3. Luci
Luci
I’ve been to haunted attractions that served stale popcorn from folding tables. I’ve been to ones that charged seven dollars for bottled water and called it “immersive.”
Graves Park clearly wasn’t one of them.
The black-and-white striped tent looked like it had been stolen straight out of a vintage circus.
Crystal chandeliers hung impossibly from canvas beams overhead, throwing warm light across polished wooden floors.
Every table wore black velvet cloths instead of cheap plastic, topped with antique brass candleholders whose flames flickered inside glass chimneys.
“I’m sorry…” Amber breathed beside me. “This is a haunt?”
“It feels illegal that this is included in VIP,” Mary said, balancing a paper cone of pink and black cotton candy.
Sam disappeared toward a long wooden counter. Seconds later she returned carrying popcorn in oversized striped bags nearly the size of her torso.
“Fresh!” she said as she shoved a bag toward me. “Feel it.”
The paper was warm. Not microwave warm. Fresh kettle warm.
I glanced over and, sure enough, a machine hissed behind the counter, kernels exploding beneath polished copper. The smell wrapped around me before I stole a piece from Sam’s bag. Warm butter, a smidge of salt. It was perfect.
Despite all of the tasty treats, there was something haunting about it all. The distant groan of rusted steel. The slow, mournful music of a carousel somewhere beyond the tent. A calliope song that should’ve sounded cheerful - if someone hadn’t stretched every note until it became unsettling.
I wandered farther while the others took turns eating out of Sam’s bag of popcorn.
Glass bottles of old-fashioned root beer floated in galvanized tubs packed with ice. Stacks of caramel apples gleamed beneath glass domes. Peeking down, I noticed that even the black napkins bore the Graves crest. No detail had been overlooked.
“You’ve got to see this.” Catherine hooked her arm through mine, steering me toward the opposite corner of the tent.
A small prop antique wagon sat beneath strings of Edison bulbs.
Its faded paint read: MADAME ESMERALDA
FORTUNES FOR ONE TICKET
Red velvet curtains framed the tiny doorway.
“You each get one fortune,” the attendant explained. “Turn in your VIP ticket.”
“I call first,” Amber announced.
“You literally call everything first,” Sam muttered.
“You snooze, you lose, little sis,” Amber said as she stuck out her tongue.
While Amber stepped up to Madame Esmeralda’s table, my eyes drifted toward the opposite side of the tent. While we were discussing popcorn, the canvas flaps of the back of the tent had been opened and I was completely awestruck.
The midway stretched into the darkness. The Ferris wheel turned so slowly it almost looked still. For now, orange bulbs traced every spoke. It wouldn’t be long before any trace of light left the park. The thought filled my stomach with excited anticipation.
I was thankful I got a chance to see a small glimpse of the park before it was consumed by darkness. Fog curled around the tracks of the park’s only roller coaster. It was wooden and creaked even when I was a child.
For just a second, I could almost picture the park as it had once been.
Children running with balloons, parents carrying oversized stuffed animals, teenagers holding hands beneath strings of lights. Then the music warped again and the vision vanished.
“Luci?”
I turned.
A woman dressed as a lion tamer smiled warmly at me.
Her fitted crimson jacket was trimmed with gold braids, black leather gloves disappearing nearly to her elbows. A coiled whip rested easily against one hip, though something told me she could command a room’s attention without needing to crack it.
Recognition flashed across her face.
“Hi,” she said, as she stepped forward. “I’m Cassie. You spoke to our social media manager, my sister, Sidney earlier this week.”
“Oh hi!” I said, switching into professional mode. I had been admiring the space as a fan, but at the end of the day, I was here for work. Sidney had comped our entire VIP experience in exchange for a review. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“I’ve watched your videos for years,” Cassie admitted and immediately heat climbed into my cheeks.
Truth be told, I never expected my account to turn into what it had. I was just a horror nerd who liked ranking haunted attractions and arguing with strangers about how practical effects would always be cooler than CGI. Now people planned road trips around my recommendations.
I hated the word influencer. It made it all sound calculated.
Like I sat down one day and decided to manufacture a brand from thin air.
In reality, I just loved slasher movies enough to talk about them to anyone who would listen.
Somehow, that snowballed into movie premieres and attending horror conventions as “media.”
I’ve gotten to meet actors I’d grown up watching and been offered brand deals that have paid off my mortgage for the rest of this year and six months of next year.
Sometimes, I looked at my bank account and wondered how the hell talking about fake blood and rubber monsters had become my full-time job.
I never pitched myself to anyone, never cold messaged anyone asking for perks or freebies, never begged for partnerships or collabs… they always came to me.
“Then you know I’m a local girl,” I started. “I came here a lot as a kid before it closed down. What you guys have done with the place… my mind is already blown and I haven’t even gotten to see the full extent of the park.”
Cassie’s grin widened. She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her jacket.
“I won’t keep you,” she began. “I just saw you and wanted to catch you to say thank you for coming. Sidney has been ridiculously excited all week.”
“I should be thanking you,” I said. “All of you. It was so kind to allow me to visit, but to let my friends tag along too?” I glanced over to where the ladies were standing, trying not to make it entirely obvious they were watching Cassie and my entire interaction. “Just, thank you.”
Before she could answer someone called her name. She turned toward the photo backdrop where the masked pumpkinhead who was flirting with Catherine had called out to her.
“Duty calls,” she said. “Make sure you guys grab a photo before you head out!”
When I made my way back over to my friends, I pointed to the photo area.
“I was told we had to make sure we grab a photo before we head out,” I told them, referring to Cassie’s comment.
“Who was that?” Mary asked.
“She obviously knew who you were,” Amber noted.
“Our little superstar,” Catherine teased.
I rolled my eyes. They were great friends for a multitude of reasons, but I loved them the most for keeping me humble.
Despite my newfound viral identity, the girls treated me exactly the same…
if anything they made a joke out of it more often than not.
And not because they thought it wasn’t amazing, they made sure to let me know that too, but because I was simply just their friend that loved spooky shit all year long.
As we made our way to the line, I explained who Cassie was and took advantage of the great people watching at the photo backdrop. One by one, guests posed with the Graves family. Some smiled. Some screamed dramatically. Others pretended to faint. Every photo looked almost identically theatrical.
Then it was our turn.
I stepped forward and forgot how to breathe.
The Ringmaster stood in the center of the lineup. I had admired his costume from across the tent, but up close, he stole the whole damn scene.
The deep crimson tailcoat looked as though it had survived decades beneath dust and smoke, its once-rich velvet faded at the edges and torn near one shoulder.
Black embroidery curled across the lapels like dying vines.
The white sleeves beneath had been rolled neatly to his forearms. His heavily tattooed forearms, at that.
Black ink disappeared beneath crisp fabric, disappearing and reappearing every time he shifted.
His face, with his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, belonged on a marble statue somewhere.
Although, it would be a travesty not to be able to capture the emerald green of his eyes.
He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t have to. Everything about him demanded attention. Mine, especially, apparently.
For one completely humiliating second, I forgot there were other people standing around us.
“Luci?” Cassie’s voice snapped the spell.
She leaned toward me with a mischievous smile.
“Want to do something fun instead of the standard pose?” she asked.
“I…”
Brilliant. Fantastic response, Luce.
“I mean…”
My brain finally rebooted and I was able to think coherent thoughts and then articulate said thoughts.
“Yes.” I laughed at myself. “Yes, of course.”
I clapped my hands together. “Let’s do this.”
Cassie pointed toward an old wooden pedestal.
“Stand up there,” she instructed.
I climbed onto it.
Jack, the infamous Jack-O’-Lantern himself, dramatically knelt at my feet, presenting a glowing pumpkin as though he’d just uncovered the world’s greatest treasure.
Luca, who I recognized as his character The Fool, dropped into a low crouch beside the pedestal, one gloved hand pressed against the floor, his painted grin somehow equal parts ridiculous and terrifying.
Cassie circled behind me, looping the end of her whip loosely around my wrist like she’d just recruited the circus’s newest performer.
Then…The Ringmaster moved.
One smooth step. He stopped directly behind me.
Close enough that I caught the clean scent of cedar mixed with autumn air beneath whatever theatrical makeup he wore. One gloved hand swept outward toward the camera. Like he was presenting me to an audience.
…Or claiming me.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my behalf.
“Magnificent,” the photographer called from behind the camera. “Hold that pose!”
The flash popped. Then another.
“And one more!”
I laughed before I could stop myself. The camera clicked again.
“Perfect.”
The photographer stepped forward as she lowered the camera with a smile. “Those’ll be with Carrie before you even leave tonight.”
I hopped down from the pedestal, thanking everyone before stepping aside so my friends could get their photos too. When they were done, we started making our way to the back exit. The haunt would be starting soon.
We weren’t far enough away to not hear a very deep voice ask about the “smokeshow with the orange streaks in her hair” though.