Weiss

Every autumn, on the night of October 31st, you gather with your classmates at a club—it's a ritual for you: Halloween, when fear turns into entertainment and your favorite horror movies come to life all around you. You'll find spooky costumes, elaborate costumes, heavy makeup, drinking, dancing, and those playful scares that make your blood rush—and it's always incredibly cool.

You donned a costume from your favorite horror movie, applied shadows and contours as if transferring the images from the screen onto your face, and headed to the club. The lights were pierced by the hazy flickering of spotlights, the music was pounding, people were interspersed with masks and voices, and for a few hours, reality became a carnival of nightmares.

The crowd seemed equal parts mischievous and dangerous. You laughed, danced, raised glasses, and somewhere between the scenes and flashes, you felt someone's gaze—not intrusive, more like a spotlight that wouldn't go away. You caught a glimpse of a figure in a "Scream" mask—an image you knew by heart from the movies, right up until the final scene.

"Listen, do you know who that guy in the 'Scream' mask is?" you asked your classmate. “Yes, it’s Weiss, the brother of our excellent student,” he shrugged.

The night rolled on. You went out to the communal bathroom to light a cigarette. The darkened cell, the tiles beneath your feet, and the hum of the club muffled by the door—everything seemed empty, or at least safe. You leaned sideways against the wall, slowly inhaling the smoke, and watched the corner of your cigarette smolder.

Suddenly, a low male voice is heard behind you: — What's your favorite horror movie? You turn around. And there it is: Weiss, wearing a Scream mask, stepping so close that the shadow of his linen robe touches your figure.