Page 7 of Fed By Fear

Edwin’s face drops. I’ve wounded his pride and reminded him of his mortality. There aren’t many people I keep close. The evidence that anyone close to me ends up six feet under is too strong to ignore. I’ve often thought that if I could be close to someone, it would be Edwin.

“Deal!” Randall’s voice brims with excitement. Vic pumps her fist in the air. My gaze is still pinned to Edwin. He sighs, but agrees.

My plans for a quiet Halloween night in go up in smoke. It looks like I’ll be spending All Hallows’ Eve in the gaping jaws of Reaper’s Playroom.

Why does this feel like such a bad idea?

Chapter 3

Hunt

The scent of fear travels through my mask, infiltrating my hidden nose and mouth. This place is a buffet of asinine mortals wetting themselves for a chance to be scared. Those who are so eager for terror have never known true fear.

They’ve never experienced anything likeusbefore.

For most, a chance meeting with any one of my kind is a first and last encounter. Those who miraculously survive do everything in their power to avoid being that scared again for the rest of their lives.

There must be hundreds lined up to get inside Reaper’s Playroom. A haunted house renowned for its realistic and horrifying rooms. A reputation earned through brutality and a relentless pursuit of horror.

These humans are soft, though—inexperienced in the ways oftrueterror. I’m confident those who survive the night will be left with something to remember me by.

“So many juicy morsels.” Madness’s maniacal laughter ghosts up from behind me as I peer out a side door.

The tip of my chainsaw taps the chin of his neon-green-and-pink clown mask. “Don’t fucking sneak up on me.”

He cackles again, throwing his hands in the air. “Accident, accident.”

“Get back to your room,” I order him. “They’re about to open the gates.” Madness takes his leave as I return my gaze to the ever-growing line.

My hunts have always taken me to remote places. I enjoy finding people alone. When no one else is around, I can take my time. Milking every last drop of fear from a single soul fills me up in a way that’s so different from the quick scrapes of top-layer fright that are emitted by those who race through these painted rooms.

That’s how I found Reaper’s. One year it was an empty field in the middle of nowhere. The next time I passed this way, there was a full-sized scare house.

They’d done an okay job. It would have competed well against your standard animatronic-filled attraction. Things changed once we found it.

Choosing a body was easier than expected. The very fears we embody are reflected in multiple rooms of Reaper’s Playroom. I stepped into the body of the chainsaw-wielding hunter with ease. He’s a fan favorite. We only borrow our bodies for a few days a year. The real humans are still in here, floating in the back of their subconscious. When we return the bodies, they wake up with enough memories of scaring and screaming to keep from asking questions. If I’ve learned anything about humans, it’s that those who choose to scare for a living crave power. Eliciting screams and triggering fight-or-flight responses gives these mortals a sense of importance and control that they don’t find outside of the darkness and their masks.

For three years now we’ve slipped into these human skins and gorged ourselves. Those few hours on Halloween weekend are pure paradise.

Our influence leaves a mark. Even on weekends we’re not present, the workers have become more ruthless. We’ve inspired such morbid creativity in their endeavors to terrify the masses.

New waivers went into effect last year, understandably. The owner is a greedy, money-hungry mortal. After the first incident, he saw an opportunity: have the visitors sign away their free will. A watertight NDA removes their ability to file a suit. Instead of reluctance, visitors actually find it thrilling.

We’ve had limited interactions with him. He knows something is different with us, but has never peered in too closely. He doesn’t even set foot in this place. That’s how I know he’s smart. All he cares about is money. Which means we can do as we please as long as it keeps a line out the front door. Oh how easily mortals are corrupted.

The weekend of Halloween is the scariest, of course. Those paying for entry must assume that extra work goes into this weekend but it’s quite the opposite. We’re here on Halloween weekend. The rumors and lines have grown substantially larger.

Accidents are unavoidable when demons are at work.

Even with the contracts, if we eat, kill, or maim too many people, the Playroom is bound to get shut down. If we had more control in this type of environment, we’d run this kind of shit year-round. We’re here for fear. That’s it. The others know that. Eating and maiming are optional luxuries reserved for individual hunts. Slipups jeopardize this opportunity.

On the flip side, previous slipups have given Reaper’s such a fearsome reputation that we’re never short of snacks.

Scaring out in the open like this is risky. We’ve alwayscapped it at a few days. I might be able to last longer, but the others are a different matter.

Masks help conceal our true forms. We do our best to blend in with the humans who work here. Idiots who think jumping out and yelling “boo” is enough to get the job done. I have to give them moderate credit. Our tactics have triggered their creativity. The rest of the rooms have gotten darker, scarier, over the years.

They are learning from the best, after all.