Deep shades of grey and black painted the darkening sky as the clouds rolled towards us at a slow but steady pace, like a psychopath with a knife who was approaching his victim with intent to kill. Low, foreboding thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Shadow, aren't you coming?"

I turned to Amy, who was wearing her favorite denim jacket and olive-green skirt, beckoned to me from the doorway to the theatre. She opened the door and looked at me anxiously.

"Yeah," I reassured, "yeah, I'm coming."

We walked inside and flashed our tickets, not bothering to buy popcorn or soda on our way into the pitch-black showing room. The commercials hadn't even started yet, I noted as we took our seats in the middle of the center row. I instinctively wrapped an arm around Amy as the lights dimmed and became even darker.

"So," I whispered, "what is 'Doctor Syringe' even about?"

Amy glanced at me with glimmering eyes, like a child's eyes as they were about to tell you all about their day at kindergarten. "It's about this guy who was a doctor, but then he failed a heart surgery and accidently killed the patient. Because he's so distraught, he goes insane and starts injecting everyone with this stuff that makes them go crazy like him, and then…"

She suddenly clapped her hands in my face and succeeded in making me jump in my seat. "Then he kills them!" she finished.

And everyone called me Goth. I was shocked to see Amy get so excited about a crazy ex-doctor who killed people for fun. "Sounds interesting," I admitted.

A trailer for a new comedy about bad parenting or something came onscreen, and I decided to pass the time by glancing around the theatre and daydreaming. There were virtually no other people in the room with us; an ideal setting in which to view a horror flick. But in the left corner of the very back row sat what looked like a hedgehog in a grey hoodie.

Grey hoodie? Was it the same man who had been raking leaves before? Improbable, but not impossible. I brushed it off as an odd coincidence, but I decided to keep an eye on the potential stalker.

Then the movie began. It opened with a grainy video of a syringe shattering on concrete, and a woman screamed as the liquid splashed across the pale ground. "Doctor Syringe," the glass spelled in frightening text. Charming.

I heard a virtually silent whirring from the corner of the theatre, and I cast a wary glance back at the hedgehog in the hoodie. He glanced back at me suddenly, and I caught a glimpse of his blood-red eyes. They were literally burning crimson in the darkness of the showing room. He raised his hand to me and waved slowly.

I quickly turned back around.

"Doctor? You look terrible, are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Denise. However, you look a little sickly. Might I interest you in some of my medicine?"

"Doctor, what are you doing with that syringe? Doctor… doctor!"

The screen let out a girlish scream as the insane man pierced a woman's throat with a large needle. Blood gushed and splattered the camera.

Amy jumped and grabbed my arm in a vice-grip, squealing quietly.

I put my hand on hers and sighed to myself. When was this movie going to end?

"Peter! My God, man, what have you done to Denise?"

"The patient is simply under the influence of a special anesthetic I've developed. Nothing to be concerned about, Gerry."

"Peter, you damned fool! Snap out of it!"

"Perhaps, you'd like a taste, Gerry. A taste of the future of medicine!"

Doctor Syringe lunged forward, cackling as he did so, and punctured Gerry's wrist with a syringe full of blue liquid. Gerry howled in pain and reeled backwards, slamming against a chest of drawers and collapsing to the ground.

"My… m-my vision…"

"It's a wonderful new pain-reliever I created. Don't worry, Gerry, I'm not going to feel a thing!"

"You bastard… Denise, wake up, Denise."

Doctor Syringe kept on laughing, and Amy inched ever-closer to my chest. Her nose was buried into my tuft of white hair.

I cast a curious look over at the man in the corner-seat. He didn't see me this time. Those vibrantly scarlet eyes were locked intently on the screen. Maybe he was a horror-geek. Maybe he wasn't going to stalk us home after the movie. Maybe pigs can fly.

"Peter, you have to stop this madness."

"The doctor isn't here right now… but if you'd like to make an appointment, I'm sure we can pencil you in."

"Damn it, man! Have you lost your mind? My… my eyes are going… I-I can't see…"

The man called Gerry tumbled and moaned in pain as the murdering medicine-man came closer to the screen, his hideous smile spreading wider and wider across his face.

"I… am… Doctor Syringe!"

The sharp end of a needle suddenly flew towards the screen and pierced the camera lens. Glass shattered and snapped as the credits rolled.

What a waste of time, I thought to myself, standing and getting ready to leave. "Show's over," I announced to Amy, who was apparently frozen to the seat in fear.

I tucked my hands into my pockets and sighed. I had warned her. Did she listen? No…

I turned around and stretched my legs before exiting the row and waiting for my petrified girlfriend to catch up. That's when I saw the hoodie-wearing creep from before leaving the theatre. He didn't even spare me a farewell glance as he pushed the doors open and exited. I breathed a sigh of relief. One less thing to worry about. Just my imagination.