“Yes, seltzer bottles of water, pies in the face. It’s like clowns have a chloroform rag at the ready, waiting for the moment you let your guard down and turn your back.” Crossing her arms under her chest, she huffed.
“I think you’ve been reading too much Stephen King.” He shook his head.
“Mock me all you want. If we get into that place and a clown comes after me I’m screaming that bitch down.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I could just see that too.” His gaze focused on something behind her. “Looks like we’ll find out soon. It’s our turn.”
Her heart smacked against her ribs, and her stomach plummeted into her shoes. She didn’t feel right. Everything in her screamed “go back”. Clark moved forward and she hesitated.
“Vannah?” He frowned, concern etched all over his face.
I can’t wuss out. He loves fun houses.
“I’m ready.” She gave a shaky smile, forced one foot in front of the other, and followed him up the stairs.
“Step right in to the house of a million faces,” said the ride worker in black jeans and a black t-shirt. Clark wrapped an arm around Savannah’s waist and squeezed.
At least something good is coming out of this. Smoke obscured her vision as they walked inside a dimly-lit hallway. A jack-in-the-box sprung out near the end, and she screamed.
“Wound tight, are we?” Amusement colored Clark’s voice.
“Shut up.”
They continued into a large room with multiple mirrors surrounding them.
“Which way?” he asked.
“Left?”
“You got it.”
They turned and found themselves at a dead end. A strange sense of urgency hit her.
“Let’s hurry up and find our way out of here, please.” She tugged him to the right. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, her skin prickled with fear. As they found the proper passage she glanced over her shoulder to see a stern-faced clown with dead eyes. His garish white face was highlighted with bright red lips and red and blue circles around the eyes. Bright orange hair stuck out from underneath a dingy red hat.
Vannah’s breath caught in her throat, and she urged Clark to go faster, almost stumbling in her haste to get away.
“Whoa. Calm down.” Normally his voice soothed but tonight the effect was lost on her.
“Clown. I saw a clown.” They passed through a glow-in-the dark room and out into the night. Once they cleared the doorframe her psyche sang with joy. Bending over, she gulped down air as he rubbed her back.
“Hey, we can head home now if you want.”
Yes! “No, I’d like to go to the Tunnel if you don’t mind. It’s always been my favorite ride.”
“It would be.”
She peered up at him and smiled. The light from the carnival rides sliced through the night and highlighted his beautiful face. With a father from Spain and a blonde mother with green eyes, he was born to be gorgeous. He had a thin, muscular frame covered in olive-colored skin, a strong jaw, and chocolate brown hair that fell into his beautiful eyes just so.
“What’s wrong with being a romantic?” She elbowed him in the side.
“Nothing if you’re an English major.” The amusement in his tone softened his words.
“Whatever, Mr. Undeclared.” She straightened up to her full five feet eleven inches. “Let’s head over to the Tunnel.”
They walked the thirty feet in comfortable silence. The Tunnel looked deserted. Giant swan-shaped boats were lined up with no other carnival goers or ride operators in sight. There was something ominous in the stillness.
“Looks like you’re the only one who likes this thing,” he said.