Carny Night

Walking stealthily along the carnival Midway just after a dark midnight. Harold stayed near one side so he could see the watchman, if there was one, before he himself was seen. Most likely, anyone else there would be using a flashlight, so would be easy to spot in plenty of time.

Harold was on a dare, issued by his best friend. So why hadn’t Vinnie come with him? When he got back, he would call Vinnie what he was. A chicken! Cluck, cluck.

He was nearing the Fun House, with its plastic clowns and horrid creatures stapled to the entrance. In the near dark, their scary faces were subdued. The silence without the quirky sound effects and spooky laughter was as eerie as the shadowy figures.

Just beyond the kinky façade, the House of Mirrors made him pause. Harold had always feared this one more even than the Fun House. Viewing his own distorted torso was bad enough. Fat and lumpy, tall and sticklike, or lilliputian and slithery … any of these could predict his own actual future. His most frightful concern, though, was bumping into the maze of mirrored walls repeatedly, trying to find an escape n a wild panic, stuck in those alternate realities. What if he couldn’t find his way out? What then?

It would be fully dark within that attraction now, but Harold would not have gone inside, with no one around, for any amount of money or dare.

Still, this bet was going to be easier to win than he’d even thought when Vinnie had suggested it. No money would exchange hands. As the loser, Vinnie would not have to perform some ridiculous act, nor would he have to do anything that required impossible gymnastics. Instead, it would be Harold’s turn to come up with a good one that now Vinnie would not be able to laugh off and skip out on. Vinnie figured that, given some time to come up with a good one, he would be up to the task. Harold figured that before long, he’d get his chance to jump all around his best friend, hands tucked beneath their respective armpits, squawking like a frazzled hen.

Harold did realize that this game of one-upmanship was one of escalation, that eventually a dare could become dangerous. He didn’t think this one was it, though. It perhaps was being too easy to accomplish. Maybe he shouldn’t be too hard on Vinnie on the succeeding round of dares.

From behind one of the rides about sixty yards ahead, a flashlight’s beam moving back and forth became visible. At first stuttering between empty space then the ride’s extended arms, the light became solid as the carrier stepped onto the path, walking toward Harold.

As the light lowered to the ground, Harold’s breath caught. A large dog was padding alongside the figure. He didn’t know if the animal was leashed, but it was certain to uncover any intruder. Unleashed, it might do much more than that.

The dare had just become dangerous. If Harold ran, the dog was sure to be faster, and it was sure to do grievous injury before it was finally called off. And did the man carry a weapon? Most likely. If not a pistol, at the least he could expect something like a beavertail slapjack filled with lead shot. Such a sap could do incredible damage to another human. His dad used to carry one of those, and Harold had seen it in action.

Harold did the only sane thing possible. He ran.

In only a few strides, he was at the ferris wheel. He jumped and grabbed a metal bar, hoisting himself onto a long arm, then reached up for the next bar. The first thing he had to do was gain some height.

The snarling dog was almost immediately below him and barking up at him. Running footsteps were right behind. Harold looked down into the face of a smiling man.

“Boy, what are you doing up there?”

Harold saw the smile and began to hope for the best outcome possible, which likely would be a call to the sheriff, then for his dad to come pick him up from the station.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I just wanted to look at the carnival after everyone had gone.”

The man scratched the top of his head. “Well, get down off that thing.”

“I’m afraid of the dog, Sir.”

“You come on down. He won’t do nothin’ lest I say so.”

Harold came down, keeping an eye on the dog. The man walked over, producing some zip-tie handcuffs. He motioned for Harold to put out his hands, and quickly he was cuffed in front.

“You come with me,” the man said. “I want to make sure you don’t do this again.”

Harold walked with the man back the way he had come. The man kept watching and saw him eyeing the House of Mirrors as they grew even with it. It was totally dark, but its front door was open.

The man stopped, then prodded Harold toward the entrance.

“You make it through that, you can go on home. Bullet here will guard the front so you don’t back out. I’ll greet you at the exit and untie you. Deal?”

“It’s dark. I can’t do that. Please don’t make me.”

“Get inside, or we’ll find something better. I’ll bet Bullet would like that.”

Harold looked at the dog intently staring at him.

He stepped toward the entrance, then inside. It was totally black.

Harold knew that, one way or another, this would be his last dare.