Killer

The bright white spotlights were in his eyes. Dust felt like an exhibit in a zoo. Four faces – Nightmare, Dream, Horror and Cross – on the contrary, each with their own level of irritation and fear. All of them – unwitting participants in this farce called “Let’s date?”

But the worst thing was the waiting. Waiting for the Killer.

The music began to play, heralding his arrival. Dust glanced at the others' faces. Nightmare was frowning, his tentacles twitching nervously. Dream seemed to radiate optimism that was out of place in this situation. Horror was licking his lips, as if anticipating something terrible. And Cross... Cross just stared into space, broken.

The killer appeared. His unchanging grin, empty eye sockets. The music died down. The silence became oppressive.

"So, boys," sang Killer, his voice ominously sweet. "Who shall I choose today?"

The participants felt a cold sweat on their backs. This was not a game. This was a performance. And their fate depended on Killer's choice. They knew only one thing: they did not want to be next. The participants' hands involuntarily clenched into fists. There was not much time left to wait. The choice was almost made. (Choose who you want to be: Dust, Nightmare, Dream, Horror, Cross)

The killer wants to choose his lover.