The Game Lord

Tom pulled up to a dilapidated mansion in his beat up old Civic. This place was over an hour drive from the city and looking at it sent shivers down his spine. Norman Gates, the host of his favourite show, “Close Encounter of a Ghostly Kind”, approached his car. Tom rolled down his window.

“Welcome Tom! To the worse night of your LIFE!” A mic was pushed into his face.

Tom sat there starstruck. “Say something” Norman whispered.

“Uh, Uh, Uh, thank you. This place is terrifying!” All his witty lines forgotten.

“So, are you ready to make $20,000? The biggest prize in the history of the show!”

“Hell yeah!”

“Great, and all you have to do is spend ONE NIGHT in ‘The Slaughter House’.” He handed him a backpack. “In this bag you will find everything you need. A camera to record your experience, a single flashlight, and some snacks from our sponsors at 24/7 Convenience. Great for ALL your late-night cravings!”

He stepped back and motioned Tom out of the car. “Any last words to our viewers?” Mr. Gates asked in an ominous tone.

“Party at my house Tomorrow night! I’m gonna be $20,000 richer!” Tom yelled.

The host chuckled. “We will see about that.”

The cameraman motioned Tom towards the house.

“For all of you who don’t know, ‘The Slaughter House’ once belonged to notorious serial killer Steven Patterson, or as he referred to himself, The Game Lord. Famous for setting up deadly games for his victims to play, the house was a deadly maze and is located in the middle of nowhere. They found twenty-three bodies buried in the yard, but many suspect the number victims to be much higher than that. He went out in a hail of gunfire when police arrived at his door for a noise complaint. It wasn’t until then that his crimes were discovered. That all happened fifteen years ago, and it is now considered the most haunted house in the whole country! It was originally scheduled to be demolished, but thanks to a few concerned citizens it is now designated a heritage site.”

His explanation was timed perfectly to conclude when they arrived at the entrance. “Good luck young man” he said, as Tom opened the door.

One step in and he heard “and cut” from the cameraman.

Tom felt a hand on his shoulder. “Okay kid, you know the rules, right? No cell phone, no electronic devices, basically just you and what’s in the bag. Got it?” Norman’s voice seemed different now, quieter and less magnificent.

“Oh, right.” Tom reached into his pocket and handed the game show host his phone.

“Now, normally we would set something elaborate up beforehand, but we only got permission for one person to enter the house, so we will need you to spice it up a little. Keep the camera on, explore, and comment on everything you see and hear. We wanted to make the experience more exciting for you, but the owner is a little kookie.” He glanced over his shoulder. Tom followed his gaze and saw a tall slender figure in a black trench coat leaning against a tree. Smoke from a cigarette seem to hang around him in an unnatural way.

“He came by to make sure we follow all of his rules.” he said with a sigh.

The cameraman explained how to operate the small camcorder in the bag. There were a couple spare batteries, just in case, but he was told that one should be enough. The “flashlight” was actually an LED headlamp, so he could film and interact with things at the same time. He helped put the headlamp on, and then slapped Tom on the back. “See you in the morning kid!”

“Are you guys leaving?”

“Hell no, someone has to make sure you earn that $20,000! I’ll be watching the front door and we’ve got someone else watching the back. So, don’t get any smart ideas.”

A mix of fear and excitement coursed through Tom’s veins. He was so close to that grand prize he could taste it. Stepping in, he held out the camera to record what he saw. The headlamp showed a front entrance way that was filled with bookshelves. He was only a few paces in when the door slammed shut behind him. It made him jump, but it was just the sort of thing he would expect from his favourite show. A moment later he heard a little thump. Looking over, he saw a small book on the floor. The show must have found a way to rig this place up after all!

Tom picked up the book, the first page was ripped, but had something written on it:

“Beware! The ghosts of the victims of the Slaughter House want you dead. They will do all they can to murder you at every turn. If you follow my instructions you might survive. I am different, I do not want to mindlessly slaughter you. I want to…” The rest was torn out, but it was obvious what it was supposed to say: “I want to help you” or something to that effect. Tom did his best to hold the camera steady to record the words. He was excited, the show was pulling out all the stops.

He turned the page.

“Beware the chandelier.”

Tom looked up, then dove out of the way as a chandelier crashed down. Books suddenly began to fly off the shelves at him. He quickly ran to the next room, shutting the door behind him. A strong acrid smell assaulted his nose as he entered the next room.

Panting, Tom looked into the camera. “Are you really trying to kill me?” He yelled into the camera. Tom slumped to the floor. Out of the darkness he heard a ‘shling’ sound. Looking up, he saw a large metal blade across where he was just standing. “Holy shit!”

He opened the book to the next page. It said “Duck”, with a maze like diagram underneath.

As realization set in, he understood that this wasn’t some prank the show was pulling, someone was actually trying to kill him! He stops recording and pockets the camera. With the blade in the way, the door back wouldn’t open.

His ass suddenly felt damp, looking down he saw there was water on the floor and it was getting higher. Getting up, he found that the water made everything quite slippery. A quick scan of the room showed that it was made up of a number of corridors. The room was dark with no windows. Looking at the drawing, it seemed to be a map of the room. Some places on the map had ‘x’s drawn on them. Tom decided to avoid all of the ‘x’s. The water was up to his ankles by the time Tom got across the maze, but there was an ‘x’ drawn right in front of the door on the map.

Unsure what he was dealing with, Tom threw his bag on the ground near the door. A Large ‘X’ shaped blade launched out of the floor, shredding the bag. There was just enough space to squeeze between the blades and the wall on one side. His foot slipped as he rounded the blade, he felt a sharp pain as he reached out to catch himself. He clutched his hand in pain, and a quick peak showed that he had lost his little finger. It took him a few moments of cursing and holding his injury to collect himself. Ripping off a piece of his shirt, he bandaged his wound. Then turned his attention to the water to find the missing finger, but he couldn’t see anything. Whatever was filling the room wasn’t clear, maybe it wasn’t water. Blood? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to stay and find out.

His outreached hand stopped before it touched the doorknob. Instead, he pulled out the little black book and turned to the next page, careful not to get blood all over it.

“UP. Don’t lose your balance and try not to get hit.”

Tom frowned at the cryptic message, then opened the door. It was a room the size of a broom closet, the liquid was in here too. At the far end of the room was a beat-up wooden ladder. Tom scanned the room, there were exposed wires sticking out of the wall a few inches above the liquid, but nothing else. He carefully dashed across the room, but nothing happened.

Climbing the ladder prove to be a task, between the broken rungs and his wound. The assent was long, and took him to another broom closet sized room. The far wall was missing a door. Through the opening was a beam, on either side of the beam was a large drop. He saw the maze room below him and the thick dark liquid was everywhere.

The beam looked to be a typical 4x4, barely wide enough to walk across. However, it seemed like he had finally found a safe place to rest. There was no reason to cross the plank, he could just wait here for someone to rescue him. No sooner had the thought occurred to him when he heard a loud popping sound, and the rancid smell grew smoky. Looking down the ladder, he saw flames. That hadn’t been blood he was walking through, it was something flammable. Thick black smoke started to fill the air and he began to cough. He had to get out of here fast and there was only one way to go.

He walked towards the beam. The heat was nearly unbearable, but he pushed forward anyways. Then between coughs he heard a sound, whoosh. Tom held his breath and listened, another whoosh. He tried to look for what it was, but black smoke obstructed his view. He carefully inched forward and was suddenly thrown to the left, pain erupted across the right side of his face. Tom was able to catch hold of the beam as he fell, feet dangling over the fire, he looked up. Something blurred past the light of the headlamp, but he couldn’t make out what.

Struggling he dragged himself back up, careful to keep his head below whatever was swinging by him. Coughing, head spinning, and his right eye swollen, shut he crawled across the rest of the beam. He was hot, his face stung, and the smoke was making it hard to breathe or see, but somehow he managed to get across. The far side looked much like the place he had come from. For a moment he thought he had gotten turned around, but then realized there was a door here. Carefully he crawled across the floor, a mix of fear and exhaustion keeping him from standing. The room started to spin as he reached for the doorknob. Gripping it tightly, he turned it.

He flopped himself into the room shutting the door behind him. He sat there for a moment before he remembered the book. Scurrying to the corner of the room he pulled out the book and opened it to the next page. It was blank. Confused, Tom searched the rest of the book, taped to one of the middle pages he found a torn piece of paper. Tom recognized it as the missing part of the first page. Putting it together he read the message.

“I am different, I do not want to mindlessly slaughter you. I want to play with you first. Now let the games begin!” The bottom was signed “The Game Lord”

A noise caught Tom’s attention. He looked up, a tall slender man in a black trench coat stood a few feet away, staring at him. In one hand was a large hunting knife, the other held the severed head of the cameraman.

“Congratulations Tom, you’ve made it to the final round!”