Scare House, Chapter 1

Jeffrey sat under the glaring yellow lights and applied foundation and black mascara. He added three sixes under both eyes and an upside-down cross on his forehead for the finishing touches. He had dyed his hair green a while back and was pleased to see that it was only just beginning to lose its integrity. He would be back to his normal jet-black hair by Thanksgiving. 

He walked up to the third floor, but Houston was hot and stuffy, so he opened a giant window with some effort to allow airflow. He had decorated a lot of the room himself, though it was mostly in disarray since the Halloween guests had run through lots of the cobwebs, stepped on his Ouija board multiple times, and tracked plenty of dirt that he hadn't bothered to sweep up. It was the last night, he figured. He didn't need to go all out anymore. He reflected on how he had scared one smoking hot chick to where her titties bounced in the air as she screamed. He always liked to stand in the corner where the moonlight couldn't penetrate and jump out to scare his guests when they least expected it. He had mastered surprising them and could almost calculate where they would jump and whether he would need to touch them for full dramatic effect. Usually, his surprise appearance was enough. 

The bell rang, which meant all the waivers had been signed, and the "full contact haunted house" was a go. After a few minutes, he started hearing the familiar screams from downstairs. He responded to one last IG message from a girl he was barely interested in and turned off his phone. Time to get fully into character. He styled himself after the Satanic priests he'd read about online. These Satanists would steal the Eucharist from churches to desecrate it. He had asked the house manager to provide a realistic, occult altar but had to make do with a wooden bench two college interns had hauled upstairs, sweating and complaining the whole way. He had decorated it as best he could with tall candles, a cauldron with a real-looking human leg sticking out, and a prop knife he had painted to look bloody. Was cannibalism part of Satanism? Not canonically, but he was proud of his creative liberties. 

He heard steps outside and positioned himself by the window. He saw his first guests come in, admiring the altar. Then he heard the same Ouija board conversation he heard every time. It was amazing how programmed people were. 

"Broooo look at this ouija board."

"Oh my god, I remember wanting one as a kid, but my mom wouldn't let me."

"Dude, same. Remember The Exorcist?"

And on and on it went until they made their way towards the window. Jeffrey jumped out, yelling, "Beware the mark of the beast". Both guys were appropriately scared, jumped back and ran out screaming. Jeffrey allowed himself to break character and pat himself on the back. 

Several more guests came through, and he successfully frightened them, and finally, a larger group entered. It was three couples. They were wearing the "no touch pass" bracelets, but Jeffrey tended to see this as an opportunity rather than a strict rule. 

The couples seemed unimpressed. One guy in particular blew out one of the candles and said, "Wow, budget cuts, huh. Can't even get a real knife."

Jeffrey clocked him as his scare target and waited for him to get close to the window. He was the last guy to explore the area, and Jeffrey jumped out and yelled as loud as he could, "Beware the mark of the beast". He added a small tap on the man's back to really sell it. This was a mistake. 

"I'm a no-contact visitor!" he yelled, shoving Jeffrey. 

Jeffrey fell backward and tripped on the edge of the window. He plummeted. He felt his fall broken by a tree limb before he completely lost consciousness. 

To be continued

Jeffrey woke up. He was in a well-lit room, and his head was slightly elevated on a pillow. He could not see too well because a bright light was shining directly in his eyes. He tried to look down to his toes and explore the room and found, to his astonishment, that his neck, back, and elbows would not obey him. He panicked. He felt himself take a shallow breath and saw his mom and sister looking down at him. 

"He's awake!" said his mom. "Nurse, we need the nurse!"

The nurse walked in, and Jeffrey heard her get rid of his family members. From the corner of his eye, he could see her pull out a skeleton diagram, and she said something about "C5 and C6" and showed him the picture more closely. He could see a break in his spine near the neck. The next words would be the last he would pay attention to: "complete paralysis". 

She kept talking, but he felt tears well up in his eyes. She dabbed his eyes with a cloth, and he heard a ringing. He shut his eyes, begging himself to fall asleep again. 

Complete paralysis. How was this happening? He tried to force movement anywhere. His toes. His fingers, his knees. He could feel energy going to those regions but could not see any change. He tried hard to imagine his fingers forming a fist. He tried to remember how it felt to ball his hands up as if conjuring the memory would create fists. No luck. He could still move his eyes. He could still breathe. 

He tried to talk. He felt air come out, and a sound like a wheeze escaped his lips. 

The nurse seemed to understand what he wanted and said, "Rest your voice. You will be able to talk eventually, but for now, you need to rest. You did severe damage to your upper spine, and speech will come back gradually."

Her pitying tone infuriated him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to die. His frantic heartbeat made him sweat, but he couldn't wipe it from his forehead. He tried to swallow. Those muscles seemed to operate in slow motion, and for a horrifying second, he felt a sensation like choking. With an extra effort, he worked his throat muscles through the swallow. He decided to just start pushing saliva out of his mouth with his tongue and lips, which seemed to work okay. He was relieved that he could twitch his nose and wiggle his ears. He wanted to scratch an itch right on his eyelid, and his inability to scratch it was beyond infuriating.

He managed to close his eyes while the nurse was talking. By squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could, he partially relieved his itch. She looked at his arm and made some adjustments out of his line of sight, shut off the light, and left. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was her telling his family he needed some alone time.