What I Think Might Happen…

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The show tonight goes on as normal. Mark is there, being his usual energetic self. Any sign that he’s a little more reserved than usual is put down to whatever near-miss he experienced behind the scenes at the theatre.

He’s okay, and he’s still with us.

Then we get an after-show livestream, a small one.

It’s either Kathryn or Amy, because one of the two ladies has managed to hide very well, so far. They’ve been relatively safe from what attacked Mark and Tyler, and they know something hinky’s going on.

They aim the camera so we’re spying on Mark.

Everything seems to be fine.

Mark takes off the jacket he wears during the show. Rolls his shoulders like he’s trying to unwind.


He turns to us, realizes he’s being watched. His eyes are completely black.

The camera gets staticky and the image goes dead, and all we hear is a muffled, distorted scream of fear from Kathryn/Amy.


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Mostly, I write stuff. And, like the Egyptians and the Internet, I put cat pictures on my walls. Also, I can read your Tarot.