Black Autumn II: Rise Of the Pit Sloth Hub

rating: +100+x

Another year, another Halloween, another horror film festival. They had to cancel the one last year for obvious reasons— you can't exactly run a film festival when you have a scarecrow stuffed with the body of the festival's manager appear in the middle of the popcorn machine. But, it's under new management now.

New management means lower-quality films have shown up. Passable indie horror that relies too much on jumpscares or has atmosphere but no payoff, a couple of low-budget movies that are as scary as vacation footage (mainly because they're shot like vacation footage) and, for some reason, someone decided it would be a good idea to make a film based on the Holders Series of all things. As if what they had done to Slender Man wasn't bad enough.

Still, there's one film that's attracting a lot of attention— a sequel seemingly lacking a first installment. People push their way through the crowd to get a look at the poster.


The show's nearly sold out by the time you get a ticket. It's going to be the highlight of the festival, they say. You hear it's been filmed in town, even.

You barely manage to grab a seat in time. Soon, the lights dim, and the movie begins.

Opening Credits

The scene opens on a bar somewhere in America. A woman drowns her sorrows in a piña colada. Something's stalking her on the way out, something from her past. Is this a slasher film? Someone behind you tells you to be quiet as your silent speculation leaves your mouth.

The Witch's Hut

Another woman works in the room of a costume shop. They're going all-out with the Halloween aesthetic. Next to you, you see someone from the newspaper taking notes for his review. You manage to read by the light of the screen that he thinks the actress is amateurish.

From a Burning Screen

The projector stutters, briefly. An usher comes in to apologize, but the words are barely out of his mouth before the projector restarts. Unfortunately, the scene is in medias res, so they have to rewind it. Still, you catch a glimpse of a movie screen on fire, and what seems to be a horde of zombies. What kind of film is this?

Of Goats and Sloths and Flu

They're introducing another monster into the film. You can't decide whether the costume looks good or bad— on the one hand, the jaw is well-articulated, but on the other, the 'Goatman' looks like he's missing several dozen pieces of fur. Still, it's fairly entertaining so far— you don't mind the slightly cheesy costumes. This is an amateur production, after all.

Playing Dress-Up

The film critic a couple of seats down lets out a groan— the woman who made the film is somehow the villain of it. It's an interesting twist, but the writer is certainly no John Carpenter. Still, it introduces an interesting angle— body snatchers.

Holes Shaped Like People

Another projector skip. This time, a couple of people leave to demand refunds, but again, it goes right back up. You could have sworn that your drink was empty, but now you find it full again. And there's some candy that you're sure you've never bought next to your bucket of popcorn. Hey, if it's free, it's free.

You just ignore the fact that you see a hand sliding under your seat as you pick up the candy and sprinkle it into your popcorn.

S&C Phonies

Your eyes are drawn away from the screen as someone's head explodes. There's a kerfuffle out in the lobby. You think you might hear sirens. Your bladder's full, so it might be a good time to get out to the lobby to check it out. You doubt anything interesting's going to happen anyway. So, popcorn down, you head out of the theater.

...and Knock 'em down

You exit the theater— the halls are empty. The lights are dimmed. Down the hall, the lights for the restrooms flicker. You walk down, but as you do, you see something in the lobby— a pair of giant, beady eyes, looking in outside from the Halloween night.

You freeze, and turn to face it. There's nothing there. Suitably wigged, you leg it to the restroom.

Set 'Em Up...

A few minutes later, you come out of the restroom. The door to the theater screening Rise of the Pit Sloth is swinging, as if someone had just entered. You make your way to the door, and re-enter just in time to see that the film's in the middle of a flashback sequence. How much did you miss?

As you ask this question, the film seems to rewind, right to the point where you exited the theater. You look towards the door leading out of the theater. It's not there anymore.

"Have a seat," something beckons.

Movie Night

Your popcorn and candy have been freshened. At least you're comfortable while you're being held here to die by… something. You should've moved to Minnesota, like your mom wanted, but you just had to stay here in Sloth's Pit.

Talking of, you recognize the angle they're shooting from; it's at the top of the Episcopal church. The angle's not the only thing being shot from there; a sniper's in the belltower, aiming at a house.

Free Falling

The theater is swathed in darkness. The projector fails, again, and you hear people rushing to the door. You get up, only to see the door still missing. People are calling for help. Several people pull out phones to call 911.

Behind you are a pair of oddly calm individuals— a man and a woman. They look like they've seen some shit. Your eyes are drawn to the screen. They have seen some shit. They're in the movie, right now, falling down a bottomless pit.

Rock Bottom

The two people who have seemingly broken the fourth wall climb out of their seats. The woman looks at you. "Hey!" She says. "Think you can make yourself useful?"

"I-I guess?" You stammer.

She comes up to you and presents you with her bag. From it, she produces what seems to be a thin metal disk, which soon unfolds into what is clearly a battering ram. "Break down the wall if you can."

"Okay." The ram's heavy, but you manage to get it over to the wall.

12 Hours in Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin

"One, two, three!"

The battering ram lands against the wall with a satisfying thump.

"One, two, three!"

The wall buckles ever so slightly; it's clearly brickwork that's been moved to block the doorway, hidden under some of the cheap cloth that covers the theater's walls.

"One, two three!"

A cloud of mortar erupts from the wall. Light comes through.

Family Reunion

Several people crawl out of the small hole you've made with the ram. You can see the red and blue of police sirens through the hole— they must be in front of the theater. Children pour out first, then a few mothers.

You swing the ram again. The wall seals around it, and you feel something crawling on your back. It has long claws and ten fingers.

The Doom That Came To Theater Six

Kicking and screaming, you, and everyone else, is dragged back to your seat and strapped in by furred arms. Scenes of the movie flash over the screen, and you hear something rhyming. Looking behind you, you see the two who gave you the battering ram.

You're not 100% sure what happens next, but it looks like the guy gets stabbed in the leg, and runs from the theater, along with the girl. Not much happens for the next several minutes— nothing that you can see.

Then, a body flies out from the back of the theater and lands on the screen with a sickening crunch. Someone in the front row lets out a scream, and then, something starts crawling from the screen.

Roll Credits

A woman bolts past you, seemingly coming from the projector. She screams something as she makes it to the front of the theater, where the man landed. You take your first opportunity to bolt out of there— on the way out, you bump shoulders with something that looks like it has horns.

Then, you're out front. There are sirens. People have guns trained on you. You're manhandled, inspected, and sat down on the curb. The nightmare's over.

About ten minutes later, they carry the man out of the theater on a stretcher. The woman is running next to him. You're ignored.

Nobody recognized you— then again, why would they? Nobody knew that your great-grandfather, Quinn, survived his mother. The only evidence you have of your lineage is the hair and eyes that you share with Jackson Sloth.

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