CHILLS IN SUMMER

The air was thick with the scent of popcorn; Ella tottered past an empty carousel. It was lit up and spinning, accompanied by soft, off-putting music. She glared at it momentarily.

“That’s not very comforting,” she said aloud to herself. She reached down to trace the outline of her pocketknife for solace.

The sky was black, and cloud-covered, the summer air hot and damp. An eerie feeling lingered behind her as she trudged along. Staring at her distorted reflections as she walked through a row of funhouse mirrors decorated with colorful swirls and smiling clowns.

“Gross, I hate clowns,” she muttered through her teeth.

Ella stopped in her tracks. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and the chills slithered down her spine. She peered closely into one of her warped reflections; her face and body looked nothing like her own. Her face became slick with sweat, as she leaned in closer for inspection.

“You’re okay, Ella, it's just a mirror.” She takes a deep breath to calm her nerves.

The happy clown faces that decorated the mirrors and surrounded her distorted reflection warped into grotesque and sinister grins. Jagged razor-sharp teeth exposed themselves, and the vibrant colors of their makeup began to bleed and drip, like fresh wounds. Ella let out a blood curdling scream backing away from the mirrors, one foot behind the other.

Her eyes clamp shut. “No. This isn't happening. This can't be happening!”

A loud shriek followed by ominous laughter erupted behind her. She tripped on her own feet. Her butt hit the wet mud, her palms outstretched behind her, dirtied. Frightened and disoriented, she picked herself back up and swiveled her head all about.

“Whose there?!” her voice cracked. Shaking, she whips out her knife in a feeble defense against the ominous presence.

The toot of a sad horn rang out, as if it was mocking her fall. Standing in the distance, she spotted a tall figure dressed in bold, vertical black and white stripes.

“Hey! You shouldn't be out here!” a deep, gravelly voice rang. A pair of beady yellow eyes looked as if they were staring through her. The figure grew larger and gained speed in its stride, coming closer.

Fear paralyzed her, and a cold dread seeped into her bones. The air grew heavier and pushed on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She was stuck, fawning.

Every step she took back just wasn't quick enough, like she was in slow motion. Gleaming in the dim light, a gloved hand shot out and clamped around her arm, throwing her to the ground. On top of her, the blade hovered high above her face. The clown smiled impossibly wide at her. The white face paint at the corners of its mouth cracked, its disgusting rows of rotting, serrated teeth exposed.

Ella shrieked loudly, with the beast still on top of her. She drove her knife into his side causing him to fall off her and grab at his new wound.

Ella got up swiftly and bolted her way to the exit. Stumbling on remnants of the old tents, tarps and ropes snaked around her feet attempting to pull her back in.

"I'm never exploring anything abandoned ever again!” she yelled out, scolding herself. “Of course it had to be a clown!” She took the short cut home, running through yards and dodging obstacles in her way. Ella was close with a neighbor up the block. She decided it was best to plead for salvation at her door. She pounded at the door until the locks clicked and the handle turned.

Half-awake, swaddled in a fluffy robe, a small woman cracked open the door. Realizing it was Ella, she swung the door wide and rushed Ella inside.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she asked, “Ella, where have you been?! Your mother said you ran out this afternoon and hasn't seen you since?”

“Mrs. Harper, you have to believe me, there was a clown! It was chasing me and trying to kill me! You have to help me!”

“Oh Ella, your mother mentioned she suspected you hadn’t been taking your meds.” She enters the kitchen to grab Ella some water. Flipping the light switch on, her eyes are met with the bright red splatters across Ella's torso. She gasped, her hand trembling over her mouth in shock. “Ella, what have you done?”

Angelina Merlin was born and raised in the sunshine state of Florida. She is constantly working on strengthening her creativity and communication skills. She has many stories to tell and share.