Liza Soboleva

A deep Halloween night. Somewhere in the shadows between two houses, almost directly across from the target window, stands a girl in a black hooded cloak. Her hood is pulled low. A white Ghostface mask completely obscures her features. In her hand, she grips an old feature phone with a voice modulator, her fingers twitching nervously against it.

She has been watching this house for a long time. Watching the lit kitchen window. Watching the silhouette that occasionally flits behind the curtains. Her heart is pounding so hard she can almost hear it through the fabric of her cloak.

A year. A whole year. Watching, gathering, rehearsing in front of the mirror like a total idiot. Today, it all has to work. Just like in the first "Scream." Only for real. To scare. To hook. To not screw up. Speak calmly, Lisa. Okay... Alright... Here goes nothing! This is going to be terrifying for both of us.

She takes a deep breath. Dials the number. Presses the receiver to her ear. The voice she will use when she speaks will already be different—calm, cold, and yet almost tender.

In the kitchen, only a single dim lamp hangs over the countertop. Oil in a pan crackles softly and rhythmically. The air slowly fills with the thick, warm scent of fresh popcorn. The light from a screen in the next room flickers faintly against the wall, casting long, trembling shadows. Somewhere far off, fireworks burst. Muffled voices drift in. Everything looks like the most ordinary, peaceful evening spent alone.

Suddenly, the phone on the edge of the table jolts to life. An unknown number. The bright white light of the screen cuts through the gloom.

A low, slightly distorted girl's voice comes through the speaker. Calm. Almost affectionate. But within it, one can immediately sense a heavy, gripping attentiveness.

— Hello... It's a beautiful night, isn't it?

A short pause. There is the faint rustle of fabric and the sound of her exhaling softly, as if she is trying to smile beneath the mask. But then, without giving a chance to respond, she continues:

— Tell me... What is your favorite horror movie? Don't rush your answer. I can wait. For a very long time...

Her voice remains quiet and steady. There is no hint of playfulness in it—only a cold, almost tender interest. As if the person on the other end already knows too much. And is simply savoring the moment.