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I've never been a fan of horror - to be honest; I hate it.

Then why am I here?

I don't know. It was a spur of the moment idea. I was just minding my own business - scouring the shelves of an antique shop - but then I found a typewriter.

Nothing strange about that except for the fact that wedged between the sheets of paper was a ticket. A ticket to the rundown cinema just down the street. A ticket to a showing of a movie in room 237. The movie that I'm going to watch.

I turned up an hour early, more anxious than a fly trapped in a web. I could have turned back - I still can - but for some reason, I feel like I need to be here. I feel like I'm tied up in a string of fate.

Naturally, with an hour to spare I decided to watch the trailer for the movie I was going to be subjected to. Having been originally released in 1980, the graphics and editing were subpar to say the least. The fake blood looked little more realistic than the mouldy jam I have in my fridge and the deranged Jack could be up for a run for his money against my neighbour, Grady, who I swear looked a lot like the actor in the trailer.

Nonetheless, the trailer was more than successful in sending shivers down my spine and even with identifying as many flaws in the screenplay as I can, the short snippets of film have already raised more goosebumps than I've ever seen on Christmas goose. My teeth chatter in anticipation and I will myself to tremble forwards into the vast darkness of the cinema in search of my seat. I shouldn't be so scared. It's not too late to turn back. I just have to remember it's only a movie.

It's not real. Not as long as I'm separated from the It. Not as long as there's a screen between reality and fiction.

Suddenly, I feel my feet give way underneath me and-

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A scream escapes my throat as I slowly pick myself up. Scrambling to my feet, I put as much distance as I can between the dead bodies and I before I spiral back to the floor due to the sudden nausea of vertigo. My head comes crashing to the floor again, causing me to wince in response to the force applied to the blossoming bruise but as I pick myself up once more my vision fades, going static as the scene shifts before me.

I scream again but this time stay rooted to the spot. They were- they were- they were- no. No. They weren't. They weren't dead. They couldn't possibly have been. I mean, they're right here in the living flesh, right?

"Oh- no, sorry." I rub my eyes hoping to eradicate the twisted hallucination I just witnessed. "Do you happen to know wher-"

I blink once, twice, thrice. They're gone.

I shake my head with an amused smile. Great. These twins are pranksters. Nearly scared me half to death with their death stunt and now they suddenly disappear? A likely story... They're probably hiding around the corner ready to get the jump on me.

Standing up with a disgruntled sigh, I decide I'll play there game for a while. I don't know where I am or how I got here and I'm sure that if there are children around it won't be long before I find a responsible adult. It's strange though. I really can't remember how I got here or what I was doing before this but for some reason there is an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. So overwhelmingly so, it's almost terrifying.

"Little girls," I beckon as I round the corner towards an elevator. "Where are you?"

Wow. Now I sound like the creep. What's worse is now that I'm stuck at a dead end.

Suddenly, the elevator doors creak open and I breathe a sigh of relief. However, my gratitude is short lived as not a person but rather a liquid starts to seep from between the metal hinges. It's odour is wretched but before I have time to turn back a massive wave comes pouring out - a wave of death itself.

The tsunami of blood gushes over me, knocking me against the wall with more violence than a riptide. The air is knocked out of me and the sickening viscous fluid drains into my open mouth, choking me in the scarlet flood. Black spots swim within my vision and I have no energy to fight. I succumb to suffocation.

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Spluttering, I crack an eyelid open as I choke for a breath of fresh air. I have no time to take in my surroundings before I find a woman sitting opposite to me screaming at me.

Within a split second I realised two things. One - I wouldn't have the luxury to take my time to find out my I nearly drowned to death in an ocean of blood. Two - The woman opposite me isn't screaming at me; rather she is screaming with me. Three - I can't 'math' in short intervals of time. Four - I need to get out of here - FAST!

Within another split second, the stimulus goading our fear strikes again, splintering the fragile frame that separates the screaming woman and I from rather inevitable death. The axe strikes over and over again, scattering fragments of wood like shrapnel. Is this the end for me?

Finally, the last shard of wood fractures from the door and the most terrifying face I have ever seen peers through.

My heart threatens to jump out of my chest but a quick blink is all it takes to make me realise that there's a face even more terrifying.

I blink another time and my fear raises exponentially.

I blink again.

And again.

And again.

Each time I blink, the faces only get more and more hideous and I force my eyes shut to prevent them from burning frim the roullette of horror.

That is until they were pried open by absolute fear. The fear driven by the manic words slurred. The words that echoed insanity into the core of my very being.

As if by fate, a sound comes echoing from downstairs and the face of Hell pauses for a second. It blinks and then, being the titan of despair that it was, it left leaving a cavity of overwhelming exhaustion and gratitude. Not wanting to be overcautious or anything after the series of unfortunate events, I sit frozen in position merely allowing my spirit to return.

Each erratic breath of growing calmness feeds my body, a reservoir of hope. The strands of blood soaked clothing slowly stiffens, clotting into a cocoon of disgusting yet ambient closure, however, a small dart of my eyes proves that I am still not out of the deep end.

Although equally traumatised, the woman opposite still possess a knife - if the former is as true as the latter then that makes the situation all the worse. A crazed woman is a lot scarier than a sane one and even if this circus of illusions wishes to prove me wrong, I am more than willing to decline the ticket.

With a sharp intake of dread laced air, I jump to my feet, snapping the threads of complacency that tie me to certain doom. Taking advantage of the sudden startle, I crash through the final slithers of wood barely holding the door together and make a run for my life.

I don't make it far before I hear the woman behind me in hot pursuit. My lungs fill with  fire as I sprint around a corner and trap myself in a room, allowing myself to slide down against the door as I hear the woman run past screaming the same accursed name as the equally demented man from earlier.

I sit in wait until I'm sure the woman has well and truly created a berth between us before rising back to my feet, my legs still shaken from the close encounter. Propping myself against the frame I slowly turn the handle but it doesn't budge. Applying a bit more pressure and it stiffens still, refusing to give way. My impatience rising, I force my weight on to the ancient brass and expectedly is snaps under the stress.

Cursing under my breath, I fling the rusted metal towards the far side of the room which alerts a startled gasp from further within. Against my better instinct, I gravitate towards the sound before I find myself turning carmine and blinding myself behind cupped hands.

"Oh, ummm, I'm really sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to intrude."

My apology is swiftly met with a giggle and I back away to save myself further embarrassment. Nonetheless, the sound of dripping water accompanied by a growing cackle causes a finger to slip and my eyes widen between the cracks as the flesh seems to fall off the slender body which I once mistakenly laid eyes upon.

Decaying further and further each passing second, the nude woman's body rapidly entropies with wrinkles catalysing the ageing process. My slow steps backwards accelerate into an awkward flail as the hag approaches, her toothless grin twisted into cackle. She gets closer and closer, the sags dripping to the floor like acid leaving nothing behind save for the stench and innards of disease. A balding head and receding gums only amplifies the horrific expression but then she suddenly stops, crouches and withdraws something from behind her.

She jumps towards me, the portrait of doom itself, with a sharpened blade at the ready. I stumble backwards with my arms braced but just as I prepare for the inevitable, I slip in a stream of ruby and my head collides with the blood stained tiles.

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My teeth chatter but their words are swiftly caught up in a blizzard of frost as a gale of ice whips through my hair, threatening to snap the icicles at their roots. My hands quickly find themselves frozen to my elbows as I endure the snowstorm blanketing myself in the maze and I wonder if this is how I'll die. Not by twin ghosts, nor a zombie slasher but instead by the forces of nature...

I purse my chapped lips, regretting it instantly but not as much as jinxing myself just now. With a scream from within the haze up ahead, I suddenly wish that I would be killed by the elements but the only thing scarier than a child running towards you screaming bloody murder is the thing chasing it from behind.

"Danny? Daaannyyyy!"

The figure in the haze sings, the malice piercing through the howling blizzard with ease.

"Danny! Be a good boy and come here. Come here so I can chop you into teeny tiny little pieces!"

From within the haze I can just about make out a silvery glint but I don't wish to stay long enough to confirm my suspicions. With the snow already up to my calves, I find it difficult to tear my frozen soles from the ice bound floor but as the ace-swinging madman approaches faster and faster, a burst of adrenaline is all I need to rip my feet out of my shoes. The ice pin pricking the exposed flesh, I hop my way through the maze of frost capped hedges after the screaming child. The chased having become the chaser.

I chase my salvation - a screaming child - as fast as the snow will allow, my body numbing faster than the winds that race against my blood matted body. My sweat freezes instantly and as I wind through the maze after my messiah, I find myself transitioning from a sprint to a wade. The snow packs higher and higher and I swim my way through the layers, the hair slowly being torn from my body as they stick to the adjacent walls of snow. My lock on the child becomes increasingly scattered and the only thing inspiring me to pursue the slowest chase in world history is the heightened screams of the one pursuing me.

"Chop-chop! Chop-chop!"

The weathered voice proceeds its hoarse chants.

My muscles feel like they're on fire and the snow is so cold it burns. My skin pales, descending into a more violent tinge with each exasperated lunge into the white wasteland and I fear my body will fail before I make it out alive.

My fears being the self fulfilling prophecies that they are suddenly allow my loose footing to pierce against a stone painting the scenery with blotches of red before keeling over and turning towards the opposite direction. With my feelings numbed, I barely feel the excruciating pain of what at best can be called a broken ankle yet the shift in balance causes me to fall into the blanket of the Arctic.

I fall silently, the final springs of energy shrivelling up into the comfort of an icy death. Sinking into oblivion I hear the muffled screeches of the mad axe-man but I suppose my hopes will be realised; as the snow quickly forms a thin sheet over my body it won't be long before this nightmare is over.

I lie, still, the soothing numbness creeping down my spine incapacitating my nerve endings. My fingers twitch in final resignation and my sight slowly dims as its masked under the growing weight of the snow. My chest tightens as the air thins but even throughout my loss of senses I can't ignore the increasing heckles of the mad axe-man.

"Dannyyyyy! Daaannyyyyy!"

The sudden name stirs my last drops of morality and I realise even though I have found peace and am willing to die here, even though I have no idea where this place is and even though this living Hell hasn't got anything to do with me - 'Danny' is still but a child and I can't die peacefully knowing that child will be ground to mincemeat above my grave.

Raising myself from an icy grave, I reverse dive, scooping my way to the surface. Progress is slow albeit having mastered the art of shovelling ice-cream over the years and I worry as the threats of the mad axe-man diminish into history. Kicking the snow beneath me only compacts it further and if my body didn't burn enough before, my lungs now metamorphose under the extreme pressure and heat.

Eventually I, burst to the surface and I take a gasp not only to relieve myself but also from the sight before me. The snow had stopped, leaving nothing but a winter wonderland and a snowman like none other.

His eyes glazed over, the ice barely thick enough to encage the madness within and whiskers of decay sprout like stalagmites. The axe, thankfully unbloodied, rests statued in his icy grip and I take a sigh as the physical and emotional storm has seemingly come to pass.

But then the snowman vibrates. A crack slithers down the thin shell of ice before completely bursting open causing shrapnel of exploding ice spearing into my eye, blinding me from the current world.

✵

I break out in cold sweat as my eyelids flicker open. My breathing is shallow and fast and I can feel my heart quake against the fuzzy ground beneath. My clammy hands rush to my face as I crouch into a foetal position and I dare not whimper in case of-

I blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. But nothing happens...

Propping myself up onto my elbows, I cautiously sweep in my surroundings. An old raggedy carpet littered with popcorn kernels. Rows of ancient velvet plush chairs. A giant screen irradiating adverts back to back.

I clutch my sweat-drenched shirt over my heart as the pulsates die down and let out a nervous chuckle. Through a pounding headache, it slowly comes back to me. I'm in a cinema - not a hotel. I'm in reality - not a nightmare.

Shaking my head in hysterical shame, that must have been the worst trip I've ever been on if you'll excuse the pun. I can't believe it took me that long to realise it but it just felt so real - the reality but an illusion - the universe a mere hologram.

Picking myself up from the cinema floor, I shake the naseau away as best I can. I must be a lot more scared than I thought - I mean, who's ever heard of being nearly frightened to death before the adverts even end?

I take a deep breath. It wasn't real. Of course, it wasn't. It was just a sudden nightmare induced by an overactive imagination prior to a life-defining moment. It's not real and neither is the film. It's not real. Not as long as I'm separated from the It. Not as long as there's a screen between reality and fiction.

Taking my assigned seat, I rummage myself into a more comfortable position. Surprisingly my body aches and I wonder how long I was actually out for. It couldn't have been that long - after all... I'm still the only one in the cinema.

Glancing to the sides it's even weirder that nobody else is around. Just me. Me, myself and I. Am I too early?

Suddenly, the screen in front of me flickers and the adverts end apparently advertising picture frames.

The frame only stays on the screen for a second before a series of numbers replace them. The strange things is, they're numbers alright but for some reason, they seem to be backwards. I shrug. Perhaps it's a weird introduction.

The numbers count down from three in the old cinema style way.

3. 2. 1.

The screen flashes once more and my eyes widen in shock. On the screen isn't what I was expecting. On the screen is a row upon row of filled cinema seats. On the screen. On the other side of the screen-