ChapterOne
“Get out of the house, Justine.”
“You need to make more friends, Justine.”
“You are too old to be this way, Justine.”
You could open my phone’s contact list, randomly pick a name, and find someone who had an excuse about why I was not the way I was supposed to be. And what did that evenmean?
I was the only one of my inner circle that had made it to twenty-six without two plus kids and a divorce on my life’s resume. I was the only one from my smaller group of high school friend’s who made it all the way through college and then into graduate school. Was success not what was instilled in me as a kid? Was it not my own mother who claimed that I would be so much happier in life if I lost those twenty pounds (and I did), finished college (and I did), set down a financial safety net (and I had)?
And when I was not being bombarded with how I wassupposedto be living my life by the people who weresupposedto be my friends . . . I was okay. Maybe I was not really happy. Maybe there was a bit of the feeling of missing out, on needing someone else there for company in the evenings. I did not even have a cat. I was trying to hold off getting the cat until I made it to thirty. Then, if I was still single, I would embrace the crazy cat lady persona.
But the others around me just did not understand me. They did not understand my fascination with the weird and the macabre. They thought I needed more family friendly hobbies. Hell, even Amber had told me the reason I was still single was because I was a funeral director and had a shelf full of dead things in jars. At least the wet specimens on my shelves did not criticize me over everything.
The world of science had been propelled throughout time by people who were willing to look at the weird things others avoided. It was not my fault others only saw the weird and not the beauty in it all. I told myself my heart was just more willing to love than the average person. And that was why, my single – happy but not happy – self was currently walking across a dark, gravel covered field as I stared at the lights ahead of me.
The carnival had come to town. It came every fall, and I usually avoided it. But this time there was something new. The company had been taken over by new management apparently, and now they had an after dark show strictly for adults. The tickets were a bit pricey. The after dark show only happened a few times during their visit, and the amount of guests was limited each night. This was something new they were trying out, probably as a means to survive in what was an otherwise dying industry.
The advertisement only stated that it was a show for those who liked finding out what went bump in the night. And it also stated it had a museum of curiosities – that detail really sold me. So, here I was, the single pringle walking down the dark path toward the entrance. There were not many people around. This was the first after dark show of the season, and it appeared that the word had not fully gotten out. I could see a few other singles walking about with their hands tucked in their pockets or phone lights flashing the ground at their feet so they did not trip on a rock.
There was one couple up ahead, the goth type, dressed all in black and wearing platform military boots.Those had to be uncomfortable on this gravel. Not that my flats were any better for the situation.
As we neared the gate, I saw a macabre clown standing near the entrance. Instead of the perky, happy clowns that either terrorized or enthused young children, this clown had a smile that looked as if it had been cut into his face. His clothes were a more drab, neutral shade of silk; and, he was bobbing his head back and forth as he watched us approach.
I clutched my phone in my hand, my virtual ticket already open in my email. I stepped up to the clown and gave a polite smile. He looked me up and down, leaning closer as he made a dramatic sniffing noise.
“You smell like nature,” he chuckled. “I know just what to do with you.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key with a green tag hanging on the end.
“Step this way, ma’am. Start at the back of the path and work your way forward, it is more enjoyable that way. Less crowds. This key is for the spider’s house. I think our resident arachnid just might like how yummy you smell. Tell him hello for me.”
His eyes looked me over, and he giggled with a high-pitch as he stepped away, rubbing his hands together. He opened the gate, the aged wood giving a small creak, as he gestured for me to enter. Sure, that was not weird at all. I nodded and tucked the key and my phone back into my pocket as I stepped in.
It smelt like a carnival. There was a petting zoo near the entrance where the animals sat chewing their cud or sleeping in their pens. I could see the popcorn machines still popping fresh kernels. The air smelt like fresh, hot butter. Another macabre clown was standing near the cotton candy cart. This one was dressed in a fur suit with a cheaper mask that did not hide the odd quills poking out from his back. The usual pink and blue bags had been replaced by old fashioned cotton candy on a stick, only the flavors were listed as Bahama Mama, Jack stout, and some sort of red flavored concoction. Adult cotton candy, I could get into that.
I followed the first clown’s advice and made my way toward the back of the carnival as the others entered through the gate behind me. The corners between game stalls and rides were darker than I expected. I felt something was watching me from inside them, but chucked it up to anxiety. My eyes widened, and I nearly jumped in excitement, when I found the tent listed as the cabinet of curiosities.
ChapterTwo
It wasa large blue and white striped canvas. The door flapped back and forth in the slight breeze moving through the carnival’s paths. The entryway was strung with different skulls, pumpkins, shrunken heads, and various sized bottles. The bottles tinked against one another in the breeze.
Inside, the walking path was lit with string lights that weaved in and out of various displays. Up first were two tall cabinets filled with simple things like porcupine quills, insect nests, bird nests, and a few pretty rocks. Mediocre, to my standards. I had a whole hornet’s nest tucked into a bookshelf in my apartment. I kept moving, watching as the simple turned into stranger natural oddities like various animal skulls and snake skeletons. Turning the path, I saw a large glass case with a shrunken head on a pedestal. I walked closer to it, tilting my head as I tried to determine if it was a real specimen or fake.
I heard voices entering the doorway behind me, a laughing woman that commented on how weird just the first displays were. I was not interested in browsing with others; so, I kept walking, feeling a bit underwhelmed by the entire show. I made it to the end of the curiosity tent and found myself in a darkened section of the carnival. The tent ahead of me was green and draped in spider webs. I could not tell if this was meant to be a part of the main carnival or not.
I walked toward the tent, noticing the lack of lights. The one string over the doorway was lit with red bulbs, making the entire structure look larger. The door was metal attached to a chain link fence, and when I tried the knob I found it was locked.
Remembering the key the clown had given me, I pulled it from my pocket and slipped it in. The door made a heavy click as it unlocked.
“Weird,” I mumbled.
I debated whether or not to enter. Was I the only one given a key to go into this place? Was this some sort of scheme to kidnap unsuspecting women and force them into a life of carnival work?
“Nonsense,” I told myself.
It was the modern day, stuff like that did not happen. Did it? Maybe it would not be a life of slave labor. Maybe they would just murder me, leave town. No one would ever know what became of Justine. I hesitated as I stood in the doorway, my hand on the knob. It was a spider house. I found spiders amusing, much to my mother’s dismay.