Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#057Reader Mode

T/N: Sup! I’m back! Did ya miss the series? I can practically feel your anticipation sizzling through the screen. You don’t even have to deny it, my adorable little psychos. We both know we live for this kind of thing. Year-round horror! Romance! Let’s have fun with this arc too! (/≧▽≦)/

Arc 2

Don’t Do That

#057

1. The Murderous Scarecrow

A blue pickup truck barreled down the dusty highway, its exhaust fumes mixing with the sand and dust that clung to the breeze, as if they were permanent residents. Upbeat country music poured from the half-lowered windows, the tarp-covered truck bed pulsing with the twang of guitars and banjos. The melody was infectious, its energy contagious, and the singer’s voice melded perfectly with the instruments, building to an epic crescendo.

Just as the music reached its fever pitch, the guitar strings thrumming with anticipation, a gloved hand shot out and twisted the radio dial. The melody disintegrated into static. Seojun sighed heavily, his expression gloomy. The sigh, laden with unspoken worries, hung in the stuffy truck cab for a moment before dissipating into the dry air.

Ah, I need to stop thinking.

But the more he tried not to think about it, the more his mind raced. Memories began to surface, like a movie playing unbidden in his head.

“Just try having sex with me! I’ll rip off your face, Johan!”

“F*ck…..”

What the hell was he thinking, blurting out nonsense like that? Frustrated, he smacked his forehead against the steering wheel, accidentally hitting the horn. The loud blast echoed down the empty road. Embarrassed, he didn’t even want to lift his head. One glance in the rearview mirror confirmed his cheeks and ears were glowing bright red. Could this get any more ridiculous?

His one eye that wasn’t covered by an eyepatch glanced around aimlessly. The other wasn’t the same beloved eye he was born with. That cute, squishy little thing had burst a long time ago.

The high-tech prosthetic that replaced it was supposed to be top-of-the-line, but it never quite felt right. Sometimes it felt cold, other times hot. He knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him, his mood messing with his senses.

Seojun lightly tapped his left eyelid with his left hand. Even without glasses or contacts, his vision was crystal clear. Too clear. He saw things he wished he could unsee, like the lovesick puppy eyes of a guy in love.

“Ugh…” He groaned, squirming in the driver’s seat like a frog about to pop. The truck’s wheels bounced on the gravel, sending pebbles flying everywhere. Seojun tried to push those thoughts out of his mind.

This road was a mess. Even the tumbleweeds blown by the wind looked grimy. No matter how wide he opened his mouth, it still wouldn’t feel clean.

The shiny new Interstate 4-4-4 was supposed to be this awesome high-speed road, but it was hard to appreciate the little things when zooming by. The government had stitched together some old roads to create the 4-4-4, unlike the classic Route 44 or Old 444. They called it ‘newly opened’, but it was more like they finally got around to patching up some beat-up stretches. Parts of it were still pretty rough.

Especially the section between Oregon and Nevada, where Seojun’s trusty truck was finally living his dream of cruising the open highways. The road here was just two lonely lanes, cracked and weed-infested. You might wonder if it even counted as a road. At first glance, the 4-4-4 seemed destined to be forgotten, like a failed project. Seojun wouldn’t have chosen this route, except it was close to Wraithwood and perfect for crossing the United States.

With cornfields stretching endlessly on either side, the road was so desolate it made you feel lonely. No one was around to witness Seojun’s questionable driving skills as he swerved over the lines, barely keeping it legal. His truck swayed like a drunken sailor, which was probably for the best.

The silence allowed memories to flood back, and alone with his thoughts, Seojun’s embarrassing past felt all too real. He blushed, remembering how Johan had kissed that photo, over and over again. That day, his mystical supernatural powers had ignited out of nowhere.

Johan’s dumb, stiff face holding the plate of swiss cakes… his fingers gently caressing the photo… the day Seojun had run home screaming, totally mortified.

The awkward realization that all Johan wanted was a simple kiss!

Seojun wanted to iron out the wrinkles in his brain and erase those memories, but they kept resurfacing. The cringeworthy words he’d blurted out that night in the dark woods echoed in his ears on repeat. Was it a bug bite that made him lose his mind? The frigid wind that numbed his senses? Why had he said those things? He must’ve completely lost it, right?

A million questions fizzed in Seojun’s mind like shaken soda. As the void inside him grew with each regret, one nagging question remained: Should I spend my life carrying this shame? The thought was fleeting, and so was his decision.

He ran.

Away from Wraithwood. Away from a man named Johan.

Seojun wasn’t one to overthink things. His jumbled thoughts spurred him into action. Distancing himself from Christina, convinced he was reborn in a horror movie world, proved that.

A lukewarm breeze tapped against the truck window and vanished. The sandy gust added charm to his ride, its paint now fading. He gripped the steering wheel, his fingers tracing the worn leather, a dream come true. The truck, a perfect match to the one he’d always fantasized about, had been made possible with his parents’ help. Ironically, as soon as he’d decided to leave, everything fell into place effortlessly.

Ever since he was a kid, Seojun had dreamed of breaking free from Wraithwood, chasing sunsets, and leaving his past behind. He’d imagined it all—breathing in the scent of spring flowers, seeking refuge from the summer heat, crunching autumn leaves under his boots, and even tracking migratory birds’ footprints on snowy winter nights.

He had a whole list of 101 reasons ready to convince his parents to let him go, but to his surprise, they caved before he even got to reason number five. It was like the lifted threat of him potentially being kidnapped had melted their hearts. Plus, the horrifying reality that Seojun had nearly been murdered in Wraithwood, the place they’d hidden him for safety, must have also pushed them. With a newfound sense of freedom, Seojun hit the road in his dream truck, his bank account loaded, some cash in his pocket, and his life’s essentials neatly packed in bags.

Seojun grabbed a handful of candy from the glove box and, with a flashy move, unwrapped a few and tossed them into his mouth.

“A name sweeter than candy—that’s freedom.”

As the sugary taste melted on his tongue and his cheeks puffed out, Seojun felt a surge of excitement, like he was one of those cool millennial influencers. Surprisingly, he felt pretty awesome and refreshed. Even though his dark blue jacket, faded jeans, stretched-out T-shirt, and scuffed sneakers seemed more suited for tumbling tumbleweed than budding spring, his spirit remained young.

His lips curled into a smirk, and a smug face stared back at him from the rearview mirror. But his smile quickly faded. His mood swung wildly like a pot of bubbling soup, and the high was always followed by a crash.

Better not go back until I forget all that cringe…

Seojun checked his teeth in the mirror, his face set with determination. He refused to let the sticky memories drag him down, gritting through them like the cloying candy juice. He’d chosen to enjoy his freedom, and overthinking would only waste it.

“Believe and the universe provides. Cheer up, my dear brain cells,” he told himself, wrapping up his self-brainwashing talk in a flash. Ready to flip on the radio and lose himself in some upbeat tunes, he reached for the dial.

But instead of a country singer’s lively vibrato, a nails-on-chalkboard screech erupted from the speakers, like auditory sewage rushing through a drain.

“Ugh!” Seojun yelped, startled. His hands jerked the wheel to the right, sending the truck swerving off the lonely road and onto the gravel shoulder. The rear wheels bounced over the uneven ground until the truck screeched to a stop.

Heart pounding, Seojun blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the unpleasant sound. He stared at the radio, still blaring with static and muffled voices.

– Help… me… here… getting out… the… cornfield… please… Aaah!

A young girl’s fear-laced voice mixed with the static. The screeching sounded both from the speakers and outside his windows, then abruptly cut off.

Seojun’s eyes widened as he stared at the radio, then glanced out the passenger window. His mouth went dry as he whispered,

“A cornfield.”

The sweet scent of the endless cornfield on his right wafted through the open window. On the left, a wide-open field stretched as far as the eye could see. In front of his truck, an old van was parked.

Under the blazing sun, the cornfield swayed like a sea of green, its leaves whispering secrets to the warm breeze. The truck’s front seat, bathed in the midday light, found solace in the cool shade. Sunbeams danced through scattered clouds, creating a mesmerizing display. Even the birds’ chirping seemed out of place, a surreal calm that clashed with the desperate pleas for help that crackled through the truck’s radio earlier. The contrast was enough to make it suspicious.

It had to be a prank from some kid, right?

Maybe it was just a twisted promotion for a new horror movie.

Or was he simply losing his mind in broad daylight?

But the frantic cries tugged at his heartstrings, stirring memories of Christina. Seojun’s rebellious spirit surged with determination, reigniting the fire in his weary eye.

The image of the selfless woman, ready to risk everything for others, was seared into his mind. He finally understood the weight of shame. If he couldn’t recognize it after witnessing such bravery that night, he’d either be the world’s biggest idiot or have some serious mental issues.

Seojun knew he’d been selfish in the past, and that selfishness had seeped deep into his bones. He couldn’t even dream of matching Christina’s noble spirit. How could he, a mere commoner, dare to follow in the footsteps of someone so saintly, someone who deserved nothing but praise and admiration?

Yet, her example sparked something within him. An idea took shape: this could be his chance to walk in Christina’s shoes, an opportunity to selflessly help a child in need. It wasn’t about doing the impossible. Seojun pocketed his phone, stepped out of the car, and onto the sizzling asphalt. The heat from the afternoon sun rose in shimmering waves, and the humid air and bright sunlight warmed his eyelids, but he pushed forward, determined to make a difference.

Seojun’s scowl deepened as he surveyed the desolate landscape, the only company a distant scarecrow swaying in the breeze, its head bobbing above the tall cornstalks. His gaze fell on a rusted, weathered sign half-buried in the parched earth at the edge of the road. The faded white paint made the words barely legible.

He hesitated, his sneakers rooted to the dusty ground. The eerie silence hung heavy in the air, once alive with the buzzing of insects and chirping of birds, but now still. Moistening his parched lips, Seojun murmured the words on the sign:

“Warning. Do not enter….”

A shiver ran down his spine at the ominous warning. Despite the unease, he steeled himself, pushing aside the premonitions. He didn’t know what the future held in store for him now. Besides, the sight of the weathered warning sign brought back memories he’d rather forget. It was natural for his thoughts to drift towards the negative, but he forced himself to focus on the present. Seojun removed his jacket and tied it around his waist, trying to ignore the midday heat. With a deep breath, he swallowed the lump in his dry throat, mustering his courage.

The sun hung high overhead, casting long shadows across the cornfield. There was nothing to fear. With a final glance back at his truck, Seojun’s lanky figure stepped into the sea of swaying cornstalks.

As he disappeared from view, the countryside’s silence enveloped the left behind truck. But then, after some time had passed, distorted cheerful country music began playing from the radio once more. The lively singing mingled with the hot, blood-scented wind that picked up again. The keychain on his rearview mirror swayed in the breeze. It was a cute fluffy bear no larger than his palm.