8. Luci
Luci
Agood haunted attraction wasn’t just measured in screams. Anyone could hide an actor behind a wall and make someone jump. The best ones built an entire world.
Which meant the food mattered. The staff mattered.
Even the bathrooms mattered, unfortunately.
Every detail outside the scares either strengthened the illusion or cracked it wide open.
That was why, after nearly an hour of being in the park, I steered the girls toward a silver vendor trailer parked along the edge of the midway.
A hand-painted sign above the window read:
KELLY’S MIDWAY TREATS
Beneath it, someone had added:
HOT CIDER · FRIED DOUGH · ROASTED PEANUTS
“It’s time for a research break,” I announced when we were all standing together again.
Sam immediately joined the line.
“I support your creative process.” She grinned.
The trailer’s service window had been framed with dried cornstalks, tiny pumpkins, and strings of warm orange bulbs. Steam rolled from a tall silver urn near the register, carrying the smell of apples and cinnamon into the cold night.
I ordered hot apple cider and a fried dough the size of my head.
The cider came in a black paper cup stamped with the Graves Park crow. The fried dough arrived folded inside a striped paper tray, still hot enough to send powdered sugar floating into the air when I tore off the first piece.
“Oh.”
I stopped walking.
Mary glanced over. “What?”
I took another bite.
The dough was crisp at the edges, soft and warm in the middle, with enough cinnamon sugar to make my teeth ache.
“This is good.”
“Good enough I need my own?” Catherine asked.
I chewed thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “You definitely do.”
“That needs to go in your review.” Amber chuckled.
We claimed two wooden benches beside the trailer. They looked original to the park, the green paint peeling in long strips that revealed gray wood beneath. The metal armrests were cold enough I could feel them through the sleeves of my jacket.
I sat with my cider tucked between my palms and looked beyond the food stand.
The midway curved toward the abandoned bumper cars. Fog drifted through the open pavilion in slow white sheets, gathering beneath the wrecked cars before spilling back across the pavement.
A pair of actors passed us while we ate. One dragged a wooden leg behind him, the metal brace scraping against the ground. The other wore a filthy feathered costume with a long black beak. Every few steps, the creature stopped and cocked its head sharply toward a guest before continuing on.
“Do you think that bird thing is supposed to be a plague doctor?” Mary asked.
“I think it’s supposed to ruin my sleep,” Sam answered.
I looked down when something black dropped onto the pavement near my shoe.
A crow hopped twice, grabbed a piece of popcorn someone had dropped, and flapped back onto the roof of the trailer. Another landed near the trash barrel. Then two more.
I followed them with my eyes. They were everywhere.
Perched along the sagging roofline of the old game booths. Balanced on the wooden railings. Lined up along the arms of a faded carnival sign as though they’d been placed there intentionally. I’d honestly never seen so many in one place at a time.
One swooped down and snatched a chunk of fried dough from beneath an empty table.
“Oh, no,” I murmured.
Catherine looked up from her hot chocolate. “What?”
“They’re eating garbage.”
“They’re crows, Luce. I don’t think they’re picky,” Mary said absentmindedly.
She was right, but they deserved better. I tore off another piece of fried dough and took a bite, but then I stood.
“Where are you going?” Amber asked.
“Back in line,” I told them.
“She’s gonna feed the crows,” Sam mused.
The roasted peanuts came in a small brown paper sack tied shut with twine. I carried them back toward the benches but didn’t sit.
A single crow had returned to the pavement. It stood several yards away, its body perfectly still while its eyes tracked me.
“Hi,” I said softly.
The crow hopped backward.
I stopped. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I opened the bag slowly. Every movement was deliberate. It would take very calm, very slow motions to achieve what I was hoping to do. I pinched one peanut between my fingers and tossed it onto the pavement halfway between us.
The crow stared at it. Then at me. Its beak opened slightly.
“I’m not trying to poison you,” I whispered. “I promise.”
It waited another few seconds before hopping closer.
One step. Then another. It snatched the peanut and jumped back. A laugh rose in my throat, but I swallowed it before the sound could frighten the bird.
“Good?”
The crow cracked the shell beneath one foot as another dropped from the railing behind it. So, I tossed a second peanut… then a third. The new crow landed farther away, its feathers shining blue beneath the lights of the food trailer. It tilted its head to one side.
“I have enough for everyone.”
I lowered myself into a crouch. My knees protested immediately, but it was so worth it.
I placed another peanut on the ground rather than throwing it.
The first crow watched me. Its body remained angled for flight, but it didn’t move away.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “You don’t have to come any closer than you want to.”
It hopped forward, paused, and then hopped once more. My entire body buzzed with the effort of staying still. When the crow reached the peanut, I smiled. Not widely though. I didn’t want to bare my teeth and convince it that I planned to eat the nuts.
“You’re very brave,” I told him.
Of course, I was assuming it was a he, but it was a tiny bit bigger than the other one and its beak was a bit larger which usually is a good indicator.
A third crow landed nearby. Then a fourth.
They approached little by little, their feet clicking against the pavement. Some grabbed their peanuts and retreated immediately. Others stayed, studying me as though they hadn’t decided what I was yet.
Person? Threat? Food source? Possible lunatic? All fair assessments. Well, except the threat. I would never hurt a crow.
Just for the sake of trying, I held a peanut flat in my palm. Much to my disappointment, none of them came close enough to take it. Trust wasn’t owed simply because I wanted it.
So, I set the peanut down on the ground. The smallest crow waited until I pulled my hand back before hopping over to claim it. A burst of joy shot through me.
“Oh, you clever baby.”
Behind me, Sam whispered, “She’s like a Disney princess.”
“Snow White had woodland animals,” Amber said. “Luci gets graveyard birds.”
I caught Catherine moving at the edge of my vision.
She had her phone held up presumably taking photos.
Usually, I would have turned toward the camera, probably adjusted my hair, and made some dry comment for the video.
But, this time, I didn’t. This moment wasn’t curated for social media. This was simply for me… and the crows.
The crows had inched closer again. The largest one stood less than two feet away now, its glossy head turned toward me. I placed another peanut between us.
“Here you go, handsome.” I smiled.
The crow took it. My heart might as well have exploded. I had spent the night inside tilted rooms and dark tunnels. I’d let actors chase me with weapons. I’d been caught by a terrifyingly attractive man twice.
None of it compared to this. They trusted me. Maybe not entirely, but enough to stay. Enough to approach and eat while I remained near them.
I talked quietly as I fed them, told them they were beautiful, apologized when two reached for the same peanut, advised one particularly bold bird not to bully the others… it ignored me.
The bag grew lighter. And then, it was empty. I looked inside anyway, hoping one last peanut might have hidden itself in a corner.
“I’m sorry, friends,” I told them, as I shook the bag upside down to show them it was empty. “That’s all I have.”
I folded the paper sack and rose slowly, giving them time to move away. They hopped back but didn’t fly.
When I straightened, I realized the midway had gone strangely quiet around me. Not silent. The music still played and the midway games still clattered in the distance, but the space around the benches had changed.
A small crowd had formed. There was a couple holding paper cups of cider and several teenagers who were watching the crows as if they expected them to lift me into the sky.
And, Damien. He stood next to Cassie, with his lip curled into a half smile.
His eyes crinkled in wonder like he couldn’t decide if I was crazy or the whimsical princess my friends thought I was.
My face warmed at the attention.
“Uh, hello,” I said, waving awkwardly.
The crowd immediately pretended they hadn’t been staring. My friends, on the other hand, made no effort to hide their amusement – especially when Damien started making his way toward where we were standing.
His coat moved around his legs as he crossed the pavement, crimson velvet cutting through the fog. Each step was measured and deliberate until he reached me and my friends. Then, for the first time all night, the performance dropped right away.
His shoulders loosened. The sharp tilt of his chin softened. When he spoke, the booming cadence of the Ringmaster was gone.
“Do you mind if I steal Luci for a bit, ladies?” he asked.
Four heads turned toward me. Then back toward him.
“No,” Sam said immediately.
“Go right ahead,” Catherine added.
“Have fun!” Mary chimed in in a singsong voice.
Amber waved one hand dismissively. “You don’t even have to give her back.”
My mouth fell open. “Amber!”
“What?” She took a sip of her drink. “I’m just being supportive.”
“You’re offering me to a stranger,” I rebutted.
“A hot stranger,” she corrected, not giving one single fuck that he was standing right in front of us.
Damien’s mouth twitched in amusement when his eyes met mine.
He held out his arm. The Ringmaster’s gloves were gone. I looked from his arm to his face. Every sensible instinct told me I should hesitate. So, I did. For approximately two seconds.
Then I slipped my hand around his forearm. The muscle beneath my fingers tightened.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
The Ringmaster act returned with a lifted chin, a secretive curve of his mouth, and a mischievous sparkle in his green eyes.
“Behind the curtain, little bird,” he said.
As he guided me away from the benches, I glanced over my shoulder.
Amber gave me two enthusiastic thumbs-up. Catherine was filming, because, of course she was. Sam mouthed, Be safe. Mary clasped both hands beneath her chin and pretended to swoon.
I faced forward again. Damien’s arm remained steady beneath my hand as he led me away from the crowded midway and toward a narrow path beside the old carousel.
Above us, the crows lifted from the rooftops one by one. Black wings crossed the carnival lights. For several seconds, they seemed to follow and then they disappeared into the night.