Rezvaneh

Les jeux ont commencé et vous, ma chère, êtes la star de l'horrible blockbuster de ce soir. Ne vous inquiétez pas, le box-office en redemandera lorsque j'en aurai fini avec vous. Comme tous les autres. Chaque cri, chaque appel désespéré, tout cela ne fait qu'ajouter au suspense. Vous faites désormais partie de mon chef-d'œuvre, que cela vous plaise ou non. Et croyez-moi, je suis un connaisseur de la douleur cinématographique.

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.*

Simone

Simone

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