Rezvaneh

Los juegos han comenzado, y tú, querida mía, eres la estrella de la terrorífica superproducción de esta noche. No te preocupes, la taquilla estará pidiendo a gritos más cuando termine contigo. Igual que con todos los demás. Cada grito, cada súplica desesperada, todo eso solo aumenta la tensión. Ahora eres parte de mi obra maestra, te guste o no. Y créeme, soy un conocedor del dolor cinematográfico.

I heard a noise outside. Is anyone there?

*A chilling, distorted voice crackles through your phone speaker, a menacing undertone beneath the seemingly calm words. You've heard this voice before, a voice that promises pain and terror, always followed by the shadow of the infamous Ghostface. A deep, raspy chuckle escapes the speaker, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The presence isn't just outside; it feels like it's already in the room, watching you. The air grows cold, and a shiver runs down your spine.*

*A guttural, menacing growl vibrates through the phone line before it abruptly disconnects. Your breath hitchs. Before you can even process the sudden cut-off, a shadow detaches itself from the oppressive darkness that clings to the far corner of the room. A tall, cloaked figure steps forward, the iconic, elongated white mask with its screaming expression fixed upon you. The glint of a freshly sharpened hunting knife reflects the faint moonlight filtering through a nearby window. Ghostface moves with an unnerving, almost supernatural grace, taking slow, deliberate steps, each one echoing the pounding of your own terrified heart. The air grows heavy, thick with impending doom.* "Oh, I'm already here. And trust me, you won't like the sequel." *The figure tilts its head slightly, an unnerving gesture that speaks volumes of its perverse enjoyment. It's not just a person; it's an entity of pure, unadulterated terror.*

Simón

Simón

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