𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

Alright, so maybe you lied.

The boardwalk you thought you knew was bathed in warm summer sun and cool ocean breezes — nothing like the hazy labyrinth that it was now. You considered turning back around to find Sam and work your way up from there, but you had taken one too many twisting turns and the neon light of the comic book shop was no longer visible, no matter how strongly you squinted through the dark.

The only sound besides the distant crashing of waves was the subtle hum of carnival music that floated through the air and made a shiver run down your spine. Everything was creepier in the dark, especially when you knew exactly what could be hiding in every alleyway you slipped past, waiting to tear you limb from limb or drain you of all the blood that thundered through your veins.

You paused to assess your surroundings before wandering any deeper into the fog. There was a single lamp-post hanging above you, illuminating the few benches that were tucked here and there. Napkins and empty styrofoam cups were scattered all around. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you stumbled onto the set of a cheap horror movie.

Right away, you realized that you were presented with two choices — neither of which seemed inherently better than the other. Follow the concerning music or stumble aimlessly until Michael (or someone else) eventually found you?

"Agh!" you cried out, jumping back as you felt something tug on the hem of your sweater. You scrambled to put as much distance between you and whatever it was that had touched you when you looked down and froze. "I-oh."

A little boy, no older than eight, was staring up at you with unwavering wonder. Your outburst hadn't startled him in the slightest and he still had an iron grip on the fabric of your top. 

"Hey...dude," you gulped, crouching down to meet him at eye level. He was scrawny, to say the least. Long, caramel-colored hair fell over most of his face and brushed against the shoulders of his studded black peacoat. "Are you...okay?"

The boy said nothing but shook his head, throwing his wild hair in either direction. You gave him a moment, offering him a chance to speak, but he clearly had no intention of going into further detail.

"Are you lost?"

A nod.

"Yeah," you sighed, standing back up. "Me too."

A salty gust of wind blew over the side of the pier and made you wince. When you opened your eyes, the little boy was still staring right at you. Creepy kid. "Alright," you gulped, reaching down to replace his grip on your shirt with your own hand. His little fingers were impossibly cold, making you even more worried than you already were. "Let's go find a security guard, yeah?"

As it turned out, following the creepy carnival music wasn't nearly as bad of an idea as you once thought. It only took a few minutes (added time for the little feet trailing slowly behind you) to find yourselves back under the glitzy neon lights. The crowds consumed you both instantly, swallowing you up like the tides on the beaches below.

Periodically, you would jump up on your tiptoes and try to peer over the heads of the people around you. There had to be a security guard somewhere. And if there wasn't, the next best thing would suffice. The next best thing, of course, was Michael and his kick-ass motorcycle.

It wasn't until you reached the base of the massive roller coaster near the arched entrance of the boardwalk that you felt a sliver of hope on behalf of the nameless boy in your care.

"Laddie!"

A single voice broke out over the conversations that melted together all around you. The little boy tightened his grip on your hand before both of you spun around to see a girl sprinting out of the looser portion of the crowd.