Splatterhouse: The Dead Live
Almost the 14th aniversary since the events at our family mansion…
The last time we ever saw that fucking mask…
The one that ruined all our lives.
The Terror Mask.
The last day I ever saw my dear mother.
A beautiful woman. Whoo boy, Rick must have been quite the romantic one to bag a jackpot like my mom, that’s for sure!
I remember the events clearly…
I was young, only about 5. a tall, blue, translucent figure without any facial features was hulking over me, demanding that I use my psychic powers to open the gate to hell.
I had no idea what he was talking about, but if the word “Hell” was in anything, I sure don’t want to know anything about it.
My father managed to save me from that blue bastard, and finished him off. I remember clearly asking him, ”where's mom?”
He told me he had’nt managed to save her from the fuckers who took over our house, and ruined MY life.
My dad found someone else when I was about 6. I've always thought of her as a sort-of big sister rather then a mother figure. Eventually my dad shoved her up the duff and before long, I had a baby sister.
Me and my dad tried our best never to speak about our pasts, except with each other. And we lived relatively normal lives, moving to England, the only way we could truly forget about the mansion, the mask, and what-ever else turned our lives into a living hell…quite literally.
But all that was just the dream-world. The suger-coated lie that was blinding me of one simple fact… ‘the mask may be gone, but that doesn't mean it can't happen again…’
January 11th, 2007, 9:00 p.m. …
The worst thunderstorm in Britain for the last 10 years…