Page 59 of Shadowed With Fear

So where should I hide?

“Psst, jackass.”

My head snaps to the left seeing the clown girl from outside.

“If you wanna snatch one for yourself, get them from the front.” She sends me a twisted grin, skipping down the hall and through the front room, taking up post behind a large pillar.

I follow her lead. If anything, I can “drag” her away.

Radio static echoes through the halls announcing thirty seconds until the doors open.

The anticipation is killing me.

I pulled out my phone, sending her a text.

Shadow: You shouldn’t have stopped being scared of me, little flower.

And the fun begins.

* * *

Dahlia

I look down at the text on my screen, a shiver runs down my spine. My grin is so wide it hurts, and a dull ache settles between my thighs. I bounce on my feet, giddy for what’s about to come. He’s fucking here.

Liz has been talking nonstop about all the stuff she’s read about the manor’s haunt this year, and I can only half listen because my mind races with the possibilities of what is about to unfold.

My breathing is shallow, and my face feels so fucking hot. The shirt I’m wearing rubs uncomfortably against my sensitive skin.

The damn thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already hot and bothered.

What is he going to do to me?

The thought has me clenching my thighs, my center throbbing with need.

A crazed laugh blares through the speakers overpowering the music they were playing. The clown—who announced himself as Rusty earlier—shouts something to get the crowd riled up. We’re so close to the speakers it’s difficult to make out what he said.

“Are you ready to face your fucking fears?” He shouts into a megaphone.

I scream with Liz, laughing anxiously.

The doors open, and a large group of actors run out, some screaming, some with chainsaws or machetes, others in grotesque looking makeup, and they push my group forward.

I move on unsteady feet. Once we pass the threshold, the doors slam shut behind us. And it’s pitch black. I can barely see my hand in front of my face. And it’s quiet. The only noise is from the hushed whispers and shuffling feet of the group I’m in.

“Liz,” I whisper her name, my hand reaching in the direction she was in seconds before. I grasp blindly finding an arm, gripping it tightly.

“I’m right here, D,” she whispers back beside me.

Adrenaline courses through me a million miles a second, and my excitement is palpable.

A voice calls from the front of the group, ushering us forward in a hollow voice.

As a group, we move forward further into the darkness.

I cling tighter to Liz’s arm.

“Are you scared yet?” A low voice whispers in my ear. I turn my head his way, my breath coming quicker.