For Halloween, I’m going to write you a sexy, spooky, and interactive story.
As you read along, you’ll be asked to pick a monster as either A or B, then carry that guy forward through the story.
Please read and enjoy.
As clouds shaped like witches crawl across the moon, you dash up a cobbled path. A single gate creaks off its hinges, leaves flickering through the gaps on the sharp breeze. Wrapping a coat tight to your shoulders, you shove open the gate and run up the cracked sidewalk to a giant, crumbling mansion.
Despite dread lingering in the air, the cold October night causes you to raise your fist. Just as you’re about to knock, the door flies open and you’re faced with…
Choose A or B.
The vampire smiles wickedly, displaying both fangs at once. You cannot run, your body trembling so much your knees give out. Before you can hit the floor, strong arms scoop you up and carry you deeper inside the house. The vampire’s scent of rich turkish oils and dark amber sends your head swirling. He gazes down at you safe in his arms, his eyes reflecting the flicker of the candle light along the wall.
He pushes open a door to reveal a parlor for a woman who was stood up at the altar in the 1800s. A crimson settee rests beside a fireplace, where a woman all in white gazes across the room from her bridal portrait. You gulp, the face in the paint startlingly familiar.
The vampire tugs back a fallen lock of your hair, his long nails gracing the thin skin of your neck. Pulling in a breath, you look past him to the dusty gauze dangling off the windows, and gazing at the moon is…
Choose A or B.
The werewolf, stripped to nothing but a thin loincloth clinging to his body, saunters over. As the vampire lowers you to the red couch, the werewolf leans closer. He pulls in a deep whiff of your hair and his eyes shift red. His mouth opens, revealing a row of sharp teeth and his tongue twisting in anticipation.
“Not yet,” the vampire says, grabbing the wolf by his shoulder. “We have to wait for the others.”
A loud crash shatters from the floor below your feet. You sit up, prepared to dash for the exit and run out into the night, when the door slams open and in walks…
Choose A or B.
Frankenstein stumbles into the room, his body wrapped up with extension cords. Both the vampire and werewolf help to untangle him, their hands pawing everywhere. The monster is dressed in a sharp, svelte suit, revealing his chest where a massive scar of ragged stitches runs the length of his sternum.
“Not going well?” the werewolf asks.
But Frankenstein is fixated on you knotting your jacket ends in your hands. With great steps thanks to his massive feet, he strides to you. Long fingers lock along your shoulders and help you out of your coat.
Three monsters gaze in wonder at your body, the vampire the least subtle as he lingers around your décolletage. He catches your eye and winks. The werewolf licks his lips while Frankie moves to hang your coat up but fully misses the hook. His attention was too distracted.
Another crash echoes through the house, this one metallic and numerous. The monsters sigh.
“Should we help him?” Frankie asks. He takes your hand in his, his entire fist swallowing yours up. The other two trail behind as he leads you down the hall. He opens a door onto the kitchen and standing over the counter with a cleaver in hand is…
Choose A or B.
Eyes blazing, red juices dripping down the sharp edge, the zombie turns to you. You gulp, but there’s no running past Frankenstein or the other monsters as they corral you into the old kitchen. Black cauldrons dangle from the pot rack above your heads and fires burst out of the stove’s burners.
“Look at what we found,” the werewolf says, pointing at you.
The vampire leans closer, a hand curling around your throat as he declares, “Dessert.”
“Then why am I bothering with all these strawberries?” the zombie complains. He steps aside to reveal a cheesecake with a dark chocolate ganache dripping down the sides. Five ruby red strawberries adorn the top. Sighing, the zombie slams the cleaver through the cheesecake, slicing it fully in half.
“Frankie, grab the snacks,” the zombie says, pointing to a stainless steel fridge. “Drac, the booze?”
“You know I don’t drink…wine.”
“I’ll take our new victim to see the host.” The zombie wraps his hands around you, the chill of his body setting off goosebumps. You’re in his thrall as he shambles you toward the basement.
What do these monsters want with you? Will you last night night? Who waits inside the basement?
You stumble down the stairs with the zombie, cold as the grave, on your heels. Soft classical music lingers around the darkened staircase and you’re drawn to it. As you descend into a room of golds and crimsons, candelabras hanging from the walls, you spot a piano. A man wearing an all white mask gilded in filagree tickles a sweet tune from the keys.
“My lord, our last guest has arrived,” the zombie says while lingering behind you.
The song ends, and the man at the piano raises his hand. He cups the mask and plucks it from his face. As the gold ribbons unfurl, he turns to you and it’s…
Choose A or B.
“Welcome, my love,” Lucifer declares, rising from the piano. He takes your hand and presses his blazing hot lips to your knuckle.
“Wh…where am I?”
The stairs creak behind you, the werewolf and vampire arriving with masks knotted around their faces.
“Don’t you remember, my lovely?” the vampire purrs, a hand caressing your shoulder, his thumb glancing against the tender skin of your neck and down across your collarbone.
Another hand lands on your hip, the werewolf locking his claws around you possessively and tugging you back to him. “Where you’re supposed to be.”
“What…?” You gulp as the last member of the house arrives, a silver platter filled with tiny cakes in his massive hands. “What are you going to do with me?”
Frankie balances the platter in one hand and picks a single cake red as blood up in his fingers. He brushes the petit four against your lips, crumbs of black cherry dripping against your tongue. You part your mouth and bite on the creamy, rich cake. The dark chocolate and cherry melt down your throat.
Half of the cake breaks apart, about to fall, and you catch it in your hand. The zombie takes your palm and, raising it to his lips, sucks on your finger.
“My dear,” Lucifer purrs in your ear. A mask slips over your face, the devil knotting it on. “The one thing we’ve wanted this entire year.”
A smile rises on your lips as you gaze at the vampire, werewolf, Frankenstein, zombie, and devil clinging to your body. The memories return of an eternal walk from the crash, a friendless cemetery, and the men who found you and saved you from a lonely grave. Wrapping your hands around each of the men, you declare as the lights descend, “The monster mash.”