Alma Delmar’s Scenario
October 31, 2005. A hooded monster with an axe walked into an unsupervised high school classroom, highlighting the date on the chalkboard with blood.
After that Halloween tragedy, my mind was reduced to a barren landscape. As days passed, it started to flood with my tears. It didn’t take long for the pieces of my classmates to wash up. Their blood painted the sky, and their screaming agony remained trapped in the thick air.
My flooding mindscape also became occupied by an axe-wielding, one-eyed maniac. Framed with severe scoliosis, his nude, genital-less body had been sloppily stitched together at many seams where various skin tones met. His swollen face had been molded by the uncaring hands of depression, in a way that forced a permanent frown on his gray facial complexion. He called himself “Stitched Ed.”
He never tired of tormenting me under a perverted audience of dark clouds. So I kept running, even as my surroundings became fully submerged. I kept running, even as drowning and breathing became an unhealthy couple.
I was ready to give up, and I certainly would’ve, if it wasn’t for the blue and yellow orbs of light that suddenly painted the blurry distance with hope. I followed the strange lights, hoping they would one day lead me to joy.
After years of running, joy finally came into my life, in the form of a woman named Annie.
Together we built a safe haven for each other—a mental manor that sheltered me from Stitched Ed and the sight and sounds of my butchered classmates. Its interior was furnished with comforting love and rich with framed memories I’ll always cherish. I called it home for three years. I called Annie my Home for three years. Until death broke in, taking her from me and triggering a self-destruct system.
My mental manor crumbled, forcing me to live in the rubble of my own mind, surrounded by the reanimated dead and reanimated memories of Stitched Ed.
Recognizing me despite the hood shrouding my face, he stands at the far end of the main hall, greeting me with outstretched arms as I enter Orchard High School. The front doors had been left unlocked by the three men I’m going to butcher—three men that dismembered and beheaded a kind old man whose blue and yellow eyes had once guided me away from suicide.
My remaining layers of sanity are stripped off by the gripping sight of Stitched Ed crawling towards me, leaving me naked in his presence. Paralysis strokes my entire body as he stands on his crooked feet, holding onto his wooden axe like a cane.
As if on rails, Stitched Ed and déjà vu grab my hands and walk me through the building, up stairs and through halls leading to that exact classroom. Clocks are ticking around me, loudly like machine gun fire.
The kids seated inside… are all Stitched Ed. Each and every one of them is wearing the horrible, disfigured face that had been grafted into my mind’s infected, gaping wound for years.
Gripping my axe and emotions tightly, I start to vividly relive a nightmare through the eyes of the monster. Swinging my axe wildly, I focus entirely on the date written on the chalkboard.