AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh that’s awesome,” Taylor said, ducking so she could slide the plastic necklace over his head.
“What are these for?” Malcolm asked warily.
The ballerina pointed a slender finger at something behind us.
A sign, in dripping black paint, read:Looking for more thrills? Don a green circlet. By wearing it you consent to being touched, grabbed, or removed from your party.
“Do we have to?” Malcolm stared up at me, his eyes wide.
“It’ll be fine. I promise. They’re not going to take all three of us.” I lowered my head for the ballerina. Once again, kudos to the special effects artist. The inside of her severed neck lookedsorealistic, the bones bright against the dark flesh, complete with a gaping hole for her windpipe. I couldn’t even tell where her real head was inside that slender neck, which was even more impressive.
The ballerina held up another green ring and cricked her bloody neck to one side, as if she was actually tilting her head at Malcolm, waiting.
“How do they do that?” Taylor asked, taking a step toward her, trying to peer down into her neck like I had.
“Must have a big production budget if they only do this once every seven years,” Malcolm replied, closing his eyes as the ballerina dropped the necklace over his head.
She pirouetted away into the dark without a word.
“Where should we go first?” Taylor asked, rubbing his hands together and surveying the hodgepodge of tents. A large Ferris wheel hulked at the far side of the field and from the clattering sound, I assumed there was a small rollercoaster nearby.
“I don’t know. Let’s just follow the crowd, I guess.” I gestured to the right of the forked path, toward a series of carnival games. From past experiences, the night would last longer if we eased Malcolm into the scares instead of jumping in headfirst.
I’d no more than taken a step in the direction of the games when a clown leapt out from behind a tree, its decaying face matched only by the putrid scent wafting around it. Like the zombie nurse, half of its cheek was missing, but it wasn’t from mold. It looked like he’d chewed it off. The ragged hole extended from the corner of his black lips and stretched back, revealing rows of rotten teeth. Angry red sores dotted the rest of his skin, looking like the bubonic plague had struck again.
I made a face and took a step backward, as much from the smell as from the clown. Having the hots for masked killers was one thing. Decomposing clowns was another.
The clown followed me, so close he almost touched my shoulder with his. The comically large mallet in his hand was coated in a dark, wet substance. Blood, probably. Or fake blood, rather. Either way, the red goo collected dirt as it dragged on the ground beside him, leaving a dark trail.
“Ok, dude, we’re good,” I said, trying to ignore him as I lengthened my strides.
The clown didn’t leave. I knew he was there from the looming presence making the back of my neck prickle uncomfortably. The sound of the scraping and the smell certainly didn’t help put me at ease.
“Knife throwing!” Taylor said suddenly, veering off to the left. Malcolm and I followed him as he cut through a line of people waiting at the strongman game. At last, the clown disappeared.
Taylor stepped up to the counter with a grin and took his five knives eagerly from a rail-thin man with a scraggly gray beard. “Come on, Griff! You know you want to.”
“Alright, alright,” I sighed, even though the last thing I wanted to do was handle more knives. The cut on my finger throbbed in agreement. With my luck, I’d have carpal tunnel by the time I was thirty. Tamping down my irritation, I took the handful of knives and scraped the edge of my thumb against the blade carefully, fully expecting them to be duller than a plastic spoon. Surprisingly, the edge was sharp.Reallysharp.
The corpse of a middle-aged man hung at the far end of the throwing lane, nailed into place like a human scarecrow. His dirty flannel shirt was torn down the middle, a crude red and white target painted on his burly chest. Even from a distance, it seemed so lifelike, just like the ballerina. I was surprised they’d waste such a good prop on a knife-throwing game. Guess Malcolm was right about their budget.
Taylor threw his knives in rapid succession, bringing up memories from our childhood, when we’d run around pretending to be ninjas. All but one knife bounced off the corpse. The one that stuck landed in its meaty thigh, sinking into the stained denim to the hilt.
I chuckled and stepped up next, flipping the knife over in my hand and catching it by the tip of the blade. Taking aim, Ilaunched it down the lane. The blade plunged into the body’s abdomen.
“A little low,” Taylor said with a smirk.
“At least his stuck.” Malcolm chuckled.
“I’m just getting started,” I said, rolling my shoulders and squaring off with the dummy. The way its eyes stared at me was a little unnerving. They were blue but dull, bugging out from their sockets. The man’s mouth hung open, as if he’d died in the middle of a scream. Which was ridiculous because “he” was made of plastic or foam or something.
Shaking off the unease, I aimed my second throw. The knife landed a little higher than the first, on the edge of the outermost target ring.
“Still warming up?” Taylor nudged me right as I threw the third one. It went wide and hit the shoulder.
“Dick!”
Taylor laughed.
