Chapter 3 #2
She pulls the rope, and the red, huge curtains part, the entrance behind yawning open like the fanged mouth of a beast.
Zack is the first one to enter, with Eros hot on his heels, their muscular and veiny hands holding onto each other. I hesitate for only a second, but it’s enough for the attendant to notice.
“Come on now. Let’s see how well you play.”
Then, she pushes me inside and draws the curtain, leaving me in total darkness.
I turn around, panic clawing its way up my throat, and the irrational fear of needing to get out right now.
I try to find the curtain that the attendant previously opened, but all I’m met with is a door made of metal that screeches loudly as I bang on it, attempting to find a spark or knob to open it.
Something behind me thuds against the floor, echoing in the metal of the door. A red, glowing light comes from behind me, making my heart fly up to my throat as I turn around. It’s a flare, now turning around on the floor as if someone set it on fire after throwing it at me.
There’s no one nearby who could have, though.
“You coming?” Eveline startles me from my left, not noticing the flare on the floor.
“There’s no way out,” I whisper as she takes my hand in hers, leading me deeper into the dark circus.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there’s a door instead of the curtain she opened, and it can’t be opened.”
Eveline casts a look over her shoulder, taking in the door, but she doesn’t look nearly as worried about it as I am.
“I’m sure the door was there. We just didn’t see it. Come on, let’s have some fun.” I can barely see her in the darkness, but the glowing red lights flickering in the corridor reveal her gentle smile.
Scary circus music flares through the speakers, low enough that it becomes a creepy backdrop. Far behind, the sound of footsteps grows louder, along with the eerie sound of metal scraping against metal.
We arrive at a room that is as unnerving as it is disturbing.
Ancient furniture fills the room on both sides, leaving only a single, narrow path straight ahead.
A dartboard hangs on one wall, but across from it is a much larger one, mounted on a block of stone serving as a kind of desk.
Strapped to it is what appears to be a human, but surely has to be a mannequin, with an arrow driven straight through the stomach.
Blood pools from the wound, creating a nauseating scene.
It doesn’t seem to bother Eros or Zack, seeing as they’ve already passed through the room and are now patiently waiting for me and Eveline.
Low carnival music adds to the terror, mingling with the sound of distant, faint laughter and horror screams from deep within the building.
The closer we come to the mannequin, the more real it seems. Its face is painted with uncanny makeup and cracks brutally, splitting the skin into wounds that weep sticky blood.
Eveline moves first, carefully bypassing the mannequin until she arrives at the other side with her men. I hold my breath when it’s my turn, tiptoeing as silently as I can across the dartboard. The mannequin seems frozen in place, and I hurry forward.
With a jerk, it suddenly leans forward with a crazed expression, lips stretched impossibly wide. The air around warps with something utterly wrong.
It all happens so quickly.
Before I know it, something wooshes past me. It’s only my own reflexes that save me from whatever it is that’s coming toward me, and I duck, nearly falling to the ground before scrambling to get to the other side of the room.
Nausea threatens to spill up like vomit as the now-not-mannequin stares right into my eyes, way too much makeup caking his face and making it impossible to see any of his real features.
He lowers his hand. I hesitantly stare at the wall where I just passed by a second ago, noticing the arrow sticking out from the dartboard.
I stare at the man again. He’s smiling at me, blood dripping down his mouth
A giggle erupts from behind me, and Eveline stifles a laugh with a hand over her mouth, Zack and Eros grinning over at me.
“Should have seen your reaction,” Zack says, a mock-amused expression on his face.
“What the fuck? You could have hit me.” I turn my attention toward the man, still staring at me without blinking. “Hello?”
He refuses to budge, never breaking character.
“There are lots of dents in the board where the dart hit. It’s just a scare,” Eveline says. “My god, your reaction was too hilarious.”
I don’t know what to feel, so instead, I walk back to my group to continue inside this circus. As I do so, the man with an uncanny makeup waves at me.
We continue through the circus, coming to another room with multiple cages holding screaming clowns inside. I hurry through that one as fast as I can, terror chilling me from the inside out.
Multiple screams, giggles, and scares later, we arrive at a room decorated like a real circus scene.
The circus tent’s roof we saw from outside rises high above, with banners and flags shimmering all around.
There’s elaborate lightning, only adding to the mystic atmosphere that takes my breath away.
Benches and seats are arranged before a huge, oval-shaped stage, with the audience area divided into sections of four by aisles that lead to small stairs flanking the stage.
Onstage, a man holds the strings of a woman who dances like a marionette doll.
Both wear clown makeup, but whereas the man is dressed in a black suit that exudes dominance, the woman wears a red and white ballerina outfit, her frilly skirt patterned in a checkered design.
All of the seats are unoccupied, and I can’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment.
For some reason, I’d hoped the man from the queue would be here.
The man on stage pauses the performance, the woman settles down on a chair, and they both take in the new crowd of onlookers. His eyes seem to settle on Zack, who stands a bit behind me, crossing his arms. As if noticing the man staring, Zack meets his gaze, not at all intimidated.
“Oho, I see we have a brave one,” the man exclaims, throwing open his arms theatrically.
Zack only grumbles. We all hold our breaths.
“Le!” the man shouts, seemingly becoming more manic with each second that passes. “Smile, smile, smile! I said smile, or I will rip your mouth open!” His voice grows into a crescendo, shouting now.
Zack, for the first time, appears a little uneasy, wincing slightly. It’s barely perceptible, but still there if you look close enough. He gives a forced smile, but not without the cocked eyebrow, an expression that lets everyone know he doesn’t give a crap.
“Now, that’s a real smile.” His own lips split into a grin before turning toward the woman, who stands up like a docile doll.
She twirls and twists upon the scene, executing precise and stylized steps on the tips of her toes just like a ballerina would.
Professionalism oozes from her aura, years of practicing to perfect these specific movements.
All the while the man controls her, staring at her with a starved and seductive gaze that would have anyone melting into a puddle right then and there.
I don’t even notice when our group is separated, too immersed in the performance to notice.
Another scare-actor comes up to me, dressed like a doll with a fluffy pink dress draped in specks of red, and pigtails.
She ushers me into an ancient stool that looks as if it’s barely hanging on, creaking as I sit down.
I look to my sides, seeing my friends in different sections of the audience. Eveline and Zack take up the center ones, with me being the farthest away from what appears to be the exit.
The music flows into one of gentleness, a sultry and slow tempo creating an atmosphere of intimacy and passion. The dance, which had previously been intense, now softens. The performers draw closer together, the man becoming more of the ballerina’s puppet master.
My breath catches as I watch them, and even though it’s only a performance, it feels like I’m intruding on something sacred.
Something meant for just the two of them.
He handles her with such control and dominance, yet at the same time empowers her to do whatever she wants.
Offering her the freedom to lead the show, as if their roles were reversed.
I can’t help but cross my legs, trying desperately to ignore the erotic tension of the scene.
I want someone to handle me like that.
At last, he commands her to kneel with nothing more than a look, and she sinks into a split at his feet, relishing in his appraising gaze.
I don’t know how long the performance lasts, but I’m infatuated by it all, staring at the stage with an emotion I’ve never quite felt before, not really sure what to do with myself.
Suddenly, I’m ripped from my seat. I let out a startled gasp, expecting to see Eveline. After all, we shouldn’t be sitting in this haunted house all night.
But it’s not Eveline.
It’s a man, towering over me in a suit drenched in liquid gooey that shines red in the circus lights. His gloved hand wraps around my wrist, forcing me to follow after him. In my haste, I look around for the others, but realize they’re no longer in their assigned seats.
Panic flares inside me, hot and brutal, as I remember the words from the attendant as we entered the Gravewoods Fair.
The actors aren’t allowed to touch us.
He takes a few steps toward a dead end tucked away in the corner, just out of sight from the performance, and the very air seems to tremble with foreboding.
I barely dare exhale as he traps me between his body and the wall, tilting his head down.
A pale mask clings to his face, covering all of his features. It’s cracked in jagged edges as if it were made of shattered porcelain while remaining intact. Two hollow eye sockets gape where his eyes should be, and streaks of dark, congealed blood trail down his cheeks like molten tears.
His touch on my wrist burns ever hotter, electricity shooting straight to my fragile heart. I feel his breath in my ear, despite the mask. I don’t feel like myself; the enchanting music and the performance become a blur together of seductiveness and heat. Then there’s him.
The masked, muscular man trapping me against a wall as if I’m his to devour, and I’m hypnotized. Turned on. All fucked up.
And fuck is he tall.
Towering over me like a goddamned tree.
“Fuck, how tall are you?”
I can’t believe those words escaped my mouth.
He only dips his chin, chest rumbling despite no audible sound escaping him. I can tell he’s smirking from underneath the mask.
He leans closer, until our chests are basically brushing against each other, though my head only reaches right below his collarbone. His presence is an enigma in itself.
“Let me go,” I seethe, attempting to stem the fear bubbling to the surface.
He doesn’t listen, nor does he reply. He emanates control and power, something much more potent than the master and his marionette ballerina.
None of the scare-actors inside the circus seems to notice whatever it is that’s going on here, and I open my mouth to scream for help, even though I’m sure it’s all just fun for them. This is their job, and I’m here to be scared.
But this doesn’t feel like fun at all—this feels like something dangerous and all too frail for my heart to handle.
As if noticing my intentions to scream my lungs out, the stranger’s other gloved hand comes up to silence me.
I wipe my clammy hands against the fabric of my dress, swallowing excessively. I’m too short to escape him. He could easily overpower me.
There’s something in the way he’s standing close to me, all the while the erotic performance in the background is still taking place. The ballerina keeps dancing, and the master keeps watching and controlling her in that way that reeks of sensuality; it actually makes my heart pound harder.
The ballerina then circles the master, twirling around him as his hands roam her body. Seemingly touching every inch of her skin.
“It’s erotic, isn’t it?” the stranger whispers, sending a shiver of goosebumps all over my arms and spine.
“W-what?”
His hand gently glides over my neck, tilting my head even more toward the stage. His touch affects me more than I dare admit. It’s entirely too enchanting in here, like being hypnotized.
“The performance. The lack of control. You’re a pretty little candidate. I might take you home with me, bathe you in blood to make you more colorful. You do look a little pale.”
I bite my lip. Something is undeniably familiar with his voice, but I can’t make it out with the mask covering his face.
“I’ll see you later,” he promises.
I can feel the ghost of his breath along my hairline, and before I know it, I’m all alone. I brace myself against the wall, pressing my palms against the wall so as not to fall. My legs have turned to jelly. If I let go of the wall, I know I won’t be able to hold myself up much longer.
Finally, a figure emerges from the other side of the circus, coming through the curtains while scanning their surroundings. Eveline catches sight of me and waves, her eyebrows drawn in confusion, silently asking what I’m doing.
I should’ve left the circus a long time ago.
I don’t answer. Instead, I approach her, all the while feeling the burn of the stranger’s touch on me.