Here’s today’s writing prompt:
“You’re mysteriously trapped in a cheesy sitcom with a seemingly random laugh track. After a string of murders, it becomes apparent that the laugh track signals when the killer is near.”
I finally figured it out. It’s taken me, I don’t know, ten days now. But I figured it out. It’s the laugh track. That’s how I know he’s here.
First, he got Stacy. I really liked her. Just like me, she had no idea how she wound up here. Was this all some sick joke? Or are we guinea pigs in the new future of entertainment? Either way, I will never sign up for any “experimental psychology studies” without reading the fine print again, no matter how much they say they are going to pay me.
At first, there were ten of us. Now there are only four left. Stacy, Adam, Daniel, Michelle, Holly, and Mark. All gone. Murdered. By him. But I know how to stop him now. I figured out the secret to this place. I just need to find the others so I can tell them. We all split up once he got Mark. We couldn’t trust each other anymore, which is understandable.
I honestly thought that Mark was the one doing it. He was always a little weird since we’ve been trapped in here. Too serene. Like he was happy to be in here or something. That’s why, when we split up, I decided to follow him. He made straight for the junkyard. Really a pretty dumb place to hide if a serial killer is chasing you if you ask me. It only added to my suspicion of him.
When he got to the junkyard he started to make camp in an old abandoned bus. As he stepped into the bus his foot slipped and he banged his knee on one of the steps.
“Fuck me twice” he yelled.
Apparently, it was a good line, because the laugh track kicked in. The laugh track has been a part of this nightmare since day one. I don’t know if it comes from some speakers hidden around us, or if they implanted something in our heads or what, but we all hear it. Whenever someone says something witty or self-depreciating or just a good use of swear words, the laugh track goes off. It just adds to the twisted nature of this whole “study”. I have to hand it to them, they know how to break us down.
As the laugh track from Mark’s zippy one-liner faded, I saw him. Approaching from the back of the bus. It was a very tall, thin looking figure. It was too dark to make out any features, but by his stature, I knew it was a man. I froze in terror.
The figure crept along the side of the bus. Closer to the door. Mark was in there fiddling with his shoelaces or something.
Finally, I screamed out, “Mark, get the fuck out of there!”
It was too late, the figure crept through the entrance of the bus. I ran in the opposite direction. I know it was cowardly, but I’m not a hero. I’m just trapped here like everyone else. I heard Mark scream in the distance.
That’s how I figured it out. I know how the killer finds us. It’s the laugh track. He somehow uses it to find us. This place really is sick. I just needed to find everyone else and tell them. Then we could make a plan.
“I got you figured out, you son of a bitch,” I said aloud. I don’t know what possessed me to say it, it just slipped out of my mouth.
The laugh track roared in my ears.