Our House of Horrors (unanun and Peregrine)

[unanun]

"Eh!!"

Erin jolted ramrod straight, arms pushed straight into her lap.

"Well..."

"I ..."

"I suppose that could be a good idea ..."

Silence took over the space between them. Time seemed to freeze. A strand of pink, synthetic hair broke the equilibrium, sliding free of its sisters and falling just in front of her left eye. She blinked - her eyelashes brushed against the strands - and tucked it back, behind her ear.

"Maybe, I could take you for a test run first? Ah! You know, just in case it's a little too intense for some of the people. I mean, I know you're a good person, and you wouldn't hurt anyone, since you saved me under the bridge, but I don't really own this place and if someone complains and McKenzie hears of it, I really can't afford to lose this job right now."

She stole a glance at the carts, visible from ajar door of the breakroom. Sickly fluorescent light painted a thin yellow bar across the dark scene of the ride, and the reflection cast harsh shadows across the exhibit. There was a little bit of fright in the old girl, after all.

"We've got about half an hour before open, so ...?" She slowly reached for the breaker.

 

[Peregrine]

Now.

It almost drew a laugh out of her. Motivation. Enthusiasm. Impatience. They were all emotions all but completely missing from the world of the dead. If it was human to rush, then it was ghostly to wait, watch, stuck in eternal stasis.

Why not now?

She knew terror. Had lived in it for centuries under a worthless little bridge where time passed in a blur. The shadows of this ruined church were no different.

"As you wish, Contractor."

Her eyes blinked, and then disappeared. Ghostly presence began to spread its way from shadow to shadow, until the entire church slowly fell within her grasp. The faint leak of light through holes that were worn into old planks, the inevitable rumble of the noises of civilization from outside, all faded away into nothingness.

"Take your seat."

Erin had spoken of a House of Horror being a lesson. That it was supposed to teach the people who passed through it something about fear. Something about survival. What Elizabeth knew about death was that sometimes it was better to stay still. The more you struggle, the more you scream, the more you act, the more tightly the clamps of death squeeze around your body. Sometimes, the only way to escape death is to sit still, do nothing. Hide. Only then will catastrophe avoid you.

As the ride slowly shuddered into motion, the endless rumble of the tracks was quieted to a background hum. And, after a moment of complete darkness, golden eyes opened within the shadows.

They began to swivel, endlessly seeking their prey.

 

[unanun]

"Um!"

The call died in her throat. Erin almost lifted a hand to pull Elizabeth back as the ghost turned to smoke, as if it was a friend that was trying to climb out of the ride. She pushed her hands into her lap again, shielding herself from what was about to come with her turned-in arms, and waited for the first jolt of the cart.

She had been on the ride enough times during the setup to know it by heart. The first jolt was when the wheels jumped on a misaligned section of track. Just around the corner would be a spring loaded face that she had tested by pulling it as far as she could, and she knew that it could never touch her. Still, when it sprang out of the dark into the last bit of sunlight, as everything else became coated in dark, she yelped.

She couldn't see anything. But she could still feel the cart, and knew how fast it was going. What was next. What was next? What was supposed to be next? Her chest began to pound, and she released a breath that she had been holding, panting for new air. Her fingers suddenly hurt, and she jerked her hands away from each other. She waited for the shudder of the next corner. She waited for the shudder of the next corner. She waited for the shudder of the next corner.

She waited for the shudder of the next corner.

She.

She had seen this on the silver screen so many times. She knew what she had to do. Even though it was all dark she felt so exposed. She knew that she was glowing with fear. She tried to stay still. Tried to leak her breathing out through her nose. Tried not to move anything. But the end was inevitable. She was going to shift her shoe, or her hair would come undone, or she would cough, or choke, and the hot lump was rising in her throat, and the tears would soon come, and then the eyes would look over and it would all be over.