Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie
#097
Trigger Warning Self-harm/Suicide: This content may contain scenes or discussion about self-harm or suicide, which could be disturbing for some people.
#097
Tim’s words were followed by a low rumble of thunder that shook the earth. The sky, already a deep, bruised purple, darkened further, as if the last of the light was being snuffed out by an ominous cloud cover. The only thing that pierced the gathering gloom was the truck’s headlights, casting an unearthly glow over the desolate road.
“Man, it’s getting freakin’ dark out here.” Tim muttered under his breath.
Seojun nodded in agreement, wondering if he should step on the gas. “Yeah, if it starts raining, it’ll be a real challenge to see where we’re going.”
A sly smile flickered across Tim’s face, the only part of him visible in the deepening shadows. “Perfect setting for a ghost story, don’t you think?” His voice had a strange, hollow quality to it, making Seojun wonder if Tim was just being his usual, laid-back self or trying to unsettle him on purpose.
The wind howled around the blue truck like a pack of wolves, making it hard to hear anything else. Tim leaned forward, his voice a low murmur against the storm, as he began to share the tale.
“His name was Timothy. Some say he was cursed from birth, bad luck his constant companion. He was the kid bullies loved to torment, the punchline to every joke. His weird hobbies only fueled their cruelty. But Timothy clung to a sliver of hope, convinced graduation would be his salvation. Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. The day he was supposed to cross that stage into a brighter future, his parents were killed in a car crash on their way to see him graduate. And so began Timothy’s descent into a life marred by misfortune…”
Misfortune wasn’t just Timothy’s shadow; it was a ravenous beast snapping at his heels. College didn’t work out, and he dropped out after a year. The dead-end job he landed went bankrupt, leaving him penniless and owed three months’ pay. Even his girlfriend, drawn to him by either pity or a twisted attraction to misery, abandoned him for someone even lower on the food chain.
Timothy gazed into the empty abyss of his life, and the void stared back. The realization slammed into him like a physical blow – he had nothing left. He knew, logically, that others had it worse, but that rationalization offered no comfort. It only intensified the bone-aching weariness and hollow ache that consumed him.
“Dumped, broke, and utterly hopeless,“ Tim’s voice continued. “That’s when Timothy reached his breaking point. Despair wrapped its icy fingers around him, snuffing out the last flicker of hope. Like a carefully constructed house of cards collapsing in on itself, his will to live crumbled. And that’s when Timothy saw only one way out.“
“Damn…” Seojun muttered, but he just couldn’t muster up any sympathy for the desperation in Timothy’s eyes.
He had his health, didn’t he? It wasn’t like he was buried in debt or anything. What’s there to be so torn up about?
Having been through his fair share of tough times, Seojun wasn’t one to sympathize easily. His gut reaction to Timothy’s weakness was disdain, and his interest in the story dwindled. Honestly, he was already struggling to understand the hitchhiker’s weird obsession with the supernatural. And now this? Seojun couldn’t help but think that Tim would be better off exploring Wraithwood than chasing ghosts.
I ran away from home to get away from all that stuff, but…
“So, when Timothy decided to kill himself, he went for the classic method – slitting his wrists. He took a sharp razor to one of them, cutting deep. Then he plunged it into a bathtub filled with scalding hot water. Crimson blood swirls danced in the water like some macabre ballet… but he passed out before the final curtain.“
“But he didn’t actually die there, right?”
Seojun’s mind flashed back to Tim’s earlier comment about the unlucky hitchhiker who supposedly met his end on this very road. If Timothy had succeeded in killing himself, there wouldn’t be a ghost story to tell. As if on cue, Tim nodded enthusiastically, a disturbing eagerness creeping into his voice.
“Bingo. Timothy didn’t kick the bucket just yet. In a bizarre twist, a fire broke out in the next room – flames engulfing the walls, sirens wailing, people freaking out like ants under a magnifying glass. Total pandemonium. Amidst the chaos, Timothy was rescued along with everyone else, almost by accident. He thought, maybe, it was for the better. After all, going up in flames wasn’t exactly the peaceful death he’d envisioned.”
Seojun’s face twisted into a grimace.
“So, for his second attempt, Timothy went for the icy grip of a lake. A deep, secluded one, where his life could slowly slip away beneath the freezing water. A picturesque winter scene for a perfect ending. He bound his feet together, the rope biting into his skin, and plunged into the icy depths. The shock of the cold, the excruciating pain that wracked his body… surely, this time, death would finally take him.”
“And… how did he manage to get out of that one?”
Of course, Timothy hadn’t died there. A wry smile appeared on Tim’s lips, and for a fleeting moment, something unsettling flickered in his eyes. He raised his right hand, mimicking the action of tying something around his left wrist. His sleeve slid down, revealing a glimpse of a long, jagged red scar on his pale skin. Seojun leaned in, curiosity getting the better of him, but Tim swiftly clasped his hands together, hiding the mark behind his backpack.
“Fishermen,“ Tim whispered. “They pulled him out of the lake, saving his life but ruining his plans.”
Timothy couldn’t catch a break, even when he was actively seeking one. Each botched suicide attempt only added to his despair. He’d jumped off a cliff, only to bounce onto some poor hiker’s tent. The pills he’d bought with the promise of a painless exit turned out to be nothing more than pricey vitamins. And when he finally mustered the courage to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger, the damn thing jammed.
Sick of the dramatic failures, Timothy decided to take a simpler approach. He found a deserted road that seemed to scream “wrong turn” or “horror movie waiting to happen,” parked his car, and slipped into the dark forest.
He walked deeper into the woods, the distance meaningless, his mind consumed by a single obsession… Vines snagged his feet, sending him crashing to the ground. A jagged rock gouged his knee, and blood began to seep out, but the pain barely registered. Nothing was going to stop him now.
Then, it emerged from the underbrush—a twisted, ancient tree that seemed to beckon him. Its bark was smothered in a thick layer of dark green moss, and the tortured face etched into the wood appeared to be screaming in silence. Timothy knew, with a deep certainty, that this was the one. This was the tree that would finally bring an end to his torment.
With shaking hands, he rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a rope, which he tossed over a sturdy branch. He gave it a rough tug, the branch creaking in protest, but the rope held fast. Timothy had always been skinny, so even if he managed to hang himself, the branch should be able to bear his weight.
A bitter smile twisted his lips. This time, he was certain—this was his final curtain.
Timothy climbed onto a large rock, his heart racing as he cinched the noose around his neck. One step off the edge, and it would all be over. The pain, the despair, the crushing cycle of failure—gone.
“…But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in ominous shades of blood red and deep purple, Timothy remained frozen, his feet rooted to the rock.”
Seojun mentally clicked his tongue. It was obvious what had happened. The guy had chickened out, too afraid to follow through. But despite his initial impulse to ridicule Timothy’s cowardice, a spark of empathy flared up within him. He slapped on a fake smile and injected some forced enthusiasm into his voice.
“So, did Timothy just turn back then?”
“Yeah, he totally did. In that moment, Timothy decided to give life his best shot. Failing at suicide gave him this weird sense of purpose, like, ‘Hey, maybe I’m meant to stick around after all.‘“
“Well, that’s a good attitude to have. Everyone should try to stay positive and—”
Seojun’s words were abruptly cut off as the truck lurched violently, the sickening crunch of something hitting the tires making Seojun’s stomach flip. He gripped the wheel tightly, swerving to a stop as his face went from pale to ghostly white. He clapped a hand over his mouth, biting back a string of curses.
Seojun stared at the rearview mirror, where the mangled remains of a crow stared back at him. The poor bird’s sleek feathers were now a bloody, matted mess, its body crushed beyond recognition by the truck’s tires. The sight left Seojun feeling queasy and shaken.
The dense forest alongside the road was a haven for birds, but the mangled crow, its life brutally cut short, made Seojun’s palms grow clammy. He’d been only half-paying attention to Tim’s story, his mind clearly elsewhere. Tim, too, caught sight of the pitiful scene and let out a heavy sigh.
“Yeah, lots of crows around here, huh…?”
Seojun just nodded, no words coming to mind. The silence hung in the air for a beat before Tim continued.
“Anyway, right after Timothy decided to live, he stepped out onto this road and saw a dead crow. Just like that one.”
“Not exactly a welcome sight,” Seojun muttered, the gloomy words slipping out before he could catch himself. Tim chuckled softly, his awkward laughter was jarring in the somber atmosphere, making Seojun’s heart skip a beat.
“You’re not wrong,” Tim said, his eyes taking on a distant glaze. “But to Timothy, it was a strange work of art. A still life, crafted just for him. The first thing he saw after deciding to live was a creature that had died senselessly, violently. It seemed… symbolic.”
Tim’s voice rose to a fevered pitch, his words tumbling out in a rush. “And so it was. Timothy, driven by his newfound will to live, stumbles onto a path shrouded in darkness. He’d entered the forest under the sun’s watchful eye, but now night had fallen, leaving him lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. Exhausted, disoriented, Timothy had no idea how he’d ever find his way back. But then, a glimmer of light in the distance – a car was approaching!”
A smile spread across Tim’s face, but it was more like a gruesome grimace, devoid of any warmth. It was a chilling, unhinged grin that settled over Seojun like a sense of foreboding. For a moment, Seojun wondered if Tim was channeling some dark joy from his story, or if he was just really getting into character. But as the tale careened towards its climax, Seojun kept his doubts to himself.
“The night had turned into a suffocating shroud, engulfing everything in darkness,” Tim continued, his voice low and hypnotic. “Not even the stars dared to twinkle. Can you imagine how those headlights must’ve looked to Timothy, stumbling blindly down that deserted road? A beacon of hope piercing the void, like a last-gasp lifeline.”
“He squinted against the sudden glare,” Tim continued, “but still waved his arms like a crazy person, desperate to be seen. And the saddest part? He never shouted for the car to stop.”
“Why not?“
Seojun frowned, trying to stay focused on the story and not think about the spare tire he had in his truck. His mind was wandering to the hassle of changing it.
Ugh, it’s in the back of the truck.
He was already dreading the task. He forced himself to refocus on Tim’s story, hoping it would take his mind off the looming chore. The sky had darkened to an murky shade of black, and Tim’s eyes seemed to gleam with an unsettling intensity, like maroon embers in the dark. As they drove on, the truck’s headlights pierced the darkness, making Seojun feel like they were reliving Timothy’s story.
“See, after standing there with that noose digging into his neck for so long, his throat was raw and swollen. All he could manage was this awful, raspy croak. Poor guy had no idea the driver’s visibility was just as bad as his own.”
Seojun felt an unexpected connection to Timothy, this tragic figure from a ghost story. Maybe it was because he was about to hear how his past life came to a brutal end.
Tim leaned in, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “It happened in a flash. The driver, exhausted and bleary-eyed, didn’t even see those pale legs until they were illuminated in the headlights. No time to react. Timothy hit the bumper head-on, his body crumpling and flung like a rag doll.”
Seojun’s stomach twisted with unease, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road as Tim described the horrific scene.
“He died on impact. His body rolled a few times before coming to rest face-down on the asphalt, with nasty gashes on the back of his neck. Blood seeped out onto the road, matting his hair. The driver, still in shock, grabbed Timothy by the ankle and dragged him off the road. The skin tore, blood smeared, leaving a trail of scarlet on the asphalt. With only a dead crow as witness, the driver dumped the body in the woods and took off into the night.”
Tim’s voice made Seojun’s heart race with a creeping sense of fear, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The words lingered in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to let him go.
Only a dead crow as witness…
“They say Timothy’s ghost still haunts this stretch of road, looking for rides and peering into drivers’ windows, searching for the one who left him broken and abandoned. And when he finds them… he’ll make them pay, one way or another.”