The Actor

Two weeks before premiere, we are still in the editing room editing away in this late October night, is this really happening?

"Watu gonna do, it's a thriller, they've gotta make H'oween weekend...", Sam has no family so he welcomes overtime. "... roll back alit' more".

Los Angeles autumn midnight can be cold, but never this cold. It feels like freezing temperature in here. The room is dark and we are under time pressure, it really is not fun.

"Wat up wif dis Srael guy? I heard he does his own make up..." Sam rolls back and forth the scene of the frail actor cutting up a little boy's bloody torso.

I don't gossip, although come to think about it, it is strange. Ah Srael, he calls himself, rarely speaks I heard. He came out of nowhere, did a few horror hits, and his face's just scary as hell. The producers love him cause he rakes in the dollars, but the talents and the staff all think he is bad news - five people died of freak accidents in his last three films, one was decapitated.

"... I mean, look at dat! His face looks like... ju hear dat?"

I heard that. Sounded like a giggle, sounded exactly like a giggle, from behind the shelf. Sam and I look at each other in disbelief. Someone has been in this 200 sq ft room for the last four hours and we didn't know? The room door is right next to us, it's not like someone could come in without us noticing.

"Who's there." I wish I heard wrong.

I did not.

There is what appears to be a fog build up next to the shelves and from it emerges Ah Sarel in a dark cloak and a machete in his hand.

"It's not make up that I put on, it's just skin." He says as he tears his face off.

I finally realize his name is Azrael, but I suppose it is too late.