The Incredible Fear

On the west side of town, in late autumn, a young man could be seen heading down a gravel road. The yellow, chalk-like dust that floated up from his ever-moving feet gathered around him in a hazy cloud, making him seem otherworldly. His destination was unknown, even to him, and he just kept walking, never looking upward to the path ahead.

The man was tall and well built, but his shoulders slouched with the burden of
the problems of the world. He never wondered where he was going, what he would
find. These trivial questions meant nothing to him.

As the orange globe in the sky fell behind the trees on the horizon, clouds
formed up above. They were black as soot, this color perpetuated by the dimming
sunlight. The crows that had flown about earlier in the day, singing their song
of death, had finally found a perch for the night and were no longer floating in
the never-ending air. Night was falling onto the earth.

With night came many things, the tortures of nature. As the nameless man
continued to walk, a strong wind suddenly blew the earth about. Immediately,
sounds of terror could be heard. The howling coyotes to his left caused him to
raise his head for the first time. They sounded so near. He felt he could plunge
his hand into the pools of blackness and feel the hot, steady breath of the
angry animal. In panic, he picked up his pace.

He felt that something had changed. The wind
was stronger, the air darker and heavier, weighing on his soul. Not only could
the coyotes be heard coming even nearer to him, but now it seemed the birds and
bats had joined in taunting him. They were circling his head, almost as if
worshiping him.

Again, he moved faster, frightened more than ever while the black clouds rolled above, growling and screaming at him with their
pounding thunderous voices. Bright strikes of lightning could be seen across the
horizon and strong rains poured from the tormenting clouds above. His clothes
became heavy, and his long hair was blown and stuck on his face.

The shaking and shivering man broke into a jog. Then, when a bolt of lightning
shook the ground, he began to sprint. Trees flew by him, reaching out for his
wandering body. He ducked and dodged, stumbling all the while, searching for an
escape from the hell he had entered, but it seemed that the deeper he went, the
more profound his fear had become. Even the simple scrape and grind of gravel
under his feet caused him great panic. He continued his running, passing more
trees than could be counted. Still the sounds haunted him. It was overwhelming.

Then, he stopped. Ahead of him, in a wide clearing, was an old, broken down
carnival complex. It seemed to glow with a ghastly light, as if it didn’t belong
in this world. There were three separate buildings, one large, the other two
small, and yet they seemed connected. The gravel road traveled just beneath the
large, wooden gate. It was shaped and painted like a clown’s head, where the
mouth was the entrance to the park. A Ferris wheel could be seen in the
distance, but it seemed old and rusted. The park was enclosed by a high, chain
link fence which seemed to scream, “Stay away!”

He just stood there, enthralled by the grand park that had just seemed to
appear. Then, the wind came on even stronger, challenging the strength of the
man. The rain turned to strong hail, beating at him, and still, the coyotes
howled, and the animals above soared around him, seemingly immune to the
disastrous weather.

He had no other choice. He had to get out of the storm, and so, he darted to
the entrance. There were boards nailed across the opening, preventing vandalism
and destruction within the complex. Lightning struck again, weakening his knees.
In a desperate attempt, he ran and dove through the wooden defense, landing hard
on the other side. In response to his small victory, the heavens seemed to let
loose their worst. Hail pounded his rubbery flesh, bruising and battering the
already broken form of a man. The wind threatened to blow him over before he
could even stand. With a grimace, he rose and ran to the nearest building. The
word, “FUNHOUSE,” appeared with a clown face, grinning and laughing. Somehow it
was illuminated in bright yellows and oranges.

Inexplicably, he was drawn to it. It was captivating, mesmerizing. He forgot about the horrors above and around. The painful hail was a minor annoyance. He simply ignored the soaring creatures. All that mattered was the structure ahead of him.

He reached out for the crooked doorknob. It was warm, even with the chilly
conditions all around. He firmly grasped it, and twisted. Surprisingly, the door
was unlocked, and it swung to show its hidden contents, darkness. Despite the
roaring wind and thunder, the birds and bats above, and the rock hard hail
dropping from the sky, he was most afraid of what loomed ahead. He boldly set
himself straight, disregarding the loud rumblings in the sky and crossed the
threshold. Once inside, he realized how ridiculous it was to be worried. Darkness
was only the absence of light, nothing more. There were no lurking creatures
waiting to hunt him down. There was nothing inside hoping to devour him from the
head down. This building was peaceful. It was his shelter, his temporary home.
Of course, that was before the door slammed shut.

All available light was snuffed out as it sealed. Panic immediately
coursed through his body as he silently stood there, closing his eyes and hoping
for an escape. He tried the doorknob. It was now shockingly cold, and just touching it sent pain running through his arm. It seemed as if there were spider webs hanging from
everywhere. Reaching out for some guide and balance, he moved around the
building. Spider webs immediately wrapped themselves around his hands, his feet,
and his face. He did his best to breathe through his nose. The webs clogged his
nostrils, and he was in such a state that the nose could not supply enough air
to his lungs for sufficient comfort. He gasped, wrenching his mouth open and
breathing hard. Air filled his lungs, but the webs came too. They tasted
bitterly dry and dusty, and he spat trying to rid his mouth of the disgusting
substance.

Finding a wall with his hands, he moved down what seemed to be a hallway. He
tripped and stumbled occasionally on strange, oblong items scattered about the
floor. Then he felt something run past his leg. Another object brushed his leg
and he panicked. He sped down the hall searching for salvation. Not long after,
he found himself, face flat on the floor. It was only then that he heard the
familiar scuttles and squeaks of rats. They climbed all around and on top of his
body, sending him into a state of panic and confusion. Up he jumped, brushing
the furry animals from his shaking body and searching for steady ground. He
still could not see even inches in front of him.

Then, he came upon a corner. He rounded it hoping for a back door of some sort.
Something grasped his arm. Its grip was tight and painful. He tried to pry the
fingers from his numb appendage. It seemed to be working when another thick hand
came out of the wall and latched on to his other arm. A glow seemed to be
emanating from the area in front of it, casting a silhouette of the creature on
the wall. It cackled and threw him to the wall, pinning him down helplessly.
Bringing its face to his, the sinister clown cackled once more, its bright red
lips curling in an expression of glee. He could feel his other arm now fading
from consciousness. He felt as if some sort of press was flattening him. Horror
stricken and frozen in panic, all he could hope to do was drop his jaw and stand
silent.

The malicious clown grabbed the man's face and forced him back even further. The wall behind vanished as the clown opened its jaw wide, exposing yellow pointed teeth. The poor boy was surrounded by darkness. For the first and last time that night, he made a sound. It was an incredible scream of agony and torment.


________________________________________________________________________

After the man had been missing for three days, a search party was formed. It didn’t take long for a police vehicle to spot a leather wallet lying in the gravel of the old rarely traveled road. He claimed that he followed the likely path until he came upon distinct shoe prints, left in the mud and dried by the hot souther sun. "The
man", he said, "seems to have started running. The tracks kept getting wider and wider apart, until they just, disappeared, right in the middle of that empty clearing. All I found was this shoe. "