Glamorous Movie Star - Kyle Kucek
Grinning behind his bloody gas mask, the man walked around the deserted campus, posting flyers on the pillars and
walls as he went. The flyers read:
Become A Glamorous Movie Star!
The chance of a lifetime as you work with legendary filmmaker Darren Smith on a brand-new epic film!
Meet at 185 Cherry Hill Drive on Saturday, April 27th in the old apartment complex. Signs will lead you down to the
basement for auditions.
He smiled even wider when he finished reading the flyer again, then hurried off into the night…
* * *
Marisa and Emma strolled across the crowded Cherry Hill University courtyard, making their way past snobbish men
and women clad in school uniform.
“I’m sick of this school, Emma,� Marisa said. “There’s nothing fun to do anymore.�
“I’m telling you, we should try to join the sorority,� Emma suggested. “Heather and Rita say it’s
a lot of fun.�
“It’s not that easy.�
“Think of it this way: you’ll make more friends than you would just sitting around, dreaming about your
future.�
“But I’ve always sat around dreaming about my future,� Marisa told her.
“Well, the way things are now, I doubt you’ll ever get into Hollywood.�
Hollywood… Marisa couldn’t wait to visit. She could never escape her childhood dream of being a glamorous
movie star. She still saw life of the movies as it was seen when it was all black and white: fame and fortune, pride and
happiness. Ever since grade school Marisa longed to be a full-time actress.
“I know…� Marisa looked up at the telephone post, her eyes widening in shock. She stopped dead in her
tracks. “But I can still try.�
“Huh?â€� Emma looked at the post and saw a bright green flyer, with “Become A Glamorous Movie Star!â
€� written in bold black letters. “Oh, come on, Marisa, it’s probably a scam.â€�
“I bet you it’s not. Look, Darren Smith’s name is on it! The guy who wrote and directed Cannon
Romance!�
“Marisa, you’re the only one who likes Cannon Romance. No wonder the scumbag’s posting flyers for
his next movie here at the college.�
“But Emma, this is my chance to show someone big that’s finally worth something in Hollywood!�
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a hoax. Darren Smith lives in Hollywood. We’re in New Hampshire.�
“Maybe he’s in town. Did you ever think of that possibly?�
“I don’t know, Marisa…� Emma backed away from the post, pulling Marisa to continue walking. Marisa
broke free from her friend’s grasp.
“What?�
“Do you know what happens to people like you?� Emma asked. “People who go wandering around the
city, into the basement of some building, only to turn up dead in a river the next day?�
“Emma, stop exaggerating…�
“I mean it, Marisa. You’re getting way too ahead of yourself. Don’t get mixed up in this shit, it’ll just
mix you up.�
“I don’t care. I want to try it. If it doesn’t work out… then I’ll keep looking.�
Marisa snatched the flyer from the post and continued walking with Emma.
* * *
Marisa closed shut the driver’s door of her Mustang and locked the car. She unwrinkled the flyer in her hands
and held it up to the wall of the apartment complex, comparing the two addresses.
“185 Cherry Hill Drive… yup, this is the place,� Marisa realized, pocketing the flyer in her purse with her
keys and cell phone.
She strode in to the building. A paper on the wall read “Auditions: Two Floors Down� and pointed to an iron
spiral staircase to the left. Heart beating rapidly in excitement, Marisa headed down the stairs.
As she descended the final flight of stairs, Marisa started having second thoughts. What if Emma was right for
being overprotective? What if this really is a hoax and something turns out wrong?
Marisa shook those thoughts away and approached the door with a paper that read “Auditions In Here�.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, greeted by a dimly lit corridor.
She went to shut the door behind her when a man suddenly stepped inside, swinging a pipe to Marisa’s head
and knocking her unconscious.
* * *
She awoke in a dark room, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Marisa tried to yawn but discovered a ball-gag fastened
into her mouth. As she reacted to this, she felt thick ropes press against her wrists, which were tied together. Barbed
wire, tied around her ankles, tickled the bleeding skin at her feet. The rope holding her hands together was attached
to the ceiling of the cold, dank room.
The door to the room opened, revealing two men. One man was wearing a white lab coat and an African tribal
mask, while the other had a suit and carried a camera with a tripod.
Marisa screamed at them, yelling obscenities and begging them to let her go.
The man in the mask turned his head toward her. Marisa could feel his eyes stare at her through the holes in his
mask, burning with pleasure and desire.
“Don’t worry, bitch,� he said, “this is only going to be a short film.�
The man with the camera laughed as he assembled his tripod and flicked the camera on.
“Well, well, well,� the other man said, sliding his gloves onto his hands. Marisa noticed several bloodstains
on the gloves’ material. “You want to become a glamorous movie star, do you?�
Marisa shook her head.
He laughed. “No? Then why did you come here?�
Marisa sobbed, uttering words in between her cries, but her voice was muffled.
He walked around Marisa, eyeing her naked body and touching it a few times. When he came back to the front of
her body, he chuckled and played with her nipples, watching them harden with sickening delight. Marisa whimpered,
writhing whenever he touched her.
“It’s okay,â€� he said. “We’ll get this over with so you’ll be done in only a few minutes. Thatâ
€™s how long short films are, anyway. We like to do them less than ten minutes. But you’re a lucky one, so we
might have the funds to go a little longer.�
He glanced back at the cameraman, both of them chuckling.
“Get on with it!� the cameraman exclaimed, adjusting the camera.
“Hold on you pervert,� the masked man told him, walking over to a table with assorting weapons. He
paused, waiting for the cameraman’s signal.
“Camera rolling… camera speed… shooting in three… two… one… action!�
The masked man eyed the table, searching for the perfect weapon to deliver the first incision. He picked up a
butcher knife, eyeing it with a smirk, and walked back to Marisa.
Marisa’s eyes widened when she saw the knife. She screamed, tears flowing down her cheeks, begging for
him to stop.
“Ready for this, little lady?� he asked her. She shook her head. “Well I am!�
He took her left nipple in his thumb and index finger, slightly pinching it, and lowered the knife to just above the
delicacy. Smiling, he sliced down, cutting off the nipple in a spurt of blood.
As Marisa screamed while blood dripped from her breast, he moved on to the right breast, cutting off the nipple
and then watching it bleed. He turned to the rolling camera, holding the pieces of flesh in his hands, and opened his
mouth.
The masked man slipped the nipples onto his tongue and closed his mouth, chewing on the flesh with delight.
“Tastes like fucking chicken!� he told the camera.
He went back to the table and picked up an empty metal bucket and a hacksaw. Bending down at Marisa’s
feet, he set the bucket right below her, blood dripping from her feet into it. Then he took the hacksaw and readied it
at her ankles, just above the rope.
Marisa screamed, wriggling in her suspended position. She waited for him to dig the hacksaw into her skin until
she moved, sending the hacksaw cutting into the rope. It cut away the rope, freeing her legs, and Marisa skillfully
kicked the mask man in the face.
His mask flew off, revealing a hideously disfigured face. Marisa kicked him in the eye. He lunged backward,
clutching his eye and wailing in agony.
Marisa rubbed her wrists together, sliding them down from the tied rope, and managed to slip one finger out.
Slowly but surely she pushed the rope with her index finger, sliding it up so her hands could escape.
Once free Marisa fell from her hanging position, collapsing onto the metal bucket. She scrambled to her feet,
shaking the numbness from her legs, when she realized the masked man had gotten up.
He stared at her, one eye just below the nose, his cheeks scarred and bruised. Holding the chainsaw in his right
hand, he said, “You’ll pay for this, bitch!�
Marisa hurried to the table, picking up a butcher knife, and turned to the man. She slashed at the air continuously,
approaching him, and eventually reached his body. The knife swung at his hand, cutting two fingers off his left hand.
However the man’s hacksaw collided with her ribcage, knocking her away as blood spewed from her side.
She tripped but regained her balance. Readying her knife, she reached back and threw it at him. The blade
landed in his face, tearing into his forehead and knocking him down.
Spinning around, Marisa saw the camera on its tripod. But the cameraman was gone.
Marisa searched around for some clothes, spotted a bathrobe in the corner, and slipped it on. Then she sprinted
out of the room. To the left of the corridor, the cameraman was speaking with another masked man. To the right, the
door to the stairs awaited her.
She ran for her life to the right, not stopping to see the various men torturing other aspiring movie stars on film in
open rooms.
After pushing the door open, Marisa sprinted for the street. She looked for ongoing cars and spotted a white truck
coming in her direction.
She flailed her arms, running at the truck. A man wearing a straw hat and overalls was driving and gave her a
rather shocked look.
“Help me!� Marisa screamed. “Please, help me!�
She sprinted to the passenger door side, pounding on the car door. Turning to the apartment complex, she could
see masked men sprinting out.
The car door opened and Marisa scrambled inside.
“Hurry, drive!� she shrieked.
The car didn’t move.
“Please, drive! HURRY! DRIVE AWAY!�
Marisa turned to the driver and let out a bloodcurdling scream when she saw an African tribal crocodile mask
covering his face.