One late night at a bus stop, you found a birthday invitation stuck in an abandoned book. Someone before you must’ve left it on accident.

“You’re invited to our bloody birthday party.

Sometimes, walking down the deadly path Without fleeing from death itself Can give rise to the most wondrous creation.

We hope you will be able to come.”

Below was listed an address, a date, and a time.

There’s no harm, you thought. Just a birthday party to crash. You needed some fun anyway.

The party seemed pretty average, a loud celebration with drinks and party streamers, silver confetti and balloons. It was fun, and you found yourself mingling with some of the actual guests there, having a good time.

As the party continued, you found yourself wondering who it was for. You hadn’t seen any person that seemed to be the main attraction.

People there were a bit strange, and you decided to take a moment to yourself, thinking you needed a minute to sober up. The red spiked punch was really good.

You sat on a couch in a vacant rook further into the house, away from the party. You tipped your head back as the rim of the water bottle pressed against your lips.

As you set the water bottle down and was going to bring your hand up to your face, pain blossomed on your outer part of it. You winced, seeing the sharp glass work that sat on the side table. Blood immediately ran down the side of your hand.

You grabbed a tissue, trying to stop the bleeding, but after a minute or two, someone appeared in the doorway, eyeing you. You got worried it was the host, looking for people that were places they weren’t meant to be.

He smirked slightly, tilting his head as he entered the room. After a minute, a few more came filing in. It total, there was seven.

They approached, chatting with each other. The one who first came spoke, leaning closer to you.

“What are you doing there?” He asked, his voice hypnotizingly soft and subtle.

He eyed the cut on your hand, and if you looked close enough, you’d see his pupils dilated slightly.