Chapter 1: Reel Connections

Amber Freeman leaned back against the peeling brick wall of the dingy coffee shop, fingers tapping rhythmically against her phone. The evening sky above Woodsboro had started to bleed orange and pink, casting a muted glow on the small town. She liked this time of day—when things seemed to slow down, and the shadows deepened just enough to hide.

Her friends were still inside, probably arguing over horror movies or complaining about school, but Amber had needed a break from the noise. As much as she enjoyed the chaos, there were times she preferred to be alone with her thoughts, where her obsessive love for all things dark and twisted didn't feel out of place.

She lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, enjoying the sharp bite of smoke in her lungs. The soft creak of the door behind her snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Can I bum one?" a voice asked, smooth yet with a faint edge, like someone trying too hard to sound casual.

Amber turned, slightly annoyed at the intrusion, but froze when she saw him. He was tall, with dark hair that was tousled just the right amount to seem effortless. His eyes were sharp, studying her with an intensity that was unnerving, but not unpleasant. He smiled, the corners of his lips tugging upward in a way that wasn't entirely friendly—but interesting.

"Sure," she said, handing him a cigarette from her pack. "You new here?"

"Yeah, something like that." He leaned in to light it, the flame from his lighter casting flickering shadows across his face. He took a drag and exhaled slowly. "Name's Ethan."

"Amber." She eyed him up and down, curiosity piqued. Woodsboro wasn't exactly known for attracting new people, especially ones who didn't reek of small-town boredom. "What brings you to this boring little corner of the world?"

Ethan smirked. "Got family here. Figured I'd check it out, see what all the fuss is about."

She scoffed. "There's no fuss. This town's a graveyard. You'll be dying to leave in a week."

His smile widened, as if he found her response amusing. "You don't seem like the type who likes to play it safe. Maybe this place isn't so dead after all."

Amber raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar spark of interest she usually reserved for people who shared her darker interests. There was something about Ethan—something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But it intrigued her.

"And you? You don't seem like the type who just drops into a town like this unless you're looking for something," she challenged.

Ethan met her gaze, unfazed. "Maybe I am."

They stood in silence for a moment, smoke swirling between them, each assessing the other. Amber felt a thrill run through her. She didn't trust easily, and something about Ethan told her that maybe she shouldn't. But that didn't stop her from being drawn to him.

"You into horror movies?" she asked suddenly.

He chuckled. "Who isn't?"

Amber tilted her head. "Favorite?"

"That's like asking a parent to pick their favorite kid." His tone was playful but serious, and it made her smile. "But… if I had to choose? Psycho. The original."

"Classic." Amber nodded approvingly. "Nightmare on Elm Street for me. I like the idea that your mind is never safe."

Ethan's eyes gleamed. "A mind can be a dangerous place."

She liked that answer. It was vague, but there was something in his tone that suggested he understood more than he was letting on. Amber felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, not from fear but from the rush of knowing she'd found someone who might see the world the way she did—twisted, unpredictable, and full of secrets.

"Tell me, Amber," Ethan said, stepping closer, his voice lowering. "What's a girl like you really doing in a town like this?"

Amber smirked, letting her cigarette drop to the ground and crushing it beneath her boot. "Maybe I like the quiet. Maybe I'm waiting for something to happen."

Ethan leaned in slightly, just enough to blur the lines of personal space. "Or maybe you're waiting for someone to make something happen."

Her heart raced. There was something dark and electric in his words, like he was offering more than just small talk. She didn't know what it was exactly, but she wanted to find out.

"Maybe," she said softly, locking eyes with him. "Maybe I am."

Ethan smiled, but this time, there was no pretense of friendliness. It was something else, something darker. Something Amber recognized.

She had a feeling this was the beginning of something dangerous.

And she liked it.

The dim lighting of the old Woodsboro theater cast long shadows across the rows of worn seats. Amber sat cross-legged, comfortably sinking into her usual spot—second row from the back, dead center. She loved this place, with its slightly musty smell and creaky floors. There was something comforting about its familiarity, even as she indulged in her love for stories that twisted reality into something much darker.

Next to her, Ethan slouched with the same casual intensity he always had, arms resting on the armrests like he owned the place. It had been two weeks since they met, and they'd fallen into a rhythm—horror movie marathons, late-night conversations, and the occasional whispered secret about things they found exciting that they wouldn't share with just anyone.

Tonight, the film was Halloween—the original 1978 version. Amber watched the familiar opening sequence, the eerie music kicking in as the title appeared on the screen. Michael Myers was about to make his first kill, the mask obscuring his face, giving him an almost supernatural presence. Amber knew every beat of this movie, but it never lost its charm.

"Is it weird that I kinda admire Michael Myers?" Ethan's voice broke through the hum of the movie.

Amber glanced at him, amused. "Admire? Like, you wanna be him or something?"

Ethan smirked, but there was a glint in his eyes that she recognized. "Not exactly. But there's something about his focus. He doesn't stop, doesn't care about anything but what he wants. That's power."

Amber tilted her head, intrigued. "You think it's about power?"

"Isn't everything?" Ethan replied, his gaze now fixed on the screen. "He doesn't need to talk. He doesn't need anyone's approval. He just… does what he's supposed to do."

Amber shifted in her seat, thinking about how much that resonated with her. She had always felt the pull of control, the allure of staying one step ahead, and understanding things others didn't. She'd never quite put it into words like that, though.

"I get that," she said quietly, her eyes flicking back to the movie. "It's like there's no room for fear in his mind. Just purpose."

Ethan leaned a little closer, their shoulders now brushing. "Exactly."

As the movie progressed, they exchanged quiet remarks about the scenes—Amber pointing out the details she loved, Ethan riffing on how Laurie Strode was different from most final girls. He liked her resourcefulness, her ability to survive.

Their dates were like this—centered around the movies they loved, where violence and terror were transformed into something almost artistic. They spent hours dissecting scenes, talking about what made certain killers iconic, and what separated a good slasher from a forgettable one.

Another evening, after a back-to-back showing of Friday the 13th and Scream, they lingered in the parking lot outside the theater. The night air was cool, and Amber leaned against her car, hands stuffed into her leather jacket. Ethan stood in front of her, his expression thoughtful, like he was piecing together some larger idea.

"You ever think about how Jason's basically invincible?" Ethan asked, breaking the silence.

Amber smirked, nodding. "Yeah, it's kinda what makes him terrifying. You can't kill him, no matter what you do."

"Right. But what if it's not just because of some supernatural curse or whatever? What if it's about people's fear? Like, as long as they're afraid, he keeps coming back. Fear fuels him."

Amber chuckled softly. "That's kinda deep for a guy who wears a hockey mask and barely moves faster than a walk."

Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he smiled. "Fear makes people do stupid things, though. It blinds them, makes them weak. That's why guys like Jason—or Ghostface—they always win for a while. People panic."

Amber thought about that. Panic made people sloppy. Panic made them forget the rules, the ones that could save them if they just stopped and thought. And there was something thrilling about knowing that—knowing that if you were the one who stayed calm, you had the upper hand.

"You don't seem like the type who panics," Ethan said quietly, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Neither do you," Amber replied, feeling that electric spark again, the one she felt whenever he spoke like this—dark, intense, like he was inviting her to explore a world most people shied away from.

They stood there, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. Amber felt closer to Ethan than she had to anyone in a long time. There was an understanding between them, a shared fascination with the darker aspects of life—and death—that went beyond a casual interest in horror films. It was like they saw the same twisted beauty in it all.

"You ever think about what it'd be like?" Ethan asked suddenly, his voice soft but laced with something dangerous. "To be the one on the other side? To not just watch, but… to be in control?"

Amber's pulse quickened, but she kept her voice steady. "What are you saying, Ethan?"

He smiled, stepping closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think you already know."

They stood like that for a moment, the question hanging between them. Amber could feel the adrenaline surging through her veins, not out of fear, but excitement. She did know what he meant. She had always known, from the moment they met, that there was something in him that called to her, something dark and alive, something that mirrored her own desires.

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. Ethan's eyebrows rose as she handed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Next Friday," she said. "Midnight. My place. We're watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Original version."

Ethan took the paper, his smile widening. "I'll be there."

As Ethan walked off into the night, Amber watched him go, a sense of anticipation growing in her chest. They weren't just bonding over horror anymore. This was something deeper, darker.

And she couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

It was a typical Woodsboro afternoon, and Amber was lounging in the booth of a small diner with her group of friends—Tara, Chad, Mindy, and Wes. The place had an old-timey feel, with red vinyl seats and chipped checkerboard tiles. They'd been coming here since high school, and it was their go-to spot after classes. A familiar routine that Amber tolerated, though she preferred the nights she spent with Ethan now. Still, she couldn't avoid her friends forever, and today she'd decided to bring him into the fold.

He was late, of course. Not by much, but enough to keep Amber's pulse buzzing with anticipation. She wasn't sure how her friends would take to him, or more importantly, how Ethan would handle them. He was different from anyone they knew, more intense, more thoughtful, with edges they didn't have. But that's what excited her.

Mindy was in the middle of passionately dissecting the rules of survival in horror films—again. Tara was listening with her usual amused smile, while Wes rolled his eyes but said nothing, content to pick at his fries. Chad was half-listening, checking his phone for some update on football practice.

"You've got to think about the killer's motivation, right?" Mindy continued, her hands animated. "If they're supernatural, like Michael or Jason, you don't fight them directly. You run. You survive. But if it's someone like Ghostface—someone human—you've got a chance if you're smart enough."

Tara leaned forward. "So, what's the best move, then? You know, if we were in a Scream movie?"

Mindy grinned. "Easy. Trust no one. Not even the people you think you know best."

Amber snorted at that, taking a sip of her soda. She caught Wes glancing at her, his eyes narrowing in that protective way he had about Tara, though he never said anything directly. He didn't like that Amber had been pulling away lately, especially as she'd gotten closer to Ethan, but he hadn't asked questions—yet.

The bell above the diner door jingled, and Amber looked up to see Ethan stride in. His presence was magnetic in a way she couldn't quite describe—there was a casual danger about him, like he was always a step ahead of everyone else. He locked eyes with her, smirking as he made his way over to the booth.

"Hey, guys," Amber said, nodding toward him. "This is Ethan."

Ethan slid into the booth beside her, his gaze sweeping across the group, assessing them. "Nice to finally meet you all. Amber's told me a lot."

Chad glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? All good, I hope."

Ethan's smile widened just a little. "Mostly."

There was an awkward pause, the kind that comes when a stranger enters a close-knit group. Amber noticed Tara giving Ethan a once-over, her usual friendly demeanor cautious. Mindy, however, was openly curious, studying Ethan like a new puzzle to figure out.

"So, Ethan," Mindy said, leaning forward with a grin. "You into horror movies too? It's kinda mandatory around here."

Ethan chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth. "Yeah, I'd say I'm more than into them."

Amber couldn't help but smirk at that. She knew Ethan didn't just like horror movies. He lived them in a way most people couldn't understand. And she liked that her friends had no idea just how much.

Mindy's eyes lit up. "Favorite slasher?"

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Psycho. Hitchcock nailed the psychology behind it. Norman Bates is the perfect mix of sympathetic and terrifying."

"That's a classic," Wes said, finally speaking up, though his tone was neutral. "But I've always preferred something with more… action. Like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Leatherface doesn't mess around."

Amber suppressed a smile, knowing that she and Ethan were supposed to watch Texas Chainsaw at her place later. "Chainsaw's definitely up there," she said. "But there's something about Norman Bates that feels more real. He could be anyone."

"Exactly," Ethan said, glancing at her. "You never see him coming until it's too late."

Mindy seemed satisfied with that answer and turned back to Tara, launching into a tangent about why psychological killers are scarier than monsters. But Amber could tell that Wes was still uneasy, his eyes flicking back to Ethan every few moments like he was trying to read him.

"So," Chad said, breaking the tension. "How'd you two meet?"

Amber opened her mouth to respond, but Ethan spoke first, his tone casual. "Coffee shop, actually. I needed a light, and Amber was kind enough to oblige."

"Typical," Amber muttered, giving Ethan a playful nudge. "He didn't even know what he was walking into."

Chad grinned. "Woodsboro's a weird place, man. Hope you're ready for it."

Ethan shrugged, unfazed. "I think I'll manage."

Tara finally spoke up, her voice softer but direct. "So, what do you do, Ethan?"

"I'm taking a break from school right now," Ethan said, leaning back. "Figuring things out."

Mindy's eyebrows rose. "Taking a break? That's code for something, right?"

Amber shot Mindy a look, but Ethan didn't seem bothered. "Let's just say I'm not in a rush to do what everyone else is doing. I like to take my time. Make my own path."

Mindy leaned back, satisfied. "I respect that."

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics—weekend plans, the usual gossip around Woodsboro—Amber felt a growing sense of anticipation for what was coming later. The watch party at her place wasn't just about The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. She knew Ethan wasn't just there for the movie. It was becoming clear to her that their shared interest in horror was more than just entertainment.

They saw things in those movies that others didn't. Things that spoke to something deeper inside them.

She glanced at Ethan, who met her gaze with that same dark intensity she was beginning to crave. There was an unspoken understanding between them, something her friends couldn't touch.

As the conversation swirled around them, Amber knew one thing for sure: Ethan wasn't just a passing fling or a casual new friend. He was someone who saw her for who she really was.

And soon, the others would see it too.

Amber flicked off the TV, the screen fading to black as the last credits of Halloween: Resurrection rolled away. The stack of empty soda cans and half-eaten snacks lay scattered on the table, the remnants of their horror marathon. They had watched every Halloween sequel, diving deeper into the increasingly convoluted mythology of Michael Myers. But now the room was quiet, save for the hum of the ceiling fan, and the stillness between Amber and Ethan seemed charged with something more than just exhaustion.

They had been spending nights like this for weeks—bonding over slasher films, analyzing every twist and trope, every killer's motive. But as the final movie ended, Amber could sense that they were standing at the edge of something else. Something darker.

"Michael was different in the beginning," Ethan said, his voice low, breaking the silence. He leaned back against the couch, eyes thoughtful but cold. "In the original, he had that mystery, that purpose. But the sequels watered him down. He stopped being the Shape and became a joke—just another monster for people to root against. Like they forgot what made him terrifying in the first place."

Amber nodded, staring at the blank TV screen. "He stopped winning. He kept coming back, sure, but only to get defeated again and again. After a while, people stopped being scared of him."

"Exactly." Ethan's voice sharpened, his intensity growing. "Movies need stakes. The killer has to win sometimes—or at least make it feel like they can. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Amber smirked, her fingers tracing the edge of a soda can. "And in real life, it's worse. Everyone expects the bad guys to lose. That's why they take risks. They think they can always escape."

Ethan's eyes darkened, and Amber felt the shift between them, that familiar electric spark that had drawn her to him from the start. Their conversations had always danced around the edges of something dangerous, but now it was clear they were stepping over the line.

"What if," Ethan began, his voice soft but loaded with intention, "someone rewrote the rules? What if the killer actually won—because they were smarter, more careful, more prepared? What if we did it right?"

Amber's heart raced, her pulse quickening at the suggestion. She leaned forward, her mind already buzzing with possibilities. "You mean… real life? Like us?"

"Why not?" Ethan met her gaze, his eyes gleaming. "We've spent all this time talking about how these killers mess up, how they could have won if they'd just been smarter. We know how they think, what works, and what doesn't. We could do it. We could be better."

Amber's pulse thrummed in her ears. She had thought about this before—fantasized about it, really. The idea of being in control, of being the one pulling the strings instead of just watching from the sidelines. But now, with Ethan sitting across from her, those thoughts felt more tangible, more possible. He was serious. And so was she.

"Movies," she said slowly, her voice steady, "need stakes. People watch because they want to feel fear, but deep down, they expect the good guys to win. What if they didn't?"

Ethan's lips curled into a dark smile. "Exactly. What if, for once, the killers didn't lose? What if they planned it so perfectly that no one could stop them? And what if we were the ones who made it happen?"

Amber leaned back, her mind racing with ideas, scenarios. She had always been fascinated by horror, not because she liked the violence itself, but because she admired the ones who could control it. The ones who could twist fear into power.

"We'd have to be smart about it," she said, her tone shifting into something more calculated. "We can't be like the killers in the movies, leaving clues or getting cocky. We'd have to be… invisible. No one could suspect us. We'd need to be methodical."

Ethan nodded, his expression sharpening as they fed off each other's thoughts. "We'd choose our targets carefully. People who deserve it, people no one would miss. But it has to be more than that. We need to create a story. Something that plays out like a perfect movie, with twists and tension."

"Right." Amber's fingers drummed against her knee. "We need to make people feel like they're in danger, but never let them know who's behind it. We'd play them like characters in our own slasher film."

"And when it's over?" Ethan asked, leaning forward. "We disappear. Just like Michael at the end of the first movie. No one ever knows it was us. We move on, leaving everyone terrified, wondering when it'll happen again."

Amber felt a chill of excitement run down her spine. It was audacious. Insane, even. But the more they talked, the more it made sense. They'd been studying this for years—how killers thought, how they acted, how they failed. But they wouldn't fail. They knew what to avoid.

"We'd have to keep it small," Amber said, thinking aloud. "At first, anyway. One person, maybe two, in a place no one would connect to us. But the story has to spread. We can't just kill them. We have to make it mean something. Leave clues—ones that lead nowhere."

Ethan grinned, that dark smile widening. "We'd be creating our own legacy. Our own mythology."

"And we make sure no one ever figures it out," Amber added, her voice firm. "No mistakes. We do it right, or we don't do it at all."

There was a long pause as they both sat there, the weight of what they were discussing sinking in. Amber could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the thrill of control, of power. This wasn't just a game anymore. This was real. And for the first time, she didn't just feel like someone watching from the sidelines.

She was in the movie now.

"Are you in?" Ethan asked, his voice low and serious. "Because if we do this, there's no going back. We play the game, and we play to win."

Amber looked into his eyes, seeing the same hunger, the same darkness she felt growing inside herself. The stakes were real now, but that's what made it exciting. That's what made it worth doing.

"I'm in," she said, her voice unwavering.

Ethan smiled, and in that moment, Amber knew they had crossed a line. They weren't just two horror fans anymore, dissecting movies and killers from the safety of their couch. They were becoming something more.

Something dangerous.

And they were going to win.