Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

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Act 1: Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

There was a time when Independence Day meant August 15th¹T/N: The National Liberation Day of Korea, also known as Gwangbokjeol, is a holiday celebrated annually on August 15 in both South and North Korea. It commemorates Victory over Japan Day, which marked the end of World War II and the Japanese colonial rule of Korea that lasted from 1910 to 1945. to Seojun, not July 4th. Back then, his family name was different, but his first name—Seojun—stayed the same.

He found himself standing at a railway crossing, idly swinging a black plastic bag around his fingers while the pedestrian signal stubbornly glowed red. Videotapes inside the bag clinked together. Bored with his empty hands, he pulled out a cigarette. Without a lighter, he couldn’t smoke it, but he chewed on it for a bit of amusement.

Seojun was what you would call a horror movie fanatic. However, he wasn’t interested in the sophisticated and costly CGI that emulated reality. What truly made his heart pound were the campy splatters of fake blood, plastic bones, and the raw, over-the-top screams from actors.

This peculiar taste made Seojun a regular at the local video rental shop. The videos tucked away in dusty corners offered him a couple of satisfying hours of entertainment.

“The Murderer of the Bloody Lake” was no exception.

The video case was practically screaming with chaotic phrases inked in blood-red letters. It was clear that the movie lacked more than just budget—it lacked taste.

Even though silent films were a thing of the past, the director stubbornly chose to use black-and-white footage. Had it been a masterpiece, this might have been seen as a brilliant artistic choice. But the grainy image, sloppy acting, dismal set, and awkward dialogue were all laughably bad. The plot was so absurd that it even felt like a fever dream.

The protagonist, ‘Christina,’ was a pretty, modestly dressed student who shared a subtle, almost romantic relationship with her school’s handsome quarterback. Her sultry cheerleader friend was dating a muscular, bald guy. Lurking behind this ensemble was a feeble fool tailing them. This group of five naively embarked on a trip to a campsite, oblivious to the man-eating monster lurking within the site’s lake.

Can you believe a man-eating monster, not even hinted at in the title, suddenly makes an appearance? “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake” achieved just that, transforming from a slasher flick to a monster movie in the blink of an eye. 

Had it been well executed, this switcheroo might have been effective, but the poorly crafted puppet monster induced more laughter than screams. And after the monster’s rampage, what terror could a mere lake murderer instill? Even a ‘dead’ body twitching its arm after the camera had panned away was regarded as a minor flaw in the grand scheme of “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake.”

The true horror, however, was in the post-credits interview with the film’s production team. The director, in a baffling attempt to explain his motivations and inspirations, didn’t let viewers marinate in the lingering aftermath of his movie—no matter how mediocre it was. He rambled on about his hometown’s Red Lake campsite, the real-world setting for the movie.

Of course, Seojun had zero interest in a campsite located in some remote place in America, so he turned it off midway.

The film’s only saving grace was the captivating female lead, who the director had allegedly recruited through personal connections. She was an unknown actress, yet incredibly attractive. Despite her acting skills being rather lacking, there was a particularly memorable scene in which her dark hair clung damply to her tear-streaked face as her mouth opened in a breath-stealing scream.

As Seojun recalled the frequent close-ups of the lead actress, ‘Christina,’ he began to stroll forward.

In any case, the movie was a total disaster. As lofty as the director’s ambitions were, the film only lasted a week in theaters before being banished to a neglected corner of a rental shop. Now, it was just junk touched by oddball enthusiasts like Seojun. Unless it was implicated in some bizarre incident, it seemed destined to be forgotten.

Even Seojun, with his low standards, felt an overwhelming urge to wash his eyes clean of the spectacle. After returning the videotape, he intended to rent a few critically acclaimed movies.

The traffic light changed to green, and Seojun ambled forward at a relaxed pace.

He was relishing the bitter sting of the unlit cigarette on his tongue when a grating noise echoed through the air. Bright headlights bathed him in light, and he locked eyes with a truck driver wearing an expression of sheer terror.

Ah!

Seojun’s brief scream was strangled, lodged in his throat. His body was hurled into the air, spinning aimlessly. The world around him fell silent, except for the shrill buzzing that filled his ears. Pain, raw and relentless, shot through his entire being.

Through his blood-smeared, blurry vision, he caught sight of a videotape as it ejected from his ruptured black bag, its once pristine surface now marred with his blood.

And just like that, it was over. Death swept Seojun away before he could make sense of his demise.

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In a strange twist of fate, Seojun was reborn into a third-generation immigrant family chasing the elusive American Dream.

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At first, I was thrilled, thinking I’d been granted a second chance at life.

Seojun grumbled as he managed the fast-selling Pound Milk featuring Bobby. Logically, nobody in his situation would first jump to the idea of spirit possession.

His new life began in New York City, the metropolis humming with relentless ambition and desire. His young mind retained no memory of his previous life.

This was no surprise, considering that the moment a child forms their identity can vary widely. For Seojun, self-realization struck around the age of six. Secured in his car seat, the sight of the ‘Welcome to Wraithwood Warren’ sign triggered an uncanny sensation, as if a spectral finger had slid down his spine. His chubby cheeks trembled as his teddy bear slipped from his fingers.

His parents dismissed his reactions as mere childish whimsy or perhaps a simple curiosity about their new home. At the tender age of six, Seojun found himself painstakingly piecing together memory fragments from his past life, scolding himself for his excessive paranoia.

Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the shock he felt upon meeting the girl who lived across from his new home. She was a lovely child who was two years younger than him. Coaxed by their parents to foster neighborly relations, Seojun toddled over to greet her, overcome with a wave of despair.

The child’s name was Christina Toolbox.

Without a doubt, she was the female lead in “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake”.

Has it already been 14 years? Seojun wondered.

He did his best to keep his distance. They lived close by, so inevitably, there were times when they had to interact. Fortunately, Seojun and Christina maintained a cordial relationship. But her unnerving resemblance to the actress from his memory sent shivers down his spine, a sinister reminder that the real horror was closer than he imagined.

But the true terror didn’t stop there. From time to time, vivid yet fleeting hallucinations would flash before his eyes, leading Seojun into the depths of severe insomnia. It wasn’t until his teenage years that he began to unravel the truth behind these supposed hallucinations and delusions.

A shattered teacup, a stolen letter, a broken bicycle…

To his growing horror, Seojun realized that these visions weren’t mere signs of a mental disorder but actual premonitions. At the same time, he also understood his role.

He was the prophet in “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake”, a minor character who spoke foreboding prophecies wrapped in the guise of curses. This understanding shattered his composure like a lightning bolt.

This wasn’t reincarnation. It was possession!

He had been reborn into the prophet’s character from a horror movie. Realizing his role, Seojun struggled to accept this truth. After all, anyone would be desperate to escape if their cozy neighborhood was prophesied to be the stage of a gruesome massacre.

I even tried to leave Wraithwood Warren once.

However, the magnetic pull of the plot held him captive.

When the grim truth of Wraithwood Warren dawned on him, Seojun became desperate, his pleas to his parents verging on hysterics.

However, his parents, who loved their son deeply, prevented Seojun from setting even a single foot outside Wraithwood Warren. Even begging to visit his generous uncle, who showered him with gifts every Christmas, proved futile. The fear and desperation in his parents’ eyes still haunted him.

Their gaze served as an unspoken warning. He was a prisoner in Wraithwood Warren until his role was seen to completion. His mother’s nails digging painfully into his arm, his father’s fiery gaze as they locked him away—both binding Seojun to his fate with invisible chains.

“But all of that ends today.”

His thin lips moved, and his hoarse whisper gently permeated the silent convenience store. It was the 4th of July, a day notorious for incidents in horror movies. Right on cue, Christina and her friends had just set off for the campground.

A cruel day awaited them. But why should that matter to Seojun? He was inherently selfish. He stood by, unmoved by the suffering that was soon to befall these individuals who were somewhat more than strangers but less than friends. All he did was toss around absurd predictions cloaked as warnings.

His lips trembled, his gloves damp with nervous sweat. He was determined to steer clear of the unforgiving survival landscape of a horror movie, even if it meant severing ties with Christina, his childhood friend.

His recollection of the other characters, aside from Christina, was fuzzy at best. However, the striking group of five people he encountered today matched the character lineup from the movie.

Quarterback Johan, cheerleader Airi with her boyfriend William, and last but not least, Bobby.

Christina and her friends’ future was all too clear. They’d gather around a campfire, with Bobby lightening the mood with his stupid jokes, while the tantalizing aroma of barbecued food mingled with the fresh scent of the lake. Oblivious to what might lurk beneath the lake’s surface…

And then there were Airi and William – the quintessential horror movie couple – typically meeting a gruesome end in some dimly lit forest.

“Ugh…”

Seojun shook his head, unable to hide his gloomy expression. As he sighed, his long, black hair rustled against his forehead. There was no changing what was to come.

Just look at them, choosing to visit the campsite on Independence Day of all days. The magnetic pull of the movie’s narrative was undeniable. The world was bound to follow its own script, and the main characters were doomed to face a terrifying day ahead.

It’s pitiful, but what can I do?

Sympathy is one thing, but reality is another. Seojun’s fingers idly traced over the dimpled surface of lemons piled on the counter. It was a moment to rejoice, having finished his seemingly insignificant role. With a lighter heart, he allowed himself to dream of the future. It was a genuine yearning, unlike the hallucinations that typically clouded his vision.

I should buy a truck. He hummed to himself, picturing a sleek, sturdy four-wheeler. The plan was simple: buy a truck, wave goodbye to this dreadful town, and hit the open road. The trauma of being struck by a truck had long been cast aside. After all, living in a world where a horror movie scenario could bleed into reality at any moment made swallowing the bitter pill of mundane calamities like traffic accidents a tad easier.