*Video Camera clicks on*
Some initial static on the screen appears and then disappears just as quickly. A chair sits under a spotlight, the background shrouded in darkness. I, Riter554, appear from the left hand side (your left, not mine) and sit in the chair. (Also, I don't care if you don't know what I look like. Use your imagination, people.)
"Hi everyone," I wave casually at the camera, "I know that this might seem a little strange, but I figured that I'd send out a message to those of you who still haunt my stories."
I fold my hands and straighten my back in the uncomfortable folding chair.
"I know many of you are still waiting for an update on Final Intimacies," I take a breath, "Don't worry, those are still coming. My life has become increasingly busy (although that's never really a valid excuse), and even though I have less time to write, I enjoy it more. So hopefully the upcoming vignettes will be up to scratch."
I nervously brush some hair away from my forehead. In case you haven't noticed by now, I hate the spotlight.
"Truthfully, my computer crashed last week, and while I had backed up most of my files, I was worried that I'd lose some that I hadn't managed to save on my flash drive." I take another breath. "I've been told that my computer should be fixed by next week, and that all my documents should be intact."
I try to smile – it looks uncomfortable.
"That means that I'll be posting some new Final Intimacies soon." I clap my hands together. "For some of you, I know that means you'll be happy (hopefully). But for others, all you can say is, 'I'm just waiting for another OC Battle Royale. All your other writing sucks.' To which I say, you may have a point, but I don't care."
I grin at the camera – truthfully, I'm only comfortable being mean, sarcastic, or both.
"However, my computer crashing has made me look over my Battle Royale, American Version, Season 23 story again, and I remembered how much I enjoyed writing it. Sure, it had its problems, but so do I, and so do you, and so did my characters." I shake my head. "So many problems."
A figure steps from the shadows behind me. I become aware of his presence as he kneels down, placing the scythe to my neck.
"You tried to make me tragic," Jeff says as he stares at the side of my face. I refuse to look at him. "But all you did was make me whiny."
With a quick yank backwards, Jeff slices into my throat and my head pops off my body.
*Static*
The camera flicks back on, and I am once again seated in the chair, my head magically reattached to my body. There is no scar or any blood, and I chuckle at the camera. I place a hand behind my head and rub my neck, slightly embarrassed.
"Sorry about that," I say, "Sometimes I'm reminded a little too much that my characters don't always appear like I want them to."
I smile widely at the camera, "And I guess I lost my head. Ha ha-"
I'm cut short as an arrow pierces my chest shot from behind the camera. Paul steps from the right side.
"That's not funny," he says, and then flashes a wide smile into the camera.
*Static*
"Fine, no more bad puns," I say, once again seated in the chair with no damage done to my body.
"Basically, I missed the enjoyment of writing my own Battle Royale," I pause as a girl drifts out of the darkness beside me. Ariana runs a soft hand down my cheek, and then slowly down my chest.
"So…um…like I was…saying," I try to focus, but Ariana's low cleavage is practically shoved into my face as her hand drifts lower and lower. "I missed the characters…and their…histories and fights…and…um…" Ariana places a soft kiss on my cheek, and my face flares up red as a strawberry.
"So…I want to write…another OC Battle Royale…" I pause as Ariana begins to kiss my neck. I try to speak, but before anything else comes out, Ariana dives in, her teeth bared. She pulls her head back, part of my esophagus trailing from her mouth. Blood erupts from the open hole in my neck, covering the camera lens in red thickness.
*Static*
A close up of my face as I wipe the blood off the lens. I open my mouth to breathe on the camera, giving you a perfect view of my uvula before returning to a shot of the snots stuck up my nose. I wipe more traces of blood off the glass.
*Static*
I take a deep breath, my face slightly annoyed. I'm leaned forward, my forearms resting on my knees, once again unharmed, seated in the chair.
"Okay, so I've finally decided to write a sequel to my BR, AV, S23 story. The only reason I'm calling it a sequel is because I'm having it take place after the previous story. Other than similar weapons, there isn't a whole lot linking this story with its predecessor. Maybe I'll change that as the story progresses, but I doubt that."
Matt appears on the left side of the screen. I glance at him casually before returning my attention to the camera in front of me. I open my mouth to speak, but Matt cuts me off.
"Hurry, Meatwad!" Matt says, chucking a meatball at my face, "Quick, turn into a hotdog!" The gooey meat sticks to my cheek, and I don't even bother to try and wipe it off. I continue to stare blankly at the camera.
"No, not the igloo!" Matt says, "The hotdog! Quick!" He sighs and chucks some moldy fries into my face. "It's up to you, Frylock! Use your laser beams or something! I know, your braces of death!"
I open my mouth to speak but once again I am cut off by Matt's ravings.
"I'll help you!" And he lunges at me, mouth wide open. He knocks me over and we both fall to the floor.
*Static*
The chair is empty when the camera flicks back on. There's some light breathing that can be heard off screen, but nothing moves into the field of vision. Suddenly, Matt's head pops up from below the camera, the remnants of my face draped over his own.
"I'm Leatherface!" he yells before-
*Static*
Once again I sit in the chair, in perfect health (somewhat). I'm scowling at the camera, obviously desperate to finish this FUCKING MESSAGE.
"Okay. So I'm thinking about a sequel. Okay. Don't worry, even if I do start writing it now, I won't post any of it until I'm done with Final Intimacies. I don't like to leave things unfinished." I sigh, and lean back in the chair. "For all of you who took my survey and left me reviews, thanks for helping me with my first story. Really, I wouldn't be writing another if it wasn't for the support and criticism you were willing to give. I appreciate you guys for taking the time to help me by telling me, honestly, what rocks and what sucks."
A girl steps in front of the camera, blocking the view of me sitting in the chair.
"What do you want?" I say, my voice on the edge of being raised. Donna steps closer to me, giving the camera a full view of her back and the top of her ass.
"You killed me off first!" She screams and then lunges at me.
*Static*
Once again the camera clicks on and the chair is empty. Some noise can be heard in the background, but nothing comes into view until-
I stumble in from the left side of the screen. Donna is perched on my back, pulling my hair and clawing at my face.
"First!" she screeches as I sway and stagger off the screen to the right, "FIRST!!!!!"
*Static*
I'm seated once again, a hand covering my face. I glare at the camera before me between my fingers for a long time before I start speaking again.
"As you may have noticed, I've recorded this under a story named Aftermath. That was the title of the sequel I was thinking of writing, following Leslie in her trials and tribulations as the winner of BR, AV, S23. I've written a few chapters that I will post here once I get my computer back, assuming I haven't lost those documents. Read them for your own pleasure, but I've decided not to use them. I will be taking Leslie on a different route and will probably have her appear in my new sequel as a different character than those portrayed in the chapters of Aftermath. So like I said, enjoy them if you can, but they are stand alone (complexes)."
I take another deep breath.
"So bear with me people. I know I haven't been updating like I should, and I appreciate those of you who continue to stick by me. I hope I can continue to entertain you with my writing (if that's truly what I manage to do)."
Another deep breath. I manage a smile that looks only halfway genuine.
"So thanks for listening to me for this long, I promise-"
I'm cut off as Isaac runs in from off screen. He raises a foot and proceeds to stamp my groin into submission.
"How the fuck do you like it?" he says as I topple onto the ground and he kicks me a few more times for good measure. He straightens up and mutters, "Bastard." He walks by the camera and knocks it to the ground. The lens cracks, but you can still see me in the fetal position, clutching my stomach and gagging. I gaze over and stare into the camera. I open my mouth to say something, but a tsunami of vomit emerges from my mouth and flows over the camera.
*Static*