Chapter #4The Legion's Julie by: Sly F   Your camping trip with your friends was over and you were all going your separate ways home. The sun was setting when you started leaving camp, but you'd assured yourself you still had plenty of time. But you made a couple wrong turns without realizing it, and you became lost. That's how you came to be where you are now, all alone in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night.
As you continue slowly creeping though the woods, trying to find your way back to the right path in only the moonlight, you think about all the rumors you've heard about killers who are said to stalk these woods. And the stories you are the most frightened by are the stories of Frankie, Julie, Susie, and Joey, known collectively as "The Legion."
They were young adults in a small town. Frankie was a troubled foster child. Julie was a beautiful, popular social butterfly who took a shining to him and started inviting him to all her parties, where she introduced him to her friends Susie and Joey. The four were bored and looking for trouble, spending their spare time running around together and terrorizing their town with all kinds of delinquent acts.
Then one night they broke into what they thought was a deserted convenience store, and they found a nighttime janitor in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They each took their turn stabbing him, at that moment graduating from vandals and petty thieves to bloodthirsty murderers.
But surely that was all just an urban legend. Right?
Crrrack!
You jump at the sound of a tree branch snapping and barely stop yourself from screaming out loud. You hold your breath and look around, trying to see where the sound came from.
You turn and see someone standing under the trees nearby. Her bright outfit stands out in the darkness. Scarlet leather pants, skin-tight around thick round haunches, leaving very little to the imagination. The small of her back is exposed, covered only in a smear of bone white body paint. Above that she is wearing a small black leather top laced up down her spine, with frilly decorative fringe and one puffy, decorative sleeve, with the other torn off. A long, shimmery head scarf drapes down her neck, black and covered in gold-leaf illustrations of skull and crossbones.
You almost call out to her, until you spot the sharp stone blade clenched in her fist, reflecting the moonlight, and your heart begins racing faster.
She must be one of the Legion. Julie.
She slowly turns in her flat-heeled, pointy black shoes. The front of her red leather pants have skeleton legs spray-painted over her own. There's ornate gold trimming up and down the sides of the pants, and a gold trimmed belt decoratively tied around her waist in a brighter, more vivid shade of red than the pants. More bone white body paint is smeared over her tight abdomen, and a frilly white panel in the center of her leather top covers up the decolletage of her large, round breasts.
She's wearing more body paint on her arms, white and black to make them appear skeletal. And she's wearing what's either make-up or a skin-tight mask to make her face resemble a Dia de Los Muertos candy skull, with what appears to be blood smeared around her left eye. A few ringlets of platinum blonde hair peek out from beneath the black-and-gold head scarf.
As you continue to stare you notice the blood red bandanna tied around her left arm, and the blood stains covering both of her hands and her shoes.
You just stand there, holding your breath, hoping she can't see you. She's as beautiful as in all the stories. And at the same time infinitely more frightening.
But then her head cocks to the side and you can tell she's looking right at you.
You turn on your heels and run for your life, faster than you ever have before. You hear a heavy metal song start up on an iPod or some other kind of portable music player she has with her. You can hear her grunting and panting to keep up with you, her shoes kicking up dirt as she sprints after you.
Off in the distance you can see the lights of an abandoned, decaying old hunting lodge. You run towards it. Julie's grunts and labored breaths are growing closer and closer.
In desperation, you run between two broken-down segments of what used to be a wall. You grab a heavy wooden panel resting up against one of the segments and pull it down so it covers the gap, hoping the few seconds it takes Julie to curve around it will buy you enough time to keep you alive.
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