Buried

The screening room was restless, even though the lights had dimmed, the faint rustling sound persisted. For the audience, not only was it unexpected for the premiere of "Buried Alive" to be so lively, but it was also surprising to see it fully packed with some audience members unable to enter the venue. For an independent film lacking in promotion and gimmicks, this was truly remarkable, leaving everyone somewhat excited.

Renly couldn't help but feel annoyed because he knew the film had started properly from the first scene. If the audience continued to be noisy, they would miss important scenes. Nervousness, anxiety, and anticipation mingled together; he clenched and then loosened his fist, but couldn't resist standing up abruptly, shouting, "Quiet, please! The movie is about to start, could you please be quiet?"

After his outburst, Renly sat back down, his heart pounding against his chest. His action had been bold, to say the least. Unexpectedly, the restlessness in the screening room gradually subsided—the Canadian politeness lived up to its reputation.

Gavin watched the opening credits attentively, not recognizing any of the companies mentioned, not even the names. It was a truly independent film. After the opening credits, the screen fell into darkness. Gavin adjusted his posture, getting into the viewing mode. Ten seconds passed in silence, then twenty, then thirty...

Gavin looked around, wondering if there was a problem with the film reel or the projection equipment. Thirty seconds after the opening credits, there was complete silence, just a blank screen—it seemed like a projection failure! How was this possible?

Although "Buried Alive" was an independent film, the organizers' lack of attention and the projection failure were too much to bear.

Feeling aggrieved, Gavin felt compelled to speak up for the "Buried Alive" crew. There were no sounds in the screening room, but the audience's doubts were palpable. Everyone looked around, the friction between clothes and seats creating a subtle noise in the darkness, disrupting the viewing experience.

A breath was heard in the screening room, faint and suppressed.

Gavin initially thought it was something his journalist colleagues had noticed and looked around, only to realize everyone was scanning the room. Then, the faint breath sounded again, as if someone was right beside Gavin's ear, struggling and in pain. Gavin froze, muscles tense, slowly turning his head towards the motionless screen—could the sound be coming from the surround sound system?

The suppressed breath grew more frantic, mingling with muffled coughs amidst the rapid breathing, gripping Gavin's attention. Not just Gavin, but the entire audience fell silent. In the pitch-black darkness, only the urgent breathing could be heard, enveloping everyone in its grip. The restless darkness seemed to bind everyone to their seats, muscles immobilized. Gavin, unable to move, watched in horror.

Thirty seconds passed. Gavin widened his eyes, motionless, as if time had frozen.

The striking sound of a lighter igniting made Gavin hold his breath. The faint flame illuminated a disheveled left eye, reflecting anxiety, fear, hesitation, surprise, and unease. Gavin's throat felt constricted.

As the rapid breaths collided with heartbeats, the feeble flame struggled to push back the dense darkness. Gavin witnessed a man bound with dirty cloth over his mouth, hands tied with rope, clutching a lighter. This man was trapped in a narrow space, struggling desperately.

The man tried to free himself by breaking the ropes with his elbows and shoulders, but to no avail. Gavin, spellbound, watched the man's struggle, feeling the cold grip of fear climbing up his spine.

Suddenly, the flame extinguished, plunging the world back into darkness. In the chaos, the man, now frantic, repeatedly attempted to relight the lighter, using every part of his body to break free. He removed the cloth from his mouth, leaving a deep red mark on his cheek, attempting to speak but only managing a single syllable, "Ah!" He screamed, calling for rescue, calling for help, calling for...

He couldn't even articulate "help," reverting to primal screams and pounding like a trapped animal. His struggles, futile, made his previous efforts seem ludicrous.

Gavin watched, transfixed, unable to blink, fearing he might miss a moment, no matter how brief.

Without any dialogue or unnecessary plot, the close-up portrayed the confined space and the man's emotions vividly, gripping the audience's every emotion. Gavin's mind blanked, his only thought: someone, please save him.

The man, regaining a shred of rationality, used a nail in the corner to cut the ropes binding his hands. He then used the lighter to illuminate the coffin-sized space, revealing his bleak surroundings. He exerted all his strength to push the lid with his shoulders, but it remained unmoved. His efforts were futile, like an ant trying to move a tree.

Anger, pain, and despair overwhelmed him. As the flame extinguished again, panic seized him. In the darkness, he screamed, kicked, and punched the walls, releasing his frustration, but desperation soon took over. He laughed, then cried, biting his lip to suppress his emotions.

Chanel's eyes widened, her heart seemingly stopped. She couldn't feel her heartbeat or the flow of blood, just staring blankly at the screen. The pitch-black screen held nothing, yet she felt the tangled emotions: horror mixed with fear, despair mingled with bitterness. She felt dragged into the depths of hell.

She had anticipated, imagined, and wondered what the finished film "Buried Alive" would be like. But in just ten minutes, from one darkness to another, with nothing but screams, the raw sense of peril shattered her defenses. She couldn't react.

She didn't want to miss a second of this film.

The vibration of a phone shattered the silence, its blue light flickering in the darkness, awakening both the hopeless man and the audience in the theater. Everyone sat up, curious and eager to see what would happen next. Whose phone was it? Could it be the man's chance to escape? What would happen next in the story?

The man struggled to reach the phone, a difficult task. Eventually, with great effort, he managed to kick it towards himself. Picking it up, he realized it was an old-fashioned flip phone, displaying Arabic text.

Arabic?

The man stared at the screen in disbelief. Arabic? It didn't make sense. What was happening?

As he grappled with the confusion, the audience in the screening room watched intently, waiting for the next twist in the story. Would the Arabic text provide a clue to the man's predicament? Was there someone trying to communicate with him?

With trembling hands, the man opened the phone, hoping for answers. The screen illuminated his face as he scrolled through the messages. Then, his expression changed. Fear etched deep lines on his face as he read the text.

In the darkness of the theater, the audience held their breath, their eyes glued to the screen. What message could be so terrifying?

Suddenly, the man let out a blood-curdling scream, his body convulsing with terror. The audience jumped in their seats, startled by his reaction. What had he seen?

The man dropped the phone, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He stared into the darkness, his mind racing with fear and confusion. What did it mean? What was going to happen to him?

As the tension in the theater reached its peak, the screen flickered to life once again. This time, a single word appeared in bold letters:

"RUN."

The audience gasped in horror, their hearts pounding in their chests. What kind of nightmare had they stumbled into? And would anyone make it out alive?

As the man in the coffin-sized box struggled to comprehend the message, the theater descended into chaos. People whispered frantically to each other, their eyes wide with fear. What was happening? Was it all part of the movie? Or something far more sinister?

But amidst the confusion and terror, one thing was clear: they were all trapped in this nightmare together, and the only way out was to run for their lives.

And with that chilling realization, the screen went black once again, plunging the theater into darkness.

In the silence that followed, the only sound was the rapid beating of hearts, echoing through the empty theater like a drumbeat of impending doom.

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Last week we had gained 241 powerstones guys and were on 49th position on 180 days list. This week we will beat all the other novels and gain the first rank ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠∧⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ

200 powerstones - 1 bonus chapter