"Hello, mister, have you seen any rectangles around here? I think I might be lost." Jackery Jack Jak Jackson tugs at the shirt of the only other person in the strange theater into which he has stumbled. This person turns around, revealing that they are none other than renowned youth horror novelist R. L. Stine.
"READER BEWARE…YOU'RE IN FOR A SCARE!" bellows R. L. Stine. Jackery screams like a little girl, and Stine lets out a cackle. "If you wish to escape R. L. Stine's mystical theater of illusions, you must first…listen to my tale. This is a true story, one that I experienced myself, just months ago, but not many…"
Jackery has no choice but to hear Stine out, as there are no visible exits to the room anymore. R. L. Stine swooshes his cloak dramatically as he begins to recount his story.
"It all started at the local convention center…a day like any other. They were hosting a convention there, a HORROR convention. And I was there, of course. Signing my books. But then, I heard something strange…the creaking of a door, and then footsteps, as though going down stairs. But there was no door in sight! It was then that my gaze fell upon the booth right next to mine, belonging to a fellow novelist by the name of Andr W. Horrorwit."
The sound of thunder echoes throughout the theater and lights flash to emulate lightning.
"I peeled back the curtain behind his booth, and there it was, a trap door, open, leading into darkness, with a steep staircase into the black abyss. As I peered down below, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, and a figure in a dark hood stood behind me. It said, 'do not go down there alone. I will protect you.' Before I could say anything, he had already descended into the unseen depths below. I felt I had no choice but to follow him. The basement of the convention center was dark and dusty, and strange statues and boxes of unknowable things filled every nook and cranny. The only thing I could see clearly, though, was a bobbing lantern heading through the darkness, which I approached with caution. It was Horrorwit! I thought about calling out to him, but he seemed preoccupied, and had yet to notice me. It almost seemed as though he was trying to escape from something, but if that were the case…why was he heading further into the basement, rather than outside? And then, I heard footsteps once more, and I saw what exactly it was that gave him such a fright: a ghastly undead creature, known as…Boneregard."
A sound effect of rattling bones can be heard, and Jackery cowers in place, looking for the source.
"To my horror, Boneregard approached me. He asked…if I had a flashlight. In fear for my life, I handed over my torch, and he waved his hand at me as he walked by, followed by two others in the darkness. A tall sort, in a shady coat and hat, and a stouter lad, with bone-white hair and a strange set of spectacles…I thought I would be lost in the darkness forever without my torch or Horrorwit's lantern, but the hooded figure who had led me downstairs appeared before me once more, and from his hand came a double-sided sabre of light. The room was flooded with a crimson hue."
The lights of the room dim and turn red.
"I was clearly in too deep, and had no choice but to see this all through to the end. The figure led me down another flight of stairs, and into…the sub-basement. It was even spookier down there, but in the red light I could see cages hanging from the ceiling, with strange figures inside, that I dared not approach. And there on the other end of the room I saw Horrorwit's lantern once more. And then, I heard a voice from the darkness…it said…'damn it! Where's that light switch?' and then another…'I found it, don't worry.' Then, the room was cast into a white light, penetrating all the darkness. I could see everyone, but also, everyone…could see me. I quickly hid behind a conveniently shaped cactus that perfectly matched my silhouette. It was uncomfortable, yes, but it was life or death. And, fortunately enough, there was a mirror right in front of me, so I could still watch everything unfold from my cover. Horrorwit came to a halt before he could reach the next set of stairs. It seemed he had been caught up to, and had to face his foes head on. I couldn't quite make out most of what Horrorwit was saying, but I distinctly heard…'turn the lights off'. It seemed he wanted the darkness on his side, but his assailants would not listen. Suddenly, a strange fog began to emanate around Horrorwit, a thick cloud through which I could not see. It was at this point that my robed companion shed his concealing adornment, and I recognized him as having received an autograph from me, earlier that very day. His name was, I believe…Slave the Duel Guy. He rushed forwards towards the others, shouting some kind of strange hex or incantation…'Lynyrd Skynyrd'...as soon as he entered the fog, though, I heard cries of anguish echoing from within, and moments later, Slave emerged, bruised and beaten, falling to the ground unconscious. I then saw Boneregard reach for his hat, and he hurled it through the mist. Horrorwit yelled from the other side, and the fog dissipated. There I saw Horrorwit clutching his leg, with a large gash through it. The hat was embedded in the wall, a sharp blade hidden within its brim. What happened next, though, is beyond explanation…the taller of the assailants rushed forwards towards Horrorwit, and swung his fist through the air, but it must have been some sort of feint, because his fist never connected. Despite this, Horrorwit seemed petrified, as though he could no longer move. He stood still as the stout one drew near, taking from his pocket a large needle, the likes of which I have never seen anywhere else. He stabbed the needle into Horrorwit, and just like that…Horrorwit disappeared. No trace left behind, save for an air freshener that must have been in his pocket. The three intruders left, returning upstairs and thankfully never uncovering my position. When I returned to the convention, and the day went on as normal, I thought maybe it was all just a dream…but then, the next day, I was browsing a horror forum, and a news article caught my eye. Horror novelist Andr W. Horrorwit had been…confirmed dead."
An evil laugh echoes throughout the theater as another thunderclap effect goes off, followed shortly by an elevator ding. A door slides open against the wall of the theater.
"Thank you for listening, and remember…sometimes, truth is more frightening than fiction!" Stine declares, as Jackery runs screaming through the door.