Demo data
“There’s a lot of very skilled horror writing here.”
The Black List (script version)As the Giddy Up rodeo draws crowds to the town of Dread, a masked killer begins picking off local teens. Amateur sleuths Landon and Star chase the truth through a tightening web of fear, suspicion, and buried motives.
The deeper they go, the more the lines blur between victim and suspect — until the hunt turns inward and survival becomes personal.
Set against the chaos and spectacle of a world-famous rodeo, Dread follows a group of teens caught in a calculated killing spree that feels both random and disturbingly precise. At the center are Landon and Star, whose curiosity pulls them into a dangerous investigation as the body count rises.
What begins as curiosity evolves into a psychological game. The killer hides in plain sight — or seems to — and trust becomes unstable, shifting with every new detail. As the town closes in and options disappear, the search for answers becomes something more dangerous: a confrontation with the people they thought they knew.
“The sun felt hot on our necks. We laughed, dragging plants into a pile, careful of the spines, bleeding through our gloves. We were just boys in a field. The only monsters in the world were the ones with thorns.”
© D.D. Gunn
Ethan dropped to his knees in the wet grass, clicked on his flashlight, and crawled in. Cobwebs. Dirt. Old pipe. Felix curled up, shaking. A raccoon scurried into the dark. He flashed his light on the dog’s bloody paw.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He pulled Felix out slowly and carefully. Stood up. Felt something behind him. Whipped around…
Nothing. Fog. Farm sounds. In his arms, Felix’s breath was strong. Ethan realized he carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and rolled them.
Ethan took the porch steps two at a time and kicked the door open.
He left a message for his mom, his voice pitched higher than he’d have liked. He wrapped Felix’s paw with a dish towel and set him gently on the bed. Then his phone vibrated, and he told it to read his texts.
“Hey there. How are you? Nice save.”
“Fuck off, whoever you are.”
“You go off on poor little pop stars, and I can’t do the same? You don’t like being trolled, troll?”
“FUCK. OFF!”
“Rude.”
“Who are you?”
“I’ll tell you. But you have to play along. Knock knock.”
Ethan paced the room. Looked at Felix panting on the bed.
“Knock knock. I’m not big on waiting.”
Ethan took a breath, rolled his eyes.
“Who’s there?”
A long silence.
“Me.”
Ethan stared at the screen. Mind-blown emoji. Alien emoji.
Then, a sound like the trailer was being dismantled. Shaking. Banging. Hard and fast, coming from every wall at once.
No more games. This was real as fuck.
“If this is a prank, motherfucker, I WILL shoot you.”
“Not a prank, asshole.”
Ethan bolted to the dresser, swiped his keys, and held the gun in front of him. Entered the living room.
Plastic sheeting on the walls whipped slightly. The paint and varnish smelled like sour apple schnapps.
He swept the room, side to side, and made his way to the front door. Felt the cool fake-brass knob and turned it.
“Did you forget about your little doggie?”
Ethan stopped.
“Fuck.”
He couldn’t tell if he thought it or said it. He was that scared.
He let go of the knob. Turned back. Gun up, hand shaking, inching toward the bedroom. Felix whimpered on the bed. Ethan grabbed him.
“One,” the voice said.
Faster through the room.
The plastic caught more wind now.
“Two.”
Door handle. Twisted.
“Three.”
Electric with adrenaline, Ethan threw open the door and sprinted, Felix under one arm. Gun in hand.
He didn’t see it coming. Nobody would have.
The 72-inch digging pole caught him just below the sternum.
Masked Creepy Alien Face tilted his head. Then rammed it forward.
Ethan slid along the floor, his feet losing the slippers.
No pain yet, just a dull pressure in his chest and coldness arriving fast. A light clunk as the metal pole pinned him to the wall.
Then the pain grew fierce as Creepy Face leaned in, pushing the pole deeper, through him, through the wall… closer and closer. Those eyes. Fierce. Like a wolf.
Ethan’s arms slumped. Felix slipped from his grip. The gun hit the floor.
Breath came in brief interludes. He watched the killer walk to the stove, turn the knob, click click click, then fire, which they blew out.
The fumes rose, wispy and light, into nothingness.
Continue Reading© D.D. Gunn
The Pub is yours. Say what you want about the book, the characters, the town — I’m listening. I check in a few times a week and I try to respond. I won’t delete posts unless they’re genuinely harmful. Everything else stays. I’m grateful you’re here.
Sample reviews shown for demo purposes.
“Tense, propulsive, and smarter than it lets on. Gunn builds dread the way a good rodeo builds tension — slowly, then all at once. The killer’s identity lands like a gut punch you were somehow not prepared for despite the clues being right there. I finished it in one sitting and checked my back seat before I drove home. That’s the test. Dread passes.”
