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MidReal Story
Mute Murder Mystery Girl
Scenario:A girl named Vianna, with milky pale skin and long black hair that reaches her upper thighs, pale green eyes, pear shaped body, wears baggy clothes alot with converse shoes, is shy, skateboards, loves grunge and is mute, vlogs about murder is invited for a pre-opening VIP weekend at Jagged Island, a private amusement park for who pay $6,000 for a three-day stay. But there is a mute murderer,but the murderer kills someone when Vianna and the murderer are alone. He wore a long black trenchcoat, turtleneck, black face mask, black messy hair, black cargo boots, black belt, black cargo pants, black dress shoes, and dead blue eyes with pale skin, and has a deep menacing voice. He hugs her from behind, before pinning her to a wall and making out with her deeply while he covered in blood from his freshly slain victim
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Vianna B. Johnson
She is a skater and blogger who creates murder mystery content for her fans. She is shy, creative, and determined. Vianna loves music, particularly grunge, and often dresses casually in baggy clothes. She struggles with her parents' expectations but stands firm on her interests. Her blog gains popularity after she and a mysterious stranger are the only guests on Jagged Island, leading to a thrilling encounter with him. Despite the challenges of being mute, Vianna remains passionate about her work.
Drake
He is Vianna's older brother who plays professional hockey for the Portland Badgers. He is protective, caring, and busy. Drake often struggles to balance his career with family responsibilities, particularly towards his sister Vianna. Despite his hectic schedule, he makes time to support Vianna by attending events like the Jagged Island preview weekend. His presence provides Vianna with reassurance and occasionally offers comedic relief amidst her chaotic experiences on the island.
Mysterious Stranger
He is a skilled murderer with a troubled past. He is enigmatic, intense, and calculating. The Stranger is known for his involvement in a homicide case that shook the community. He has a distinctive appearance with bloodshot eyes and a menacing demeanor. His unexpected hug from Vianna at Jagged Island sets an eerie tone for their interactions. As they navigate the isolated island, the tension between them grows, culminating in a bloodcurdling encounter that leaves Vianna shaken and questioning her sanity.
My name is Vianna B. Johnson.
I am a girl blogger.
I create murder mystery stuff for my fans, vlog about it, post it on social media, and get paid for it.
I have a blog where I post pictures and videos of me doing stuff with my brother Drake, who plays professional hockey for the Portland Badgers.
Sometimes he helps me out with my content when he isn’t busy with his games.
We also have a skate team that consists of us and our friends; we make grunge music videos and post them on social media as well.
I have milky pale skin, long black hair that reaches the top of my thighs, pale green eyes, and I am pear shaped.
I like wearing baggy clothes; they are comfortable.
I am also mute.
I don’t talk at all because I had an accident when I was little, and it damaged my vocal cords.
I communicate through writing things down or using sign language.
Drake knows sign language very well; he learned it when I was little so he could understand me.
My parents know a little bit of it but not much; they never took the time to learn it properly.
They wanted me to take speech therapy classes to learn how to talk again, but I refused because I knew it would never happen even if I took those classes for the rest of my life.
I sprawl across my bed, my sketchbook propped up against my knees as I perfect the ears on the bunny I am drawing.
My phone buzzes next to me.
It is probably another notification from the latest murder mystery post I did.
I keep drawing, adding some whiskers to the bunny’s face.
The phone buzzes again.
And again.
Annoyed, I grab it and swipe across the screen to silence the notifications when I notice an email from an address that I don’t know.
The subject line of the email catches my eye, so I open it up.
My fingers shake as I read through the email.
Exclusive Pre-Opening Weekend - Selected Influencers Only
Dear Ms. Johnson,
We have selected you to be one of six influencers to be a part of our pre-opening weekend at Jagged Island Resort in Hawaii. The three-day stay is all expenses paid and worth $6,000 per person.
You will get exclusive access to our facilities before we open to the public and will be required to post about your experience on your social media pages during your stay with us. We have attached a non-disclosure agreement form that you must sign and return to us by reply email within 48 hours of receiving this email. You will also need to fill out a questionnaire so we can get a better understanding of what you are looking for during your stay with us.
We have included a list of items that you will need to bring with you for your stay with us.
If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us directly by reply email or call our office at 555-555-5555. We look forward to seeing you soon!
Sincerely,
Jagged Island Resort Management
"Vi, you have to go," Drake signs emphatically, his eyes wide with excitement.
I hesitate, scribbling quickly, "What if it's a scam?"
Drake shakes his head, grinning, "It's legit—one of my teammates got the same invite last year, and it was incredible."
After Drake leaves, I sit cross-legged on my bed, staring at the open suitcase.
My hands tremble as I click "Accept" on the resort's invitation email.
Opening my closet, I pull out my favorite oversized hoodies and cargo pants, folding each piece carefully before placing them in the suitcase.
The knife Dad gave me for my sixteenth birthday catches my eye from its shelf—its polished blade glinting in my bedroom light.
I hesitate, then wrap it in a thick sock and tuck it deep in the suitcase.
A notification pings—the resort confirming my attendance.
My stomach churns as I continue packing, methodically checking off items from my mental list.
Drake pops his head back in, signing quickly, "Don't forget your camera gear—this is a huge opportunity."
I nod, replying with a smile, "Already packed, but what if something goes wrong?"
He reassures me, signing confidently, "You've got this, Vi; just be yourself and show them what you can do."
Drake's car pulls into the misty harbor parking lot, the ocean air heavy with salt.
I spot a group of five people huddled near the dock—two girls in designer outfits taking selfies, and three guys in expensive casual wear checking their phones.
My skateboard tucked under one arm, I drag my wheeled suitcase across the wet concrete.
A massive white yacht looms ahead, its polished hull reflecting the gray morning light.
On the deck, a figure in crisp white uniform stands perfectly still, watching us.
Drake helps unload my camera equipment, gives me a quick side hug, and drives away.
I grip my skateboard tighter as I approach the group.
One of the girls, a tall blonde in designer clothes, glances at my baggy hoodie and worn Converse, whispering something to her companion.
My hands start to sweat on the skateboard's grip tape.
I fumble in my pocket for my invitation, smoothing out the crinkled paper.
The crew member in white checks my papers with a curt nod, gesturing toward the stairs.
A figure in black watches from the upper deck, partially hidden behind a lifeboat.
I grip the metal railing as I climb the stairs, my skateboard tucked under one arm and camera bag bouncing against my hip.
The expensive leather shoes of the other guests click on the steps behind me.
At the top, I pause to steady myself on the gently rocking deck.
The figure in black is gone, leaving only empty shadows behind the lifeboat.
A crew member in crisp whites gestures for us to follow him toward the main cabin.
The blonde girl pushes past me, her shoulder knocking my camera bag.
I lean against the railing, watching the blonde and her friend strut ahead, adjusting their designer outfits.
My fingers trace the worn grip tape on my skateboard as I take in their perfect hair, flawless makeup, and surgically enhanced figures.
The blonde tosses her hair and laughs loudly at something her companion says, both of them shooting sideways glances in my direction.
I pull my oversized hoodie closer, feeling the contrast between their polished appearance and my baggy clothes.
When they disappear inside the cabin, I catch a glimpse of myself in a window reflection—my long black hair tangled by the sea breeze, pale skin nearly matching the white yacht paint.
I turn away from the reflection, determined to find my place on this ship.
I find a secluded wooden bench near the stern, away from the chattering influencers in the main cabin.
Setting my skateboard beside me, I pull out my phone to record the ocean's spray against the yacht's hull.
The wind picks up, carrying the sharp scent of salt water.
My long black hair whips around my face as I tilt my head back, letting the breeze flow through it.
The yacht's engine hums steadily beneath me while I adjust my oversized hoodie.
I lean back on the wooden bench, letting the yacht's gentle rocking soothe my nerves.
The engine's steady hum vibrates through the deck beneath me, mixing with the rhythmic splash of waves against the hull.
My phone continues recording, capturing the water's movement while I take slow breaths of the salty air.
A seagull circles overhead, its cry barely audible over the wind and engines.
The bench creaks as I shift position, my skateboard bumping against my leg.
Through my closed eyelids, I sense the sun's warmth breaking through the morning mist.
I open my eyes as the yacht's engine changes pitch, slowing down.
Through the thinning mist, a dark shape emerges from the horizon - Jagged Island, its rocky cliffs jutting up from the ocean like broken teeth.
The other guests crowd the railings with their phones out, but I stay on my bench, filming from a distance.
As we circle toward a hidden cove, I notice movement on one of the higher cliffs - a figure in black, watching our approach.
The yacht glides into a private marina nestled between towering rock walls.
I grip my skateboard tightly and push myself up from the wooden bench, my legs stiff from sitting.
The other guests cluster at the starboard railing, their phones raised to capture photos of the approaching island.
I hang back slightly, filming their reactions while inching closer to get my own view.
The yacht glides between towering rock walls that block out most of the sunlight.
Through gaps in the crowd, I glimpse twisted metal structures rising above the tree line - roller coasters and rides jutting up like skeletal fingers.
The blonde girl shifts aside slightly, giving me just enough space to squeeze in at the railing.
"Did you see that figure up on the cliffs?" I ask, nodding toward the distant silhouette.
The blonde girl turns to me, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Yeah, it's like they're waiting for us... or maybe warning us."
A chill runs down my spine as I glance back at the cliffs.
I step off the yacht onto the weathered wooden dock, my skateboard tucked under one arm and camera bag hanging heavy from my shoulder.
The blonde girl and her friend rush ahead, their heels clicking against the planks.
A narrow dirt path snakes upward through dense vegetation, barely wide enough for two people.
Mist clings to the ground, making the soil look slick.
The group moves forward in single file, following a crew member with a flashlight.
I hang back, letting others go first, and notice fresh boot prints in the mud heading in a different direction.