Devil's Gateway

Chapter Eight

Want a balloon?

What a promising greeting that awaited me inside the next room.

My feet stood upon a weathered walkway. Large cracks trailed along the rust colored bricks. At the end of one of the cracks, an inhuman footprint lay imbedded in the pavement. Popcorn and cotton candy littered the ground. Taking a deep breath, I could smell the scent of the butter basking the carnival treat. 

A rainbow of lights flickered to life, illuminating the carnival rides all around me. Groans of the corroded hinges cried for oil as they turned. The lights moved, painting the grey pavement with a spectrum of colors.

Closing my eyes, I felt myself drift down memory lane. I could feel the unlimited ride band cutting off the circulation of my wrist. I always used to try to rip that orange plastic off at the end of the night, but it would only get twisted and tighter around my wrist. The scissors were my only hope.

The Tilt-A-Whirl was a family favorite. Mother and Father always sat beside me while I was wedged in the middle like the stuffing of an Oreo. The G-force pulling at my stomach always made me giggle like two gossiping girls. My giggles always became an infectious disease that spread to my parents. By the time the ride was over, our bellies ached from the laughter.

Then there was the dreaded Heart Dropper, stretching a whopping thirteen stories high. A slow, suspenseful climb to the top ending with a terrifying out of body experience as you fell to what seemed to be your death, only to have the brakes activate at the last second. Whoever designed that ride was a sick person. But the rush of adrenaline always kept me going back.

I floated down memory lane like Glinda the Good Witch floating in her bubble, until a loud noise popped the fragile shell and I came tumbling back to reality.

My eyes shot open.

A scratch, like a needle on a record player, sounded, followed shortly by the familiar tune of a carnival waltz. The music sounded distorted, as if it had been slowed down and played at different times on two different record  players. The eerie music carried throughout the park, running with the broken horses on the carousel and spinning with the shattered teacups.

In the distance, a figure stood under a spotlight waving. Rust colored shoes lay on its feet, busting open at the toe, exposing long black claws. Polka-dotted, bell-bottom trousers wrapped around the figure's legs, held up by a sunflower belt around the waist. Large patches of blood stained the material. Holes exposed the grey flesh lurking underneath. Above the wilted sunflower, a puffed-up, polka-dotted top stretched up to the neck and down to the wrists. Three eyeballs sat where buttons normally would. Three, lengthy claw marks ripped the shirt diagonally. The grey skin underneath appeared reptilian-like. On top its head, orange hair blazed like a raging fire.

Great, just great.

"Are you gonna offer me a balloon and say I'll float? If you do, I swear I'll sue you for copyright infringement."

The creature said nothing. Instead it kept waving its long talons back and forth.

"Survive the rides and live." The voice was Allison's, but again the blue aura appeared in my sight.

"Who's the clown?" I asked.

"Fred."

"Wait... you are telling me this ugly, demonic looking Ronald McDonald reject is named Fred?"

"It's short for Killafredice."

And for the first time, in a long while, I laughed. I laughed like I was a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons. I know I should have taken the situation seriously. There was a killer clown waiting to tear my heart out with one swipe of its hand. But the name Fred was not what I expected the demon clown to be named.