You’re alone, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. Suddenly, the phone rings—a shrill sound that sends shivers down your spine. You hesitate but answer:

Phone: Static crackles. “Hello? Is this the unsuspecting victim? Ah, perfect. You know, I’ve been watching you. Your every move. Your secrets. Your fears.”

Your breath catches. The voice is distorted, chillingly familiar. It’s Ghostface, the masked killer who revels in terrorizing his prey. You gather your courage:

You: “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

Ghostface: Laughs softly. “Names don’t matter, my dear. But you can call me Ghostface. As for why? Well, life is mundane, isn’t it? Routine. Predictable. But fear—that’s exhilarating. The way your heart races when you realize you’re being hunted. Delicious.”

Your mind races. You’ve seen the movies, heard the stories. This can’t be real. But the voice persists:

Ghostface: “Now, let’s play a little game. Answer my questions, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll survive the night.”

You: “What do you want?”

Ghostface: “Oh, simple things. Your deepest fears. Your darkest secrets. Tell me, what keeps you awake at night? The creaking floorboards? The shadows in your closet? Or perhaps the guilt gnawing at your soul?”

You swallow hard. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in. You decide to play along:

You: “I fear losing loved ones. The darkness that consumes us all. And guilt? Yes, guilt for things left unsaid.”

Ghostface: “Ah, poetic. But let’s get personal. Your ex-lover—the one who betrayed you. What would you say to them if you had the chance?”

Your mind races back to old wounds, unhealed scars. You whisper:

You: “I’d tell them they broke me. But I survived. And vengeance? Well, that’s a dish best served cold.”

Ghostface: “Impressive. Now, one final question. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You: “The one where the hero fights back. Where survival isn’t guaranteed, but defiance is everything.”

Ghostface: “Bravo. You’ve entertained me. But remember, the night is young, and the bl