                                     
                      
                         SCARING PEOPLE
                               By
                         Black Sunshine          

     Halloween is here again, here in all it's commercialized
oranges and blacks and aisles of store-bought candy, in it's
plastic skeletons lounging on porch swings and it's gusts of wind
swirling the autumn leaves into a frenzy in the street.  (Or is
it the wind?)
     Halloween is the busiest night for business.  Imagine--
people paying to trip around in the darkness and be scared to
death.  I love scaring people.  I'd do it for free. 
     I've worked here since this place opened.  I can't keep
track of the years though, the many Halloweens past.  I've been
here longer than that, ever since I can remember.  The owner,
Mark, lets me keep living here.  He knows all about me.  This
building is ugly and run-down and not very warm in the winter,
but it is dark and quiet and Mark won't let anyone bother me. 
Which is good.  It's not wise to bother me.
     I'm standing here once again the hot darkness of the maze. 
I can see a strobe light pulsing over the tops of the walls
beside me, and hear the faint screams and the soft whirring of
the chainsaw engine echoing from the other side of the haunted
house.  My hands clench and unclench involuntarily in sweaty
anticipation of what will come.  My rubber mask has trapped the
heat underneath; a drop of sweat slides down my cheek.  I scratch
underneath my collar, longing to rip the mask off, but I promised
Mark I wouldn't.  I don't know why he doesn't let me.  People are
paying to be scared, after all.  They want it to be real.  Even
if only for the time if takes them to walk through.  They want to
believe.
     But I won't take the mask off.  I promised Mark I wouldn't. 
I promised.  Tonight is the last night, and then I can have...
     I almost slipped.  I'm not supposed to tell anyone about
that.  If he thought I told, then he wouldn't let me have my
payment and if I don't have that, well then...
     I smell the next group of people before I actually see them. 
It's still just as dark, but that doesn't prevent me from seeing
them inch around the corner, two couples meshed together into one
being, shifting across the floor right into my area of the maze. 
I can smell their adrenaline.  They're scared, scared like hell. 
     A pretty blonde is in the front, pale, flawless, bare skin,
timidity, insecurity-- I see it all.  Her boyfriend's arms are
wrapped around her waist in some kind of reassurance and
protection, but he's nothing to worry about.  My mouth waters at
the sight of her and I move forward in the darkness.  Will this
be the one?
     The chains around my ankles clink against the cold stone
floor, but they are laughing now, they don't hear (because they
still don't know it's real) and I scrape my claws along the wall
both to shake them up a little and to try to lessen the desire
that has flared dangerously in my ribcage, but the yearning
doesn't diminish, and they keep coming right for me, right into
me, only they still don't know and I cut my tongue on my teeth
and I can taste the blood and then I can smell hers and I need to
know I need to will this be the one the one will this be will it
will it--   
     
@ 1994, by Black Sunshine
