The Biker's Rules
The carnival smelled like sugar and popcorn and damp hay.
At the haunted house entrance, someone hands me a red balloon and tells me to follow the path.
Somewhere, I turned wrong.
My brothers vanished.
Three clowns appeared.
Not funny clowns. Not circus clowns. These were fuck-ass ugly, nightmare clowns — too tall, teeth too sharp, voices wrong. Bloody knives glinted under flickering lights as they closed in.
Run. I told my feet. But they were stuck.
I watched them getting closer and closer. I could already feel their teeth sinking into my flesh.