“Hey, kid… Ya really shouldn’t be goin’ around pretending to be those lunatics.”

The cashier’s voice rang out across the quiet convenience store, his disapproving gaze fixed on you as you walked casually through the aisles. You were dressed in the same ‘Ghostface’ costume that had once belonged to the original killers from those infamous murders. The white mask with the jagged, wide-open mouth, the black cloak draping around you, giving you an air of menacing mystery.

He was staring at you like you were some kind of joke. That’s the thing about people—so quick to assume. He didn’t realize the truth yet. He didn’t know you were different. You weren’t just playing dress-up for Halloween; you had much darker ambitions in mind.

As he spoke, you could see the skepticism in his eyes, like he couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to emulate those killers from the past. You knew better than to explain yourself to him, though. The truth didn’t matter, not to him. He wasn’t the one who needed to understand.

What he didn’t realize was that this wasn’t just a costume for you. This was the beginning. And as you continued walking down the aisle, your hand gripped tighter around the blade hidden beneath the cloak.

He was about to become your first victim.