I love survival horror stories. They're just so awesome. Why not make my own?

Because you're too busy watching Lost?

Rhetorical question, dumbass. As the preview said, this can contain OCs, but be warned: There is an extremely strong chance your OC will die in a horrible, horrible, yet slightly amusing, death. This is kind've like Harper's Island, if you've never seen it, good for you. Fuckload of death. Just what I like.

The prologue takes place ten years ago. I couldn't say much in the summary without giving away major plotlines.

Get on with it.

First, disclaimer time!

DISCLAIMER: I own nussing… NUSSING!

Thank you, DJ. On with the story!

Prologue…

9th February, 2000.

Ah, what fun. Nothing gets the blood pumping quite like hunting. For both the hunter and the hunted. God, it can be just the thing that keeps you alive.

Take this year's batch, for example. Small this time, mostly just drunken friends out partying. So drunk they didn't see my axe fly towards them until it was lodged right between their fucking eyes. Kids today.

But there's always a smart one in the group. One who realises that there is no hope, and I will give no mercy. That one I usually save for last, just because the extra terror of them knowing what's about to happen… And can do nothing to stop it.

This year's smart one nearly got away. The crafty bitch tried the old 'throw the rock in the other direction' trick, trying to trick me. I tricked her, though. Called her on her mobile phone. Listened for the ring tone. Ah, she thought she could hide in the bushes. The innocent are most amusing.

Oh, I didn't kill her straight away, no. First I chopped off her legs, then let her crawl for a while. Then I chopped off her arms, and forced her to watch me while I ate them in front of her. The bitch was screaming bloody murder, which only increased my bloodlust.

Then I heard police sirens. Confusion, I know. I blocked all calls out of the area, yet somehow she still called the police. I'm not sure how. She won't be telling me for sure. Can't say much if she had her tongue cut off, right? Oh, yeah, she died. But the police pigs were closing in. Alas, I had to hide. How long this time? Perhaps 5 years would be enough to forget all the murder…

… Then again, I have been killing for well over 20 years…

… Perhaps a decade would be better. Yes. Sure, by then all the blood will be forgotten, and I can have a new batch of victims, just begging for me to kill them quickly.

... But I won't. I'll enjoy their screams of pain, their cries of anguish…

… That reminds me, I need a new trophy room… This one's nearly full. I guess taking something from each victim wasn't such a great idea. 'specially if you do it for several decades…

… Then again, I need something to remember them. What's the use of killing if you can't go over the memories, re-living each to your heart's content? I'll give it a rest for now, the 'beast shall slumber' until further notice.

And when I awake, I am going to enjoy every blood-drenched second.

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Yep. Very nice, if I may say so myself.

Moron.

Douche. Review if you want to, and if you DO want your OC in the story, for fuck's sake say so in the review, or at least Private Message me. You know, whatever floats your boat.

~ DJ.

One will die every week…