Carnival

4

A low mist hung in the air, fading the figures of people into grey phantoms that seemed to float as they walked. The grey shadow of the circus tent loomed ahead, chanting music echoing from within.

I walked. I didn't know where to, or where I was headed, but I had to get away from that deranged clown. Swerving through the forest of people, thick tongues of mist curling around my feet like branches, I found myself at the entrance of the haunted house. Despite the background noise of the carnival, my ears focused on a high pitched humming, breaking the silence of the house. It looked like I was the one and only customer willing to go in. It seemed the most unlikely place for a clown to appear, so it felt safer than it probably should have.

I showed the ticket man my wristband, and he pushed open the faded ebony door.

"Am I your only customer, sir?"

"Oh no, dolly. Don't you worry, you'll never be alone in th' haunted house." He croaked, and the door clicked shut behind me. Well, it certainly sounded like I was alone, aside for the crackling music drifting from some unkown speaker.

The floorboards creaked as I crept along a hallway, and into what I guess was the kitchen. If I just stayed here for a while, that creep of a clown should get bored and go and find something else to do. He doesn't know I'm in here, so hopefully he'll look somewhere else.
I opened one of the kitchen cupboards, like you are supposed to do, and black spider dropped onto the floor, silvery silk glistening in the dim light. It was made of plastic. The other fright fairs in the kitchen included a rattling sound coming from the blacked out window, and a severed hand, sat in the oven, that twitched when I opened it. It wasn't that scary. I turned on the tap, and it squeaked, before filling the sink with a rising pool of 'blood' - water and red food colouring.

I turned on my heel and entered the next room, hoping my for a little more entertainment. It smelt dank and old, like a museum. A distant scream erupted from the speaker, followed by some evil cackles before returning to the haunting music. I suddenly noticed my heart was beating unhealthily fast, and my breathing had quickened, catching in my throat. Get a grip, woman, I pulled myself together, trying to gather my thoughts.
There was a creak from the hallway. I spun around, but of course, nothing was there. Just black shadows dancing across the walls, another effect to try and frighten people out of their senses.

I was stood in what looked like a posh living room, red velvet sofas surrounding an ashen fireplace, with deer heads on the walls and a grand piano in the corner. A magnificent glittering chandelier swung above my head, and there was some kind of rustling from the fireplace. I thought about having a seat on one of the sofas, but they looked a bit dusty and worn, and I didn't want to anger the evil spirits. What? I don't believe in ghosts! Thoughts of bloody Mary and other horrors buzzed around my head, and even though I positively did not believe in ghosts, I was careful, cautious.  I focused on the stag head, sat proudly above the fire place, and watched it blink at me. My heart continued to thump, louder and faster with every second. I was starting to freak out, even though I knew it was all a made up game, meant to scare you.

My shoes clipped too loudly along the wooden floor, and before I knew it, the piano was playing by itself. I must have jumped about three feet into the air and bitten my tongue, cursing under my breath. I knew it was all fake. I knew I was meant to be completely terrified at the moment. I knew I could make as much noise as I wished, but nevertheless, it felt like I needed to be quiet, to move silently, not disturbing anything in this haunted house. And now, I could taste blood.

The piano stopped playing abruptly as I took the first step of the stairs, gripping the rotting handrail. I was starting to wish I wasn't so alone, that Victor, or anyone for that matter, was here with me.
But they weren't, and I was going to have to grow up. This was just a kids toy after all, made for little children. So why was I so afraid?
I entered the bedroom, most of the room filled with a large four poster bed, draped with purple canopy curtains. Everything was dusty and dark, and, peeling back the curtain, I spied a skull on one of the pillows, a few patches of grey hair still left on the bone. Ew.

The ceiling was fluffy with cobwebs and an old bookcase wobbled with every step I took. I stopped to look at the books on its shelf, half expecting to see all the old classics; treasure island, Nancy drew, maybe even the famous five. Obviously, the books were untitled, their yellowing pages blank. I ran my hand along their spines, when something hit me on the back of the head. I bit back a cry, and whipped around. Nothing.
I walked, my head held high, into the darkened hallway, and kicked something light and bouncy, though I couldn't see what it was. It skittered across the fading wooden planks, and rolled into a pitch black corner, out of sight. Though as I opened the last remaining door on the landing, I felt it again with my foot. I reached down and picked it up, cold and smooth in my palm. An orange? A tennis ball? When I realised what it was, my blood ran cold in my veins. There, in my trembling hand, was a shiny, red nose.
I glanced up. Don't ask why, but I did, and there an then, I realised I was not alone, after all. But now, I sincerely wished I was. A faint scream escaped my mouth. I was paralyzed with fear, staring wide-eyed at an ivory white face, complete with a sinister black smile. The clown was sat in a chair, in the centre of the room, grinning back at me.