Rita wandered towards the
fun house, or as the giant sign read “The Dungeon of Doom”. She had always enjoyed funhouses as a kid, with
the uneven floors, and spinning tunnels. Even the cheap, giant metal structures
that they had in carnivals had entertained her.
This one, though… This one gave her the creeps.
She stepped towards the roped
off entry way, and tried to peer inside.
She saw nothing, only darkness.
She wondered if maybe it made her uncomfortable because it was
empty. Without the sounds of people
laughing and carrying on, the whole thing just seemed wrong.
She jumped back. Had something moved inside? She could swear that she saw something small
dart quickly through the shadows.
It’s just my imagination,
she thought to herself. All the stories
were getting to her. That was all it
was.
Why had she agreed to
work on this stupid show anyways? She
hated ghost-hunting shows. They weren’t
scary. Most of the time it was just
someone standing in the middle of the room trying to make everyone believe that
the sound of the wind was actually proof of a supernatural presence.
She hadn’t been with
Max’s show for very long, and had only worked on a couple of episodes, but she
already knew all the tricks. All it took
was a mere suggestion, and suddenly everyone believed that a room was suddenly
colder, or that the garbled sounds of airwave static were actually hidden words.
She took a step closer to
the entrance of the fun house. The only
thing blocking her from entering was a single velvet rope. All she had to do was reach out, and…
“I wouldn’t do
that.” Jean was walking towards
her. “I mean, it’s not safe in there
without the lights on.”
She nodded. The last thing she needed to do was fall and
break her leg, or worse. It’s not like
she had any kind of health insurance while being a PA. She couldn’t even afford rent for her own
place.
“Thanks.” She stepped away from the door. “Guess my need to explore was about to get
the best of me.”
Jean stopped, leaving a
decent sized gap between the two of them.
He looked a little calmer, although not completely comfortable. Rita noticed that he had a hard time looking
in the eye, instead choosing to glance off to the side, or at the various fiber
glass and plaster figurines that lined the cobblestone street.
“I have to ask,” she
cleared her throat, “why hasn’t anyone tried to update this place? Or at least clean it up?”
“It’s just a manner of
money.” He finally looked directly at
her. “It does hurt to watch this park
waste away like this, though. Even with
it’s history, this place is a part of my family. It’s a part of me, and my history.”
Now that he was looking
at her, right at her, a smile seemed to twitch at the edges of his mouth. Something about it made Rita uncomfortable.
“You remind me of him.”
He chuckled a bit. “My brother, I mean.
You remind me of him, when he was younger. There is something in your eyes. The shape of them.”
“Thanks, I guess.” She shrugged.
“Sorry.” He shook his head, that odd intensity leaving
him, replaced by his regular, uncomfortable twitchy nature. “So, how do your parents feel about you being
a ghost hunter?”
“I never knew my
parents.” She paused, unsure of why she had revealed that detail to Jean. He was basically a stranger to her. “They, well, they died when I was a baby. At least I think they did. I don’t really know much.”
Something in Jean seemed
to click, and his smile vanished. “You
should really be getting back to the others.
It’s not safe to be wandering around here.” He was looking over her shoulder, towards the
darkened entrance to the Dungeon of Doom.
“If you want my advice, skip the lock in. This place isn’t safe for… well, not for
anyone, but especially not young women.”
“Sure.” Rita just nodded and moved quickly towards
the main fairway. She wanted to get as
much space between her and Jean as she could.
As she was walking she
could feel eyes watching her. When she
turned, she expected to see Jean watching her, but he was instead focused on
the entrance to the Dungeon of Doom. The
feeling was coming from somewhere else, somewhere in the darkness of that fun
house.
She turned away, pushing
the feeling from her mind. She had a job
to do, and yes, they had an extra day to get everything done, but she still
couldn’t waste time.
Still, as much as she
tried to focus on work, she found her mind wandering. The fact that it wandered right back to that
dream she had had made her uneasy.
***
Jean was sweating
bullets. His heart was beating so hard
that he feared that it might just burst out of his chest. Had he said too much? He wanted to say more, to tell her the whole
story. He wanted to tell her to run, and
get as far away from Fantasy Land as possible.
From the hallway leading
into the Dungeon of Doom he heard small, soft footsteps walking towards
him.
“Be careful, Jean.” The
voice that drifted out of the amusement was soft, and seemed to drift towards
him like a breeze. “The Nameless will
not allow you to get in their way.”
The elf stepped forward a
bit more, making him just barely visible in the shadows. Ujin was glaring at him.
“I thought you never left
your post.” The words came out of Jean’s mouth in a stutter.
“I go where I am needed.”
When Ujin spoke, his mouth opened, but it did not move. The elf figure wasn’t speaking. It was whatever was inside of him that was
giving him a voice. “I can sense your
discomfort, but you must understand that these plans were set in motion a very
long time ago. They cannot be, and they
will not be, disrupted.”
“You can’t be sure it’s
her.” Jean glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Rita was gone. “You can’t be positive she is my niece.”
Ujin laughed. “You sense it just as much as I do. It is her.
The Scribes have guided her here, just as they will guide the others.”
“You have Grath. Shouldn’t he be enough?” Jean’s voice was getting louder, his
frustration building.
“Grath? Ha! That
egotistical monster.” Ujin shook his
head. “No, the others will come. The Nameless will have their gods returned to
them. The Scribes have told us.”
“The Scribes?” Jean
laughed. “They are the egotistical
monsters. Instead of using their powers
to better this world they decided to help return a long forgotten tribe back
from extinction. Why? There is a reason the Nameless died out. A very good reason.”
“Watch your tongue, boy.”
Ujin’s voice was deeper, cruel. “What
they have planned is much greater then you, or even I, could fathom. You are alive only because the Nameless owe
your brother a great debt of gratitude. That debt will only go so far.”
Ujin stepped into the
light, and Jean could see a faint, red glow behind his large, cartoony
eyes.
“Your brother promised
them his daughter, and the Scribes have seen to finally repay that debt.” Ujin leaned in. “He is gone, and now his debt is your debt. You do not want to know what they will do to
you if you do not repay them.”
Jean wanted to lash out,
to kick the stupid little elf in front of him, but he knew it would be
useless. The little hell spawn was
vicious. He had seen its handwork one
too many times to make that mistake.
“Hey, Jean!” A male voice
cut through the air.
Jean turned to see who it
was, and saw Max West’s cameraman running towards him. In a panic, Jean turned back towards the
entrance to the Dungeon of Doom. Ujin
was gone.
Using a handkerchief that
he kept in his inside coat pocket, Jean mopped his forehead and turned towards
the young man.
“How can I help you… I’m
so sorry. I completely forgot your
name.” Jean let out a forced laugh.
“Totally fine. I’m Rico.”
Rico was all smiles. He gave of
an air of friendliness. “Hey, I was setting up the monitors, and I was
wondering if you had the password so I could patch into the security software
for the park.”
“Sure.” Jean led Rico away from the funhouse, and
back towards the main fairway. “I’ll
sign you in.”
As they walked away, Jean
had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder. He didn’t doubt that Ujin was still watching
him, though.
Ujin was always watching.
No comments:
Post a Comment