A belligerent rain battered the heavy mud outside as a thick moonlight pierced the windows of the cabin and splashed onto the lenses of Anthony’s video camera.

He had been staring out of the window for some time now, one eye attached to the rubber rim of his camera’s eye-piece, zooming in and out and in again as puddles of dirt ricochet outside in the darkness and the sound of loud music and frenzied chatter clamoured behind him.

As he did so, he thought back to the first time he’d laid hands on the camera.

It had been a birthday present, given to him by his Mother and Step-father on his sixteenth birthday, and since that moment, when he unwrapped it from its faceless brown paper coat, Anthony had become obsessed with it.

Films were his life. Long before the video camera arrived, Anthony held the names Tarrantino, Lynch, Kubrick in higher regard than he did members of his own family. His bedroom was a shrine to the men who, to him, didn’t just make films, but made art, made life-affirming statements and presented deeply esoteric philosophies shared by him and him alone.

Yet once equipped with the camera, he was no longer satisfied to simply to enjoy the work of his idols. Now he was obsessed with the sole goal of becoming one of them, a master of the art of filmmaking, a visionary.

That’s why he carried the camera everywhere with him, filming everything he could in the hope that eventually, something would strike him with enough inspiration that he could keep on filming it, turning it into his own masterpiece.

But there was no inspiration to be found in the vile winter weather outside, so instead he turned and returned to the party.

“There you are!” cried Claire, as he made his way back into the lounge area of the cabin, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her the curved flesh of her soft, dark lips against the camera lenses.
“Put the camera down and come and have a drink you daft sod!”

Anthony did as he was told. He always did whenever it was Claire doing the telling. It wasn’t that she was especially bossy, more that he was so enamoured by her, so terrified of a day he deemed inevitable, when she would eventually leave him, that he would do anything to make her happy.

Still holding the camera, he dropped it to one side and joined the party.

It was the end of term, and to celebrate, Anthony and Claire had joined their closest friends in renting out this colossal wood cabin, not too far from civilisation yet far away enough to give them peace, for one giant week-long party.

Tonight was the first night. They’d arrived earlier that evening and almost immediately began to unwind; Claire, Louise, Vicki, Jimmy and Jonesy all cranking up the volume and cracking open the drinks whilst Anthony sloped around, pointing his video camera in all directions, filming everything and nothing all at once.

That was a few hours ago now, and everyone was in high spirits. Anthony slouched back into one of the deep chairs that sat in the far corner of the room and relaxed, sighing heavily and resting his head back against the chair.

With his eyes loosely shut, Anthony didn’t notice Claire skipping her away across the room towards him, smiling, laughing, looking beautiful.

Her fiery red hair danced in all directions across her pale cheeks, passed her glistening brown eyes and down to her shoulders, and her taut legs were soon wrapped tightly across his waist as she sat down over him, tilting her head back and laughing some more.

Anthony opened his eyes and smiled.
“Hi,” he said shyly.
“Hi,” she replied as she took the camera from him and pointed it towards him.
Anthony looked at her curiously.
“What are you doing?”
“Filming you, it’s not fair that you get to hide behind that’s screen all the time.”

Claire pointed the camera directly at Anthony, zooming in on the scar just below his lips and then upwards towards his dark green eyes and soft shock of fair hair.
“So, tell me, why are you so obsessed with viewing the world through this camera.”
“It’s safer,” he whispered.
“Safer?”
“Yes. I don’t trust the world, I don’t trust myself to see things clearly. All we see when we look at the world is what our minds tell our eyes they want us to see. Like, say we’re both out in town, I’m a cynical old git and you’re some lovely, optimistic young woman who believes everything in the world is brilliant and fantastic.”

Claire’s smile turned in on itself into a bewildered frown.

“OK…”
“Now, say we see a young lad, all shaved head and tattoos, menacing looking guy, clutching the arms of an old lady. Me being the cynical chap, I immediately assume he’s about to rob her, kick her to the ground and pinch her purse, but to you, well, he’s her grandson, and he’s about to help her across the road with her shopping. Either of us could be right, but we’ll never be able to admit it if we’re wrong because that’s what our eyes have told us.”
“So what does this have to do with the camera?”
“The camera never lies, Claire. It doesn’t mater what I want to see, the camera shows me exactly what happened.”
“And what about this big plan of yours to make the world’s most magnificent film?”
“Oh, that’ll come in time…”

Anthony’s voice faded mid-sentence as both he and Claire became distracted by some loud arguing coming from the opposite corner.
“You’re a chicken!” yelled Jonesy, waving his finger stubbornly towards Jimmy.
“You’re frightened of your own shadow!”
“I am not! Barked Jimmy, launching out of his seat and pushing Jonesy.
Anthony and Claire moved closer to the fracas, standing by Louise and Vicki and watching curiously as Jimmy and Jonesy argued amongst themselves.
“What are they fighting about?” Anthony asked as he quickly pulled his camera up to his face and began shooting.
“No idea, they just kind of exploded towards one another.” Louise said, taking a step back to avoid getting caught up in the argument.
“Prove it then!” said Jonesy, laughing.
“Jimmy, you don’t have to prove anything,” said Vicki. “Leave him alone Jonesy, there’s no need to pick on Jimmy.”

There never was any need to pick on Jimmy, but Jonesy did it any way, and he did it often. There were things about himself that Jonesy hated, everyone knew it but he’d never admit it, would never confess the fact that he felt insecure about himself, instead channeling his energies into antagonizing Jimmy, who for the most part was shy, unassuming and would never hurt a fly.

On this night though, it seemed Jonesy had pushed Jimmy a bit too far, and all Jimmy could do now was push Jonesy back.
“You want me to prove it,” he yelled, his face flush with anger. “I’ll bloody well prove it to you. You see those woods out there? That’s where I’m gonna spend tonight, on my own, in the dark.”
“Bet you won’t!”
“Oh you bet, do you? Sod off Jonesy!”
And with that, Jimmy smacked Jonesy squarely in the jaw, and stormed out of the house into the night as his foe reeled backwards and fell flat on his backside, his drink flying into the air and crashing with a splash on top of him.

Anthony filmed the whole thing.

The rest of the night passed without incident, with everyone believing that Jimmy would come back to the cabin once he’d calmed down, and safe in the knowledge that everything would be better in the morning, Anthony, Claire, Louise, Vicki and Jonesy called it a night and went to bed.

* * * *
A deep silence fell over the cabin as they slept; the heavy breaths of sleeping souls and whistling winds outside the windows the only sounds that could be heard as darkness loomed in all corners.

Then, a crash, the sickening sound of smashing glass and flesh being ripped apart. A scream, from Jonesy, shattered furniture colliding against the walls and the wind and rain hurling in through the broken window.

Then, again, silence.

Anthony woke with a start and turned to see Claire, sat up in bed, her pale face gripped with fear and her lithe body trembling.
“Did you hear that?” she asked him as she threw her arms around him.
“What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know, but come on, we’d better check if everyone’s alright.”

They dressed quickly, and before they left the room, Anthony picked up his video camera from the bedside table and rapidly flicking it onto record.
“You’re not, are you?” asked Claire as she glared viciously towards him.
“Come on,” he replied, ignoring her question.

Out in the hall way, it seemed the violent sounds of the night had woken Louise and Vicki too, and all four of them now stood, staring at each other, shaking, clutching one another’s arms, terrified.
“It came from Jonesy’s room.” Louise said with a fragile whimper, the tiniest of tears tricking from her wide eyes.
“Follow me,” said Anthony, asserting himself as the leader as he crept slowly and with caution into Jonesy’s bedroom, pushed back the door and switched on the light, all the while filming everything around him.

At once the girls screamed loudly, fear racing through their veins and terror banging against their hearts as they each held on to each other tightly, cowering behind Anthony and hiding their eyes from the site of Jonesy, lying naked on the bed, a long deep wound torn his body from the tip of his chin to the bottom of his stomach, swollen and oozing blood like some visceral volcano.

A bitter stench of death lingered in thick air, caressing Jonesy’s tortured flesh, weaving its way into the nostrils of his terrified friends and, combined with the sight of blood and the aftermath of violence, turned their guts inside out.

They stood in silence; Vicki, Louise and Claire staring in morbid horror at the dead body lying in front of them, Anthony taking a closer look at the wounds and the dark, vacant look in Jonesy’s eyes through the camera.

Claire turned to him, her body shaking and fear consuming her eyes, glared at Anthony then pounced on him.

“Turn that thing off!” she cried, wrestling the camera from his grasp. Anthony held on tightly with one hand. He was taller, broader, much stronger than Claire, whose tiny fingers and fragile arms struggled to claim the camera, and with one quick swoop of his free arm, managed to push her gently into a nearby chair.

“It stays on,” he yelled, his face now flush with fear and anger.
Louise pushed Anthony and he reeled backwards.
“Anthony, this isn’t some fantastic horror movie, this is your friend, stop being weird!”

All four of them were now gripped with hostility, anger, confusion, ostensibly directed towards Jonesy’s killer, on the surface, directed at one another.
“We need evidence, evidence is what we must have, evidence is what I’m getting on this camera,” Anthony said calmly.

Louise and Vicki were crying now, tears streaming down their faces as they held on to each other for comfort, and at once Anthony decided that he had to take some control.

Breathing deeply, he dropped the camera to his side and offered an arm out to Claire. She took it, and stood looking deep into his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Claire lunged forward, throwing her arm around him and squeezing him tightly round the shoulders.

Extending his arms, Anthony offered Louise and Vicki comfort too, holding on to the three girls as his mind raced to catch up with reality and come up with a plan.
“Right, look. We need to go and find Jimmy, he’ll be out in those woods on his own, and if there’s a killer on the loose, he could get to him too.”
“But what if that was Jimmy?” Vicki whimpered.
“Yeah,” added Louise, “I mean, I know it’s not like him, but you’ve gotta think, Jonesy was practically bullying Jimmy, what if it just built it up and up inside him until he couldn’t take any more.”
“Come on!” yelled Claire. “This is Jimmy you’re talking about, he’s our mate. And besides, the poor lad wouldn’t hurt a fly. No, Anthony’s right, we need to go out and look for him.”

Hastily, they retreated back into their bedrooms and returned a few minutes later, fully dressed and carrying flashlights, with Anthony’s ever-present camera watching their every move. They looked at each other for a moment, staring in silence and each privately wondering if they really were doing the right thing, then left the cabin.

The air outside was cold and sharp. A whispering wind whipped its way through the sagging branches of looming trees and danced gently into a dark blue sky lit with a sparse trail of pale stars.

Louise hugged herself tightly to protect from the cold and sunk her head into Claire’s shoulder for comfort.
“So, where do we start?” she asked.
“The woods. Come on, the entrance is only a few minutes away.”

Claire offered strength to Louise, and Vicki too, wrapping her arms around their shoulders as they marched slowly followed behind Anthony, who refused to turn his camera off.

The entrance to the woods was further way than they’d first thought, lying at the bottom of a narrow dirt track and defined by a dirty old log fence where any semblance of civilization ended, the untamed wilderness began and where Claire, Louise and Vicki promptly stopped dead in their tracks.
“What’s the matter with you?” Anthony yelled as he noticed that the girls were no longer following him. He’d marched ahead now, throwing his gangly frame over the fence and heading forward a few feet, the neat crunching of fallen twigs and rocks and dirt echoing beneath his feet.
“Are you really sure about this Anthony?” asked Claire, allowing herself, if only for a moment, to drop her usually tough and undeterred exterior and reveal her own fears.
“Not really sure no,” Anthony replied. “I’ll admit, I’m as scared as the rest of you, but for Jimmy’s sake, I really think its worth we at least try and find him. Now, it’s up to you guys. You can either go back to the cabin and do nothing, or you can head into the woods and help find Jimmy. Either way, I’m going in.”
“Me too.” said Louise boldly, seemingly switching places with Claire and standing defiant against her fears. Inspired by Louise’s new-found bravery, both Claire and Vicki insisted that they would both come too, and the three of them helped one another over the fence, following Anthony further into the thick darkness of the woods.

They had been walking for around fifteen minutes, following the beaten track through imposing trees, over slow running streams and further into the black night, and calling out Jimmy’s name en route when suddenly the beaten track seemed to disappear and they found themselves trapped in a mesh of brambles and nettles and twisted branches from some distant plants.
“Well done Anthony,” cried Claire. He turned to her and pointed the camera directly at her face, zooming in on her snarled lips and the seething heaviness of her chest.
“What?”
“We’re lost!”
“We’re not lost.”
“Alright then, where are we?”
“Well, I know we came from that direction.”
Anthony twisted his body round and pointed north. Yet the path which they’d taken now seemed to have vanished beneath the brambles, lost forever in a thin film of fog that began slowly descending across the dark sky.
“Oh.”
“You idiot!” screamed Vicki. She lashed out towards Anthony, her chubby arms swinging violently and her face filled with rage as she launched her attack. Anthony moved out of harms way, and Vicki crashed to the floor, her thick flesh landing with force in the dirt as screeched loudly.

There was a moment of confusion, Vicki lying on her portly stomach on the wet ground and looking up at her bewildered, cold and frightened friends who for a fleeting moment were unsure what to do.

Then, in the quickest of instances, something long, sharp, glimmering with a harsh light in the reflection of the shallow moon shot down from some unseen height and pierced the skin on the back of Vicki’s neck, slicing right the way through past the muscle and bone and revealed itself again on the other side.
There were screams. From Vicki, from Claire, from Louise. There was commotion and panic and fear and frenzy as the girls jumped towards Anthony and he leapt in to meet them, gripping them both tightly and pulling them in closer to him yet not for one second taking his hand off the camera that rolled on, capturing everything and focusing on the venomous steel blade that tacked Vicki’s lifeless body to the ground like a tent peg.

The three of them held onto each other tightly, their bodies shaking under the weight of the fear.
“Where the hell did that come from?” screamed Claire, her eyes streaming heavy tears and her cold hands pressed firm against Anthony’s.
“No idea, but somebody, somewhere has definitely got it in for us.”
“Who though? Why would they? What did we ever do to anyone? Why? Why? Why?”
Claire was sobbing now, her face drenched with hot tears and her body quivering. Louise stepped forward.
“To make a film,” she said sternly.
“What?”
“Oh this all makes so much sense now, doesn’t it Anthony. You’re always going on about this great masterpiece of a movie, aren’t you? Is this it? Some vile horror movie with us lot as your unsuspecting stars? What happens next Anthony? Does Claire get her head chopped off? Do I get attacked by some evil axe-wielding maniac in a clown mask? Huh?” she was growing hysterical now, her arms flailing in an expression of anger and madness. Anthony gripped her hard and shook her still.
“Don’t be so stupid, Lou. Of course I didn’t.”
“So why bother keeping that stupid camera on then, eh?”
“Look, the only reason I‘m keeping this thing running now is for evidence. At some point, when we get out of here.”
“If we get out here.”
“When we get out of here, we’re gonna have to go to the police. And when we do, we’ll hand them this tape. Now come on, you know, I’ve had enough of this. Jonesy’s dead, Vicki’s dead, Jimmy’s gone missing and we’re not likely to find him. Let’s just get out of here, get to the police station and get there alive.”
“Anthony’s right Louise. We’ve gotta stay rational about all this, it’ll do nobody any good to start blaming each other,” Claire added.
Louise breathed deeply, sighed and buried her chin into her bosom.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“And besides, how could Anthony have killed either of them? He was in bed with me when we heard that noise in Jonesy’s room and he was stood right there, right next to you when that thing just came and killed Vicki.”
“OK, OK. Can we please just get out of here though?”
They looked down at the limp, lifeless body of their fallen friend through eyes swollen with the bulging riverbanks of tears, hugged each other for comfort and soldiered on.
“Jimmy!”
“Jimmy, come on mate! This is messed up, we need to get out here and get home.”
“JIMMY! WHERE ARE YOU?”
Their cries fell silent in the midst of the fog, echoing out through the caverns of the woods yet remaining unanswered as they battled their way though knotted nettles and belligerent trees which seemed intent on keeping them from reaching the other side of the woods until they reached a vast opening.

They stood now in a large, open circle, surrounded on all side with sparse rocks and thick, imposing trees which hung in the distance, looking down on them. Anthony panned the area with his camera, the girls hid well behind him.

They crept quietly towards each other, holding onto one another, whispering, feeling the eerie chill that haunted the air lingering all around them and shaking with the fear of some unknown evil that skulked slowly inside them.

Then they screamed.

They leapt into the air and crashed to the ground, crying, seething with dread as a long piece of rope swung from a nearby tree, backwards and forwards with speed, spilling blood.

There was something attached to the bottom of it. A long, round object, that swung violently this way and that, cracking against the rocks and hovering inches from their faces and they closed their eyes firmly.

A few seconds later they opened them again. Then they screamed again. The long, round object that hung from the rope wasn’t an object at all. On closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a head. A head they recognized, a head they knew, a head that had once been attached to the body of Jimmy.

Compelled, Anthony zoomed in fast to the blank expression in the dead eyes of his friend, to the scars that darted across his face like road marks, to the heavy blood that dripped slowly from his agape mouth.

Then he turned the camera off.
“This has gone too far.” He said, his voice filled with grief and sadness, quickly turning to anger.

“Come on then!” he yelled. “If you’re out there, stop messing about, come and get us. We’re right here!”

The girls looked on, stepping back away from Anthony as he lashed out at the air, punching some imaginary foe and screaming at them to attack.

“Anthony, calm down, please, you’re not helping.” Begged Claire. “We’ve gotta keep our heads.”
“Excellent choice of words, Claire.” Louise whimpered.

Claire snorted the tears away and smiled gently. Anthony smiled too.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just really starting to loose it now.”
“It’s alright, come here.”

She reached out to hug him, to hold him close to her and tell him that everything was going to be alright. Yet before she could reach him, Anthony was pulled backwards, lifted from his feet. A second rope had swung from invisible ledge, this one tied at the bottom in a noose which had secured itself around Anthony’s neck and was dragging him further backwards, upwards.

“Anthony!”

Claire screamed, she reached up to grab his legs and tried with all her might to drag him back to the ground.

“Louise! Please!”

Louise raced forward and did her best to help, but it was no use, and with one final heavy tug, Anthony’s body was swept into the trees, his upper body hidden by a mesh of branches, his limp legs dangling in the air.

To find out what happens to Claire and Louise, and who this mysterious killer is, read the concluding part of this tale soon at The LINC Online.

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