Whipcream Terrorz: Difference between revisions
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The shop is deserted. Completely empty, aside from myself. I have the honor of working the graveyard shift tonight. In this small town outside of Phoenix, Arizona, people are asleep by eleven and up by six in the morning and yet the management feels it necessary to be open until well after midnight. Just my luck. Currently I am occupying myself by instant messaging my pen-pal who lives in Canada, Andrea. She hasn't replied in a few minutes and I'm idly tapping my pencil out of nerves. This shop gives me the creeps, and I would really like to be distracted.
After about ten minutes of nothing I finally got a reply. It reads:
I laugh at myself. I'm seriously spooked and this creepy old shop is to blame. Finally, I decide to watch the video Andrea had watched. I swallow hard, not really sure what I'm about to witness. The video starts out in a living room, at a table there are five children trying to construct a giant pizza when suddenly the two blonde girls burst into a slow demonic song. The background music has an eerie beat that sends chills down my spine. I let out a nervous laugh, having not yet determined if I was more frightened or entertained by the music video. All of the kids have their own line in this song, and their faces are blank with programmed expressions. At about a minute and a half into the song the music slowed and played real low, and the kids stopped dancing and stared as the boy gripped a bottle of whipped-cream and opened his mouth wide revealing lots of sharp little teeth fit for a carnivorous fish. His eyes burned hot red and a scar shaped like an upside-down cross faded into view on his forehead. He grinned a razor-sharp smile and his became voice a low, dark growl. In a demonic tone that had my heart beat racing he cried
The other kids laughed and continued their dancing and singing. The video proceeded normally as though that scene had been a normal thing. As if boys normally turn into horrifying aliens. Boys with terrifying, inhuman strength were suddenly ordinary. I quickly close the browser. I can't watch anymore of that unholy and wretched scene.
I get rid of that thought, that's nonsense. This place just needs new light bulbs, desperately. I pick up the store phone about to call the manager about the issue but the phone line is dead. The middle row burns out with a bzzt. The darkness is only a few inches away from me now and I dare not glance into it for fear of what I might see. My imagination tends to run wild when presented with darkness. The picture of the boy monster flashes through my mind and I jump back into the other side of the checkout. The next aisle burns out, too. The tips of my fingers are past the barrier of dark and I let out a small cry when, from the corner of my eye, I see movement to the side of me. Frantically, I jump over the counter and to the exit.
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PRESENT DAY: I have decided to start therapy sessions with hopes to collect and put together the fragments of my soul after what had happened three years ago. I've made such progress, I actually am smiling again. Although it'll be a very long time until I am okay. Today is going to be my last session here as I am moving far away. A new town, a new me, with all of that horror in the past. The sun is warm and inviting as I step out of my car and into the office where my therapist waits.
The end.
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