Kill Mart

Welcome to Shop Till You Drop, a really wonderful place to shop.

Once known as a quaint neighborhood grocery store, Shop Till You Drop had become a popular haunt for residents searching for everything from fresh produce to household essentials. But little did they know that within the bustling aisles, a sinister presence lurked, waiting to unleash unimaginable terror upon its unsuspecting shoppers.

I’ve been working at Shop Till You Drop for the past five years. It’s a big supermarket located in the outskirts of town. The pay isn’t great, but it’s enough for me to make a living. Little did I know, my peaceful job would turn into a nightmare.

When you work in any profession there is always the chance that you can run into some type of dangerous situation, whether it is an accident which could cause injury and sometimes even death or there is a possibility that you could have a run-in with a dangerous and mentally unstable person who is looking for someone to take his anger out on. Normally this applies to high-risk occupations like police work, construction and so on. And as I would soon learn, retail would be no exception.

It was an ordinary Saturday morning when the man arrived at the grocery store. His disheveled appearance and the eerie glint in his eyes seemed to go unnoticed by the busy crowd. As he roamed the narrow aisles, gripping his cart with an uncanny intensity, a sense of unease settled upon those who crossed his path.

It was just like any other day. I debated whether or not I wanted to go in that day. I was feeling pretty nauseous. Eventually the nausea went away and I ultimately decided to go in. If I was really sick, I probably would not be telling this story. 

I arrived at work and began stocking the shelves as usual. As the day went on, I noticed a strange man lurking around the store. He had dark, beady eyes and a sinister grin on his face. I tried to ignore him, but something about him made my skin crawl.

I continued with my work, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease. Every time I looked up, the man seemed to be staring at me. I decided to tell my manager, but when I turned around, the man was gone. I brushed it off as my imagination and went back to work.

As the clock neared noon, the man’s behavior became increasingly erratic. He began to mutter to himself, his words garbled and devoid of meaning. His once vacant gaze transformed into a manic stare, focusing on random items as if possessed by some unknown force.

Chaos erupted when the man abruptly started overturning displays, sending products crashing to the floor. Shrieks and gasps filled the air as shoppers hurriedly fled in a desperate attempt to escape the escalating madness. But for those who remained, it became apparent that this was no ordinary act of vandalism.

Driven by an inexplicable rage, the man launched a relentless assault on anyone who dared to cross his path. He swung his cart like a weapon, causing injuries that ranged from bruises to broken bones. Panic gripped those still trapped within the grocery store’s confines, as they frantically searched for means of escape.

The store’s employees, trained to handle limited emergencies, were ill-equipped to handle such a horrific situation. They attempted to barricade themselves inside the manager’s office, seeking refuge from the bone-chilling screams echoing throughout the store. But the relentless man, fueled by an otherworldly strength, broke through their barricade and continued his rampage undeterred.

One by one, the man’s victims fell prey to his merciless brutality. Blood stained the once pristine floors, painting a macabre scene of horror that would forever haunt the memory of those fortunate enough to survive. Desperate phone calls to the authorities were made, but the response felt agonizingly slow, as time seemed to stretch amidst the terror, until he managed to cut the phone lines. 

I was trapped in the store with this maniac. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept muttering about how everyone deserved to die and how he was going to make sure it happened. I was shaking with fear, wondering how I was going to get out of this alive.

He came at me with the knife and started swiping at me with it. I was lucky he kept missing. As I ran, I knocked down displays and shelves to slow him down until I made my way to the backroom where the store received deliveries every day. There I could find a hiding spot and there I would have more options as far as defending myself went.

He entered the backroom, knife still in hand. I managed to hide behind the baler. I was able to grab the metal pole that we used whenever we had to make a bale. In my hiding place, I managed to get a hold of the metal pole we use to poke holes so we can put the wire through to tie the bale.

As he came closer to the baler, I realized that I had the element of surprise. The training videos we were shown when we were first hired said to defend ourselves only as a last resort.

And from my circumstances, this was a last resort.

As soon as he got closer, that was when I struck.

“Hey, asshole!,” I shouted as I swung the pole.

The first hit knocked the knife out of his hand. He tried to come after me again but I hit him again with the pole and down he went. He was out cold but still alive. 

Just then, I remembered the emergency exit at the back of the store. I slowly made my way towards it, trying not to catch the man’s attention. As soon as I reached the door, I ran out and didn’t stop until I was a safe distance away.

As the sun began to set, casting an eerie glow through the store’s windows, the man’s rampage finally came to an end. Exhausted, he collapsed to the floor, his body trembling with an unexplained energy. The sound of sirens grew louder as the police finally arrived, their flashing lights illuminating the trail of destruction left in the man’s wake.

They found the suspect unconscious but still alive and arrested him. It turned out that he was a former employee named Mikey Penn who had been fired for stealing. He had come back for revenge, and I was his main target.

I wasn’t sure why I was his target. I barely knew the man. Maybe he thought I witnessed him stealing and ratted him out to the manager. According to the police, he has a history of being manic depressive. Of course, I testified against him in court.

In the end, Mikey Penn ended up being put in an institution for the insane. He was way too unstable to be allowed back into society. That meant that my legal drama was over.

After that horrific experience, I quit my job at Shop Till You Drop. I just wanted to put all that behind me and I felt like I did a good job of that. However, every time I walk past the store, I can’t help but feel a shiver down my spine.  I never thought a simple trip to the grocery store would turn into a nightmare.

In the aftermath of that harrowing day, the Shop Till You Drop grocery store was forever marked by tragedy. The once vibrant community now lived in fear, their haven tainted by the echoes of that horrific rampage. 

And so, the tale of a horror story man who went on a rampage at Shop Till You Drop serves as a chilling reminder that evil can lurk within even the most familiar places, forever leaving a scar on the hearts and minds of those who bear witness to its terror.

The Subscriber

I have always been passionate about movies and sharing my thoughts on them. So, I started a YouTube channel where I review movies for my followers.  I went by the username Blackcatloner and I used an animated cat avatar instead of appearing in the flesh.  Little did I know, this would become my full-time job and I would gain a huge following.

To be honest, I wasn’t really planning to do YouTube videos but rather be a writer but the lure of reaching a wide audience was so great that I decided to try it. It was rough in the beginning, especially since video cameras cost money, not to mention editing software but in the end, it was all worth it.

One day, I decided to review a really bad movie from the 80’s that had a reputation for being a pretty bad movie that back in its day was ravaged by critics yet it gained a cult following. I decided to watch Love in a Dumpster. I heard from prior online critics how bad it was and the film had no redeemable value at all. So I decided to check it out for myself.

As the credits began to roll, I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me. Despite its abysmal 0 percent Rotten Tomatoes score, I had somehow found solace in the film’s sheer badness. It was as if the director had intentionally crafted a cinematic disaster, and I was grateful for the unintentional comedy it provided. Little did I know that my admiration for this so-called “masterpiece” would lead to an unlikely connection with a fan who would change my life forever.

“Avoid this movie like the plague!,” I shouted as I was recording the review. “THIS MOVIE SUCKS!”

After a few hours of editing and rendering the video, I uploaded to YouTube the next day. And almost immediately, the views started racking up.

My eyes wandered to the comments section, as they often did, searching for someone to share my twisted admiration for the film. And there she was, among the sea of hate-filled rants and sarcastic remarks: a lone comment that seemed to understand the beauty of the film’s failures. Her username was “FilmEnthusiast69,” and her comment read: “I give this film a solid 10/10. It’s so bad, it’s good.”

As I was uploading my latest movie review, I noticed a new comment from a user named FilmEnthusiast69. “Your review of ‘Love in a Dumpster’ had me cracking up! Finally, someone who gets how terrible that movie is!” 

I chuckled and replied, “Glad you enjoyed it! That movie was a dumpster fire, no pun intended.”

Before I knew it, FilmEnthusiast69 became a regular commenter on my videos, always adding insightful thoughts and funny remarks. Our banter was filled with shared laughter and sarcastic jabs at the worst movies. It was like having my own personal, witty co-host.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship with her. Despite the anonymity of the internet, I felt a connection to this mysterious individual who had seen the same things in the film that I had. I couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like, what her life was like, and if she would ever respond to my comment, which simply read: “I couldn’t agree more.”

Eventually she started flooding my comments section with more facts about the movie sprinkled with her own comments. I let her comment on it. It was her favorite review. And it was an added bonus to her that I uploaded the Love in a Dumpster review on her birthday.

One evening, a private message popped up on Instagram .”Hey, Blackcatloner, I’ve always appreciated your humor and honesty when it comes to movies. Maybe we can chat more about films sometime? My name is Emily by the way.”

I felt a rush of excitement and replied, “Absolutely! I’d love to talk movies with you.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. I responded immediately, sharing my real name and contact information. In short, I was breaking an unwritten YouTube rule about becoming too involved with a fan. To my surprise, she did the same. In fact, she seemed just as excited as I was to continue our conversation. We talked for hours on the phone, bonding over our shared love of terrible movies and our fascination with the art of creating something so intentionally bad.

Soon, our private chats turned into video calls, and our shared passion for cinema evolved into something more. We both confessed our feelings, and from that moment, we knew we were meant to be more than just online friends.

Months later, we finally met in person at a movie convention. We began meeting up at midnight screenings of movies we knew would be bad, laughing hysterically at the incompetent acting and poorly written dialogue. Eventually, we even started collaborating on film projects of our own. Emily’s passion for filmmaking was infectious, and her unique perspective on storytelling helped me grow as a content creator.

One day, out of the blue, Emily confessed her feelings for me. At first, I was taken aback. I had never considered her in a romantic light before. But as she spoke, I began to understand the depth of her feelings. Despite our initial connection over a bad movie, there was so much more to our relationship than that. We shared a love for the art of filmmaking, a twisted sense of humor, and a desire to create something truly unique and special.

Eventually, I found myself returning her feelings. We began dating, and our creative partnership only intensified. Together, we made films that were truly unlike anything else out there. They weren’t for everyone, but for those who understood our vision, they were nothing short of brilliant. And through it all, Emily remained by my side, supporting me every step of the way.

As I held her hand, I realized that the love we found through our shared interest in terrible films was the best plot twist I could have ever imagined.

Now, years later, we’ve made a name for ourselves in the indie film scene. Our movies are celebrated by a dedicated fanbase who appreciate our unique take on filmmaking. And even though we’ve moved past our shared obsession with bad movies, the connection we formed over that fateful screening will always be a part of our story. Because sometimes, the most unlikely of connections can lead to the most beautiful of relationships. 

That and sometimes unwritten rules were made to be broken.

Lady Liberty

It was a balmy summer evening, the air thick with the aroma of jasmine and the buzz of cicadas. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the sleepy town. I had decided to forego my usual routine and venture out for a stroll through the quiet streets, lost in my thoughts. As I wandered aimlessly, I found myself drawn to the familiar yet strangely alluring scent of lavender. Following my nose, I stumbled upon an unassuming laundromat, its neon sign flickering invitingly.

As I stepped inside, the scent of lavender intensified, mingling with the familiar tang of soap and dryer sheets. The place was deserted save for one lone figure, a woman clad in a flowing green dress, her long auburn hair tumbling loose about her shoulders. She was intently folding a mountain of freshly laundered linens, humming a haunting tune to herself. There was something familiar about her, yet I couldn’t quite place it.

My curiosity piqued, I mustered the courage to strike up a conversation. “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice the lavender scent. It’s lovely. Is that your favorite scent, or do you just enjoy using it here?” I asked, gesturing to the laundromat.

The woman looked up at me, her emerald green eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, hello there. Yes, I do rather enjoy lavender. It has a calming effect on me, you see. As for using it here, well, it’s become something of a tradition. This place has seen its fair share of interesting times, let me tell you.” Her voice was soft and melodic, like the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.

I must have looked confused, for she laughed lightly and explained. “You see, I used to work here, back in the day. This was my…my place, you could say. I made a name for myself, you know. People came from far and wide to see me.” She paused, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I was known as Lady Liberty.”

The revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning. I recognized her now. She was a legend, a figure of lore, the most sought-after sex worker the town had ever known. And yet, here she was, just another woman folding laundry in a quiet little laundromat. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” I stammered. “You’re…you’re Lady Liberty!”

The woman smiled, her emerald eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, yes. I was quite the sight back in the day, wasn’t I? All that lace and Liberty bell, waving to the world from atop my little platform. People used to say I was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.” She sighed wistfully. “But times change, and so do people.”

As she continued talking, I soon realized that I had seen this woman several months earlier at Shop Till You Drop, where I worked as a bagger.  She was working as a product demonstrator. Shop Till You Drop wasn’t the most glamorous job but it pays the bills and keeps me busy. As a bagger, I have the opportunity to interact with customers and get to know them a little bit.

I remembered talking to her when I wasn’t too busy and even for a middle-aged woman, she was incredibly attractive so it was hard to resist her. Back then, I never would have guessed she was who she was.

I couldn’t help but feel a little awestruck, being in the presence of such an icon. “How did you get started in this…line of work, if you will?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I mean, it’s not exactly the sort of thing you’d expect from someone like you.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes fixed on the laundry in her hands. “Oh, you’d be surprised what people will pay for a little bit of glamour and fantasy. I came from humble beginnings, just like anyone else. But I had this…this need to be seen, to be desired. And so I transformed myself into this…this symbol of freedom, of hope. And the people came running.” She shrugged, her expression distant, as if remembering a different time.

“It wasn’t all roses, of course. There were those who would take advantage, those who would try to twist my image for their own gain. But I persevered. I became a beacon, a symbol of resilience in a world that often tries to tear us down.” She paused, her gaze meeting mine again. “And now, here I am, folding laundry in a little laundromat. Life has a funny way of changing things, doesn’t it?”

I couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “But you don’t seem bitter about it,” I said, curious. “Most people in your position might resent the fact that they had to give it all up.”

Lady Liberty smiled gently and shook her head. “Oh, no. I don’t resent a thing. You see, I did what I had to do at the time. And now, I’m just happy to be able to live a quiet life, free from the spotlight. Besides, I’ve found other ways to make a difference, to leave my mark on the world. It’s not always about being in the center of attention, you know.”

She got up. “Come here,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

She suddenly disappeared into the back of the laundromat. I followed her out of curiosity and found her in a storage room, surrounded by costumes and props. She explained to me that she used to dress up as different characters while working as a sex worker, and showed me some of her costumes. I was amazed by her creativity and her confidence.

But the most surprising revelation came when she pulled out a Lady Liberty costume. She told me that this was her most requested costume and that she made quite a name for herself in the industry with it. I couldn’t help but laugh and admire her boldness.

As we talked and laughed, our conversation took a romantic turn. I couldn’t resist her charm and asked her out on a date. To my surprise, she said yes and we spent the rest of the afternoon together, getting to know each other on a deeper level. I even learned that her real name was in fact Liberty. We even managed to kiss. Her kiss was incredible and so was the lovemaking. She hadn’t lost her touch.

From that day on, Liberty and I became inseparable. She showed me a side of life I had never experienced before and I showed her a simple, genuine kind of love. We may have met at a grocery store, but it was in a laundromat where we truly connected and found love in the most unexpected place.

The world was full of unexpected twists and turns, just like the tangled path my life had taken so far. But somehow, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I would find a way to navigate them with grace and resilience. After all, I had Lady Liberty’s words echoing in my ears, reminding me that I was the master of my own fate, the author of my own story. And as I walked down the dusty road, my eyes fixed on the horizon, I knew that I would never forget that.

My encounter with Lady Liberty was the beginning of a new chapter in my own life. Whether this was true or not only time would tell. But for now, I was content to let the wind carry me wherever it might lead.