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“You really should go with your friends, though. Closing is soon and there are shady fucks around here who won’t be joking when they scoop you up.”
My heart thumps in my ears and my cheeks flame with heat. “You wouldn’t let that happen.”
Jackson’s gaze narrows, his dark eyes giving away nothing as he stares at me.
“You sure do have a lot of faith in strangers, B.”
The use of my nickname sends a wave of something I can’t put my finger on through my body.
We stand there in silence. Neither one of us seems to know what to say next. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and pull a strand of tickets from my bag.
“How many for the fun house?”
Jackson’s eyes dart from mine down to the tickets in my hand.
“Two.”
I tear off two tickets and hold them out, trying not to hold my breath as I wait for him to react.
He takes them and walks to the entrance. “Enjoy.”
I go through the clown’s large mouth and am instantly engulfed in darkness, the sound of circus music and distant laughter filling my ears.
The hall is narrow, and I have to hold my hands out at each side to feel for where to go. A loud bang jolts me as a strong spray of air hits me in the face.
“Come one, come all! Step inside my house of horrors.”
The recording of a creepy voice plays over busted speakers, words fizzling in and out as the phrase repeats on a loop.
The ground underneath me creaks and gives with each step.
More laughter plays in the distance, and I see the haze from a black light leading me around a corner. A large spinning tunnel greets me, with neon paint that appears to glow splattered haphazardly around. Rails on each side of the wood planks allow me to keep some semblance of balance as I make my way through the tunnel.
On the other side, I see a large stuffed spider propped up against the ceiling, and when a latch releases—sending it flying in my direction—a squeal escapes my lips.
I round a corner and am greeted by a large open room. It’s decorated to look like a clown’s dressing room. One wall is nothing but mirrors, but most of them are cracked. Another wall is covered in smears of red paint.
The words “is this what I look like” appear to have been painted on with someone’s fingers.
An antique vanity sits against the other wall, the mirror of it covered by shreds of newspaper.
Several dingy clown costumes hang from a clothing rod.
I pick up my pace, wanting to find the exit as soon as possible.
More puffs of air shoot at me paired with loud bangs that sound like a baseball bat slamming against a metal wall.
I can faintly see the lights from outside.
When I round the final corner, a massive animatronic clown pops out from the darkness and sends me flying into the opposing wall.
Glowing red eyes stare back at me, and I sidestep the creature, feeling for the exit door.
The warm fall breeze hits my face when I’m finally free.
“Was it worth the two tickets?” Jackson asks when I close the door behind me.
“It’s definitely a lot scarier being in there alone,” I say, turning to face him.
