic fashion, his nostrils flaring as he spoke, though his gaze betrayed a cunning glint. Seojun decided to play along and answered him truthfully.

“Well, Fred, there’s no easy way to say this, but a space monster kind of… you know, had your brother for a snack. Chewed him up from head to toe. Might still find his head if you look hard enough.”

Despite Seojun kindly answering him truthfully, Fred clicked his tongue sympathetically.

“Oh, Seojun. I’ve always said, drugs are a dangerous path. You really should surround yourself with better company.”

Seojun couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you serious? Life advice from a serial killer? My life is a complete joke.”

Seojun was so dumbfounded that he couldn’t even muster the energy to laugh. However, Fred, unfazed by the barb, twitched his mustache and continued his rant.

“These days, kids are so susceptible to drugs. It must be the environment. They’ll smoke anything, and then they start seeing things. Not just any old hallucinations, either. They’re seeing dinosaurs, Elvis Presley, and even the Mona Lisa! At least your space monster was original, I’ll give you that. But still, drugs are bad for you, don’t do them twice. I really wish the government would crack down harder on that stuff.”

“If someone heard you, they’d think murder isn’t a crime. Wow, thanks for the newfound wisdom!”

Seojun’s sarcasm bounced off Fred like water off a duck’s back. Of course, Fred was a hunter who had cornered his prey. Would he really get angry at the barking of a beaten dog about to be slaughtered? Seojun chewed on his ragged lips, swallowing his bloody saliva. He spoke in a somewhat subdued voice.

“Alright, now that we’re here, mind telling me why you’re trying to kill us? I mean…our relationship wasn’t that bad, was it?”

It was obvious to anyone that Seojun was trying to buy time with his chatter. Fred was no exception. However, he indulged Seojun’s shallow tactics with mock generosity. Fred opened his mouth as if being magnanimous.

“Well, I suppose you’d want to know. Sure, I’ll tell you. As you said, we had a pretty good relationship, didn’t we?”

Fred’s hands gripped the crossbow tightly as he spoke, his eyes alight with a chilling fascination. “Seojun, you know, I’ve been obsessed with murder since I was just a kid. The idea of… reprocessing someone, it’s addictive, more so than any drug you could ever try. It all started with my parents, or rather, my mother. Growing up in that suffocating Puritan environment, it… left its mark on me.”

Seojun stared back, dumbfounded. He’d gone from thinking this was a twisted nightmare to a surreal horror movie world, and now he was trapped in a clichéd villain monologue.

“Then, I happened to see ‘The Surprising Truths and Lies of Black Lake, and the Murderer and the Beauty.’” Fred continued, his voice tinged with awe. “It was a revelation! I realized I wasn’t alone in these… unique interests. If it was made into a movie, it meant there were others out there who understood, even if they were few and far between.”

Fred’s voice grew more fervent, his eyes reddening with excitement as he leaned in close to Seojun. “The pioneer in that movie… his name was Fred, too. The bear scars, the campsite manager… it’s all connected, don’t you think? No, it’s more than that. It’s destiny, Seojun. It was meant to be this way.”

Fred’s unwavering belief in his twisted version of fate had given him an unshakeable conviction. Right or wrong, he’d found his path in life.

Seojun, even in the grip of pain and fear, couldn’t help but feel a chilling sense of recognition. Fred’s fanaticism was a distorted reflection of his own obsession with reincarnation and future knowledge. Both of them had latched onto something, anything, to make sense of their lives.

Is this what happens when you live by fate alone? Seojun thought, a shiver running down his spine. Did I look like this to Johan, so consumed by my own beliefs?

The realization hit him hard. They were both products of their own warped worldviews, shaped by the stories they’d consumed and the lives they’d lived. But where Seojun had found a semblance of hope in his new lease on life, Fred had embraced the darkness.

Seojun, desperately trying to distract himself from their unnerving similarities, blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Truth be told, he had no real interest in asking more about this matter. “Even if the name ‘Fred’ is as common as mushrooms after the rain, if we’re going by your logic, shouldn’t your brother, Puddy or Pudding or whatever, have been the one named Fred?”

As he spoke, his throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, and he swallowed hard. With each passing moment, his fever intensified, and his vision blurred. The last shreds of resolve he’d managed to muster were quickly fading, eclipsed by the looming specter of death. The only thing keeping him conscious was a sense of impending doom.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into the ground. The stinging pain of the pebbles cutting into his palms was a welcome reminder that he could still feel something. Meanwhile, Fred nonchalantly flicked his mustache, as if discussing the weather. “Oh, let’s just overlook such a minor oversight.”

Fred’s casual dismissal of destiny’s intricacies irked Seojun, as if he believed he could simply reinterpret it to suit his whims.

“The thrill I felt when I bought this campsite with my inheritance still gives me goosebumps. It was as if the stars had aligned. Those were the days, though it was a shame I had to set up my butcher shop in a slightly different location than in the movie. I guess we can’t have it all, eh?” Fred reminisced with both nostalgia and a hint of regret. Seojun’s fading conscious snapped back to attention, zeroing in on one particular word.

“Butcher… shop?”

“Ah, yes, Seojun, my friend. A butcher shop, or as some might call it, a workshop. But I prefer the former term. It’s fitting in both meaning and appearance, don’t you think? I must admit, I tried relocating it a few times, but this spot… well, it’s perfect. The Easterners call it Feng Shui, I believe? Anyway, once I set up shop here, even the slaughtering of pigs became a breeze. Those were the good old days!”

Fred was lost in a nostalgic haze, his eyes gleaming with fond memories as he recalled the past, but then his gaze shifted back to Seojun, and the dreamy expression on his face faded.

“Ah, those wonderful days are over now,” he said regretfully, “You asked me why I chose you, Seojun? It wasn’t just your stunning jet-black hair and beautiful features, although they were quite irresistible. No, it was the thrill of skinning a young man with such hair that really did it for me. Puddy, my brother, had a vulgar taste for blondes, but I’ve always had a preference for the darker shades.” As Fred talked, a sickly green tint spread across his right cheek as the sun rose, creating a disturbing contrast against the foreboding blue of the early morning sky.

Seojun knew he was in a tight spot. No matter how much time he bought, there was no escaping the inevitable. Fred, for all his playful demeanor, was a seasoned killer, experienced and far from careless.

Short of a miracle, Seojun’s head was destined to become a human dartboard. Despite his mounting fear, he managed a sneer. “I’m flattered, really, but considering my salary, I find your story hard to swallow.”

Fred’s grin stretched on, as if he were a bloodthirsty Cheshire Cat. “What can I say? Times are tough, even for serial killers. The economy’s in the gutter, you know.”

“I’m curious, Seojun. Why did you feel the need to leave Wraithwood? If it weren’t for that, we could’ve had a much more leisurely chat. Instead, we’re rushing this whole thing. It’s a shame, really. I wasn’t ready to part ways so soon, not without reliving our precious memories.” As Fred lamented, dread crept up Seojun’s spine, but he felt something cold and metallic in the soil beneath his fingers.

At the same time, Fred’s eyes gleamed with pride as he pointed the crossbow in Seojun’s direction. “Wraithwood may not have been my birthplace, but it’s always felt like home to me,” he declared grandly. “But don’t fret, my friend. Your head, at least, will always have a special place in my… collection.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a dark omen of what was to come. Fred was clearly not looking for an answer; he was merely stating his intentions as a cold-blooded killer who found pleasure from collecting trophies from his victims.

As the sun began to rise, spreading a warm glow across the area, Fred stood tall against the backdrop of the dawning day. The dew-drenched grass glowed with life, and the aroma of moist tree bark blended with the chirping of birds signaling the start of a new day. Nature maintained its indifferent cycle, oblivious to the human agony unfolding in front of it.

“Ah…”

Seojun couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it all, realizing that what he had been looking for was right in front of him all along. It was simply to see the sky again tomorrow, to live another day in this world. For anyone, it would be just another ordinary day, but for Seojun, it was the very reason he had attempted to flee Wraithwood.

“Ha, ha, haha! Ahahaha!”

Laughter bubbled forth from his lips uncontrollably, both bitter and amused. The irony wasn’t lost on him. It was only when he was down to his last remaining eye that the world came into focus. The very thing he had been searching for was right here, in the expanse of the sky that could be seen from anywhere. The realization was both liberating and heartbreaking, as he knew that this might be his last sunrise.

“Have you lost your mind, Seojun?”

“No, ah… I won’t tell you why I tried to leave this place. That’s not something I need to explain to you, Fred.”

“Whatever you say… Well, it doesn’t matter. This will all be over soon.” Fred tilted his head and plucked the string of his crossbow, seemingly uninterested in talking to Seojun any further.

Suddenly, a third miracle emerged from the bushes in human form. It was Christina, her golden hair cascading around her angelic face like a halo, cheek dotted with freckles, and hands bearing the marks of burns. She stood trembling but tall behind Fred, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

With a deep, guttural breath, she unleashed a blood-curdling scream that shattered the stillness of the forest, a skill she had perfected by studying a certain horror movie scream queen. The scream, born from the depths of her lungs, was a far cry from Bobby’s pathetic cries. The piercing sound echoed through the trees, momentarily deafening Fred.

Startled, Fred instinctively turned around. Seizing the opportunity, Seojun got to his feet, his hand tightly gripping a sharp pipe. The pipe, once a harmless bicycle seat connector, had been severed by a Wraithwood police officer in a fit of rage against his delinquent son’s attitude.

Beneath the sixth oak tree, a few paces ahead of the butcher’s shop, Golden’s bicycle lay buried. Seojun had known this for quite some time. To survive, he needed a moment’s distraction, a severed pipe, and the resolve to become a killer. He couldn’t rely on others for salvation. Biting his lip, he said, “I have to do this for myself.”

Pching—

The pipe slid into Fred’s throat with a sickening ease, as if it were always meant to be there. Fred’s body spasmed like a malfunctioning robot, his eyes bulging with shock. He turned his head stiffly towards Seojun, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what was happening. Seojun couldn’t blame him for his disbelief; it was a crazy sight even to the one wielding the pipe.

With a grunt, Seojun pushed the pipe deeper. One inch, to be exact.

“Fred, I couldn’t care less about your goddamn childhood, your f*cking thoughts, your twisted mind, or your f*cking plans for the future.”

“Gugh!”

Fred gurgled, his hand flying to his bleeding neck as he dropped the crossbow. His other hand fumbled towards his waistband, but it was too late. Someone had already taken it away. Johan staggered to his feet and lifted his arm silently, the axe glinting menacingly in the dark moonlight.

Crack!

Fred’s skull cracked open like a ripe melon, his eyes protruding horribly. A quarterback’s strength was not to be underestimated. As Fred’s lifeless body crashed to the ground, Seojun stumbled back, barely avoiding the falling corpse. His strength was fading, and he could feel himself swaying on his feet, but Johan caught him just in time.

“Ah, Jun! You’re bleeding badly. We need to get you to a hospital, fast. First, let’s find some bandages or something to stop the bleeding.”

“…Johan.”

“Hmm?” Johan replied, his attention focused solely on Seojun’s injuries.

“Johan Gentil!”

“Yes?”

Johan, having just taken a life, seemed strangely composed. No, that wasn’t it. He was restless, but only because of Seojun’s injuries.

“How are you still alive?!” Seojun gasped as he frantically patted down and groped at Johan’s body. Even with a bolt still in his chest, Johan bashfully welcomed Seojun’s frantic touches.

“Oh, that… look here, Jun.”

Johan yanked out the bolt, causing the fabric of his shirt to tear, revealing a severed tentacle from the alien Monster X that had been in his shirt pocket. The tentacle’s teeth-like protrusions had gripped onto the bolt’s tip, stopping it from piercing his chest. Johan scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, I must’ve blacked out for a bit after that hit. When I came to, I overheard you and Gas Mask talking. I decided to lay low and wait for the right moment… and then Christina screamed.”

This meant that Seojun was not the only one who had seized an opportunity. Johan had been biding his time as well, and the axe, which was dangling defenselessly at the killers’ waist, fell into his hands just in time.

Seojun fiddled with the tentacle and the bolt sticking out of its mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. Johan, blushing slightly, muttered under his breath, “It would’ve been so much cooler if it was a rocket launcher, you know, like in the movies.”

“Johan, please,” Seojun groaned, “don’t even mention those horrible movies.”

Seojun’s remaining eye drifted to the axe protruding from Fred’s head, and he frowned. “Anyway, why’d you have to go and do that to Fred too?”

Johan shrugged. “Well, it seemed like he was a goner anyway. If he’d died, you would’ve been a murderer, and I couldn’t let you take that burden alone. If we were both going down for something, might as well be together, right?”

“Uh…”

Seojun stood there, speechless, looking up at Johan. The two of them were a sight to behold, their clothes bloody and tattered from head to toe. The gruesome scene around the campsite told a harrowing tale: the lifeless body of the serial killer they’d slain together, the otherworldly remains of a space monster, a cabin filled with the butchered corpses of victims, and a golden ratio’d corpse of a fallen soldier.

And their injuries were just as grim. Seojun knew, no matter how hard he tried to stay positive, his eye would never be able to see again. And Johan’s hands? Mangled and now with a clean bored hole straight through one of them. The thought of their future weighed heavily on his mind.

Yet, despite it all, Johan continued to flirt shamelessly, and Seojun couldn’t bring himself to mind. Instead, he leaned into Johan’s hug, comforted by the warmth it brought. With his one remaining eye, he saw the sun rising, and with his still good ears, he heard Christina’s footsteps approaching. Gazing at the dawning sky, he let out a long sigh. The night of terror had finally come to an end.

“It was such a long day.”

T/N: Our adorable simp Johan is okay, everyone! Please retire your rioting gear and digital pitchforks! Sheesh…readers have become so scary these days, LOL ┻┳|▸ω◂)ᕥ