𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 -𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

one | hello, tara

-ONE-

Okay, kids. First rule of scary movies is what? Don't be in the big house alone, right? Well, that's exactly how this is gonna start. Just one lesbian and a bisexual ambling about the big, empty house, ready to get drunk off their asses, making some pasta. So normal. But the calm always comes before the storm, they say.

The house was deathly quiet, the only sound breaking through the silence being the pasta sauce bubbling, and Reyna sitting on the kitchen island, baby-talking to her tarantula, who was lounging peacefully on her hand, crawling about occasionally. She'd managed to tame him completely after years of effort. He'd gotten used to being handled, but she was still careful about not petting or cuddling him.

"Okay, Criminal Minds or The Babadook?" Asked Tara, switching off the heat from the stove, letting the pasta settle a little.

"I have a feeling that this is a trick question," replied Reyna, letting her tarantula crawl up the sleeve of her leather jacket. "You obsess over The Babadook, and I, on the other hand, am more inclined to Criminal Minds. If I say The Babadook, you'll feel happy but I'll betray my favourite. If I say Criminal Minds, it'll offend you."

"You and your overthinking ass," laughed the brunette, "Elevated horror isn't your thing. You're more into the fucked-up psychological horror."

"Look, psychological horror is just so good. I mean, it's not the hodgepodge of jumpscares and VFX, it's real life shit which has happened and that isn't supernatural at all," replied the redhead, picking her spider up from her arm and holding him in her hand as her eyes stayed on him blankly. "Hindi psychological horror movies are lowkey the best. I mean, I learned the language by itself from one of my previous foster parents, but I think most Hindi psycho horror movies are tackling real life scenarios in a realistic way, and that makes it so much more fun and so much more fucked-up."

Tara laughed at her friend and said, "Okay, that's a good reasoning, I respect that. But come on, The Babadook is classic elevated horror. How can you not love that?"

"Because it's just--just so boring." Replied the girl, reaching into her boot with her free hand and pulling out a gleaming silver dagger, which reflected the light of the kitchen beautifully. She placed it down on the counter and added, "You still have the spare tarantula tank, right?"

"Yeah, living room. Mom hates it, though," chuckled Tara, pulling out her phone. "I'm gonna text Amber, see if she wants to come over. I got the key to Mom's liquor cabinet."

"You know it, Tae," the girl said with a short laugh, sliding off the counter and moving to the living room.

Reyna moved over to the plastic tarantula tank in the living room, which was kept in the ideal place, away from direct sunlight, and was perfectly well-kept.

"In you go, Jeff," said the girl, coaxing the hairy arachnid into the tank. "Stay right here."

Suddenly, the sound of the landline ringing echoed through the house, making her start in surprise. She heard Tara answer it, and motioned for her to put it on speaker the second the entered the kitchen.

"Hello?" Asked the brunette, confused as she answered the phone.

"Hello," came an unfamiliar voice. Tara took the phone rom her ear, frowning a little in confusion before putting it back again. "Is Christina there?"

Okay, I know. Don't pick up unless it's me, don't answer the door unless it's me, all that's pretty much been told by every mom to ever exist. Will Tara Carpenter listen to Christina Carpenter, though? Never.

While Tara and the unknown person talked, Reyna moved over and began sharpening her dagger with the sharpening tool used for the kitchen knives.

"She told me the other day, she wonders... what's your favorite scary movie?" The caller asked.

"The Babadook," answered the brunette, eyes on her friend who was still sharpening her dagger. "It's an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief."

"Isn't that a little fancy pants?" Asked the caller.

"Well, it's elevated horror," replied Tara, feeling a small, almost invisible blush creep up her cheeks as she watched her friend look at her reflection in the gleaming knife, using a thumb to fix her lip gloss.

"Uh-huh. What does that mean, "Elevated horror"?" Asked the caller, his voice changing slowly but subtly.

"It's scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinnings. It's not just some schlocky, cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares," explained the brunette, moving towards the knife holder.

"Sounds kind of boring to me," replied the caller. "Have you ever seen Stab?"

Tara moved the phone from her ear and mouthed 'What?' To her friend, who looked at her and nodded with a disappointed look. She normally didn't watch old scary movies, but Stab was just a pastime watch. "Once, I think. "At a sleepover when I was, like, 12.

"You live in Woodsboro and you don't know Stab?" Gasped the caller. "Your mother loves that movie. She talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?"

Tara leaned against the kitchen counter, shrugging, "I don't know. I mean, it was super '90s. It was really over-lit and everyone had weird hair."

"Do you remember the beginning?" He asked.

"Not really," replied Tara. "It started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene."

"Yeah, that's right. That's right," replied the caller, his voice crackly, gravelly, and low, sending chills down both girls' spines. "It's a girl at home, alone, with her psycho friend, just chilling together. The girl answers a wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game."

"Would you both like to play a game...Reyna and Tara?" The killer asked, his voice stressing ominously on their names.

And it was at this moment we knew...we fucked up.

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DUNDUNDUNNNNNN

I hope you liked this chapter!

Question: Opinion on the new writing style?

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With love and hugs,
Sage