You're on National Television!!!

A short horror story inspired after attending a live reading from British horror writer Ramsey Campbell.

Slowly walking through the park Alex has an icecream in hand. Licking it tenderly while softly caressing it with the tongue is how the icecream is ate. The actions although overtly sexual are fine because this part of the park is quiet. There isn’t really anyone around. The way the icecream is being eaten is part of fantasizing about Cherry. It’s about imagining the way Cherry would eat an icecream cone when no one else was around.

“I bet Cherry would imagine it to be something naughty, like an erect penis, and that there would be light licking, kissing, and pecking at it” Alex thinks about it while licking the icecream tenderly and softly caressing with the tongue; mimicking the imagined licking.

There is no doubt with Alex that Cherry wouldn’t be able to contain those voracious eyes.

“Cherry would gobble it up in no time, gulping down all that…”

Alex coughs and swallows, feeling flustered by the thought.

“Cherry would imagine such filthy things sucking on lollipops, ice cream, or bottles of beer! Probably has such sexy thought as placing anything into the mouth. Those fucking beautiful lips!”

The ice cream and the mental masturbation are making Alex salivate. Feeling perverse, Alex checks to see that no one is around.

“There really isn’t anyone around” Alex concludes as a person who looks like a TV presenter jumps out from behind a hedge.

Alex doesn’t have time to register what is happening. The TV presenter pulls out a gun and aims it at Alex. The ice cream falls to the floor as its once owner and holder of the icecream stands frozen in fear.

“Don’t worry! You’re on national television!” the TV presenter shouts with the real McCoy false voice of a television presenter.

Alex sighs with relief and smiles as the bullet cuts through the front of the stomach and out the back.

“Don’t worry! You’re on national television!” the TV presenter shouts reassuredly.

Looking up from the ground Alex is sure that there was a loud bang, and that there was indeed a bullet fired. The pain is agonising.

“Blu-uehh” Alex tries to speak but spits up blood instead.

“You’re on national television! What’s your name?”

“Alex” Alex says trying to look up at the TV presenter.

The TV presenter looms over like a dark unwelcome intruder.

“How does it feel?” the TV presenter asks, shoving something into Alex’s face which may or may not be a microphone.

“I’ve been shot!” Alex screams with a sharp metallic grate.

The TV presenter laughs manically “Like you’ve been shot?! HA ha ha! Don’t worry you’re on national television!”

“What?!” Alex questions lying limply on the ground, barely able to see or hear anything.

“You’re on national television! How does it feel?”

“I’ve been shot!” Alex screams once again while spitting up blood.

“Oh don’t worry about that! You’re on national television. Your parents put us up to this Alex! See! I know your name! And don’t worry about ‘being shot’, that was all set up by our CGI and make up team. We used a taser to stun you, so you are feeling the exact way you should be feeling!”

“What? Really?” Alex asks with a crooked smile.

“In a few minutes you will be able to stand! Meet your parents and collect your prize!”

“I won!?” Alex questions in a dark delirium.

“And you’ll never guess the twist! You are in the studio right now! Isn’t that right audience? Give him a round of an applause!”

Alex hears clapping. Everything is blurry. It is impossible to see that it is just the TV presenter clapping in a way to make it seem like a crowd.

The clapping continues as the presenter places what may or may not be a microphone towards Alex’s face

“You’re on national telelvision! How does it feel?” the TV presenter asks once again.

Alex laughs manically “Ha ha ha ha ha ha! It feels good. You know I really thought I was dying! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Suddenly the clapping stops.

“Well that’s all we’ve got time for folks. See you again next week!” the TV presenter says.

Alex expects the TV presenter to say something, but all there is to hear is the sound of lone feet walking away.
Fear begins to slide its way back into Alex as everything grows dark.
The half conscious dying Alex is watched by a dog.

Alex’s last words are “…I’m on television… where’s the audience?… I’m on television… it’s so real...”

@RiskDebonair
Writer, Poet, and Lover