Page 7 of His to Fear
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 laughwith 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 womansettles 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.
