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The car hummed along the winding Colorado highway, sunlight flickering through the pine trees as it slipped across the windshield. The air outside was sharp with the promise of an early summer, the kind that felt like freedom after months of gray.

“Alright, you’re picking the next song,” Mia said, tossing a half-empty bag of Sour Patch Kids into his lap. He fumbled it, catching the neon-colored candies just before they hit the floor. She grinned, the kind of smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made him feel like Ethan’d just won something.

“Better not regret this,” Ethan warned, scrolling through his playlist with one hand while the other stayed steady on the wheel. The speakers crackled to life with the unmistakable opening riff of Bon Jovi’s ‘Livin’ on a Prayer,’ a choice that immediately made her roll her eyes.

“Really? We’re going full road trip cliché?”

“Hey, don’t hate. This is a classic.” Ethan cranked the volume, the opening lines pouring through the speakers.

“Tommy used to work on the docks,” he sang, putting on his best gravelly rock voice, glancing over to see if Mia would join in. She tried to keep a straight face, but by the time the first chorus hit, she couldn’t help herself.

“Woah-oh, we’re halfway there,” she belted, throwing her head back dramatically, one arm out the open window, the wind catching in her hair.

“Woah-oh, livin’ on a prayer!” Ethan shot back, pounding the steering wheel like a drum, grinning as she dissolved into laughter.

By the second verse, they were both shouting the lyrics, their voices clashing with the crackly car speakers, the sound of it bouncing off the trees lining the winding road. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world, their voices swallowed by the vastness of the Rockies, the song echoing off the stone and pine as they climbed higher into the mountains.

They’d been on the road for a few hours, trading the city’s gray sprawl for the deep, wild greens of the Rockies. The kind of drive that felt like they were leaving the rest of the world behind, carving out a little slice of adventure just for themselves.

He glanced over at her, her feet propped up on the dashboard despite his half-hearted protests earlier. Her sunglasses reflected the trees streaking by, a moving collage of green and blue and sun-bleached sky. She caught him looking and raised an eyebrow.

“Eyes on the road, mister.”

“Sorry, you’re just too distracting.”

“Mm-hmm,” Mia teased, leaning over to steal another handful of candy. “Just keep driving. I want to get to the lake before the sun fully rises.”

“Hey, we’ve got time,” Ethan said, taking a quick glance at the GPS. “It’s only a few more miles to the trailhead. Plenty of time to get lost, take a thousand pictures, and regret every steep incline we chose to ignore on the map.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mia shot back. “I’m built for this.”

He snorted, leaning into the curve of the road as the mountains grew taller around them, their jagged peaks slicing into the sky like ancient teeth. It felt like the start of something, a perfect day, a perfect trip. One of those memories you look back on and realize you never appreciated enough in the moment.

He reached over, his fingers brushing hers for just a second, the music thumping around them, the engine a steady hum beneath their feet.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Ethan said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

She squeezed his hand, a small, warm pressure that sent a spark up his arm.

“Of course,” Mia said, her voice softer, the teasing edge gone for a heartbeat. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

They settled back into the music, the road stretching out ahead, a ribbon of possibility leading them deeper into the wild.

The sun was high in the sky when they finally pulled up to the trailhead, the gravel crunching under the tires as Ethan eased the 4Runner into a tight, sun-dappled parking spot. The air outside was sharp and clean, scented with pine and the faint, earthy musk of damp stone. Mia was already unbuckled and half out of the car before Ethan had even cut the engine, her boots crunching into the gravel as she stretched her arms above her head.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder, already swinging her small daypack onto her back. “You’re the one who wanted to see this lake.”

Ethan fumbled with his seatbelt, grabbing his camera bag from the back seat. He stepped out into the mountain air, blinking against the sudden brightness. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long, flickering shadows across the forest floor. The trail ahead wound into the dense, green tangle of the Rockies, the kind of path that promised adventure but rarely gave warnings.

Mia was already a few paces ahead, her messy ponytail swaying as she picked her way over a tangle of exposed roots. Ethan jogged to catch up, the sound of gravel giving way to the soft, pine-needle hush of the trail.

“Hold up, nature girl,” he called, tightening the straps on his pack. “At least let me lock the car.”

She shot him a teasing glance over her shoulder, her eyes bright and playful. “Fine, but you’re carrying the snacks.”

“Deal,” he said, catching up and slipping his hand into hers as they crossed the trailhead. The air felt different here, fresh, alive with the sound of rustling leaves and the distant trill of a bird somewhere high in the branches.

“Think we’ll see a bear?” she asked, eyes scanning the tree line with a mixture of hope and caution.

“If we do, just remember you don’t have to be faster than the bear. Just faster than me,” he grinned.

“Good thing you’d gladly throw down with a bear for me,” she nudged him with her shoulder as they followed the twisting path deeper into the woods. 

They fell into a steady rhythm, the early miles passing in a mix of breathless chatter and comfortable silence. The air grew cooler as they climbed, the thick scent of pine gradually giving way to the sharper, cleaner bite of mountain air. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting fractured shadows that swayed gently with the breeze.

Ethan paused now and then, pulling his camera from its worn leather case to snap shots of the wildflowers clustered at the base of a jagged rock, or the way the light cut through the branches above, catching in the fine mist drifting from a distant waterfall. Mia would stop beside him, leaning into his side as he adjusted his focus, her eyes tracing the same lines of shadow and light through the lens.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just using this hike as an excuse for your Instagram feed,” she teased, watching him frame a shot of the sun slanting through a patch of aspen trees.

“Hey, nature photography is a legitimate art form,” he shot back, snapping the picture and glancing over at her with a grin. “Besides, I’m documenting our survival in case we get eaten by a bear.”

“Very reassuring,” she deadpanned, nudging his shoulder before breaking into a light jog up the path. Ethan followed, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the dense carpet of fallen needles.

The trail grew narrower as they climbed, the trees pressing closer, their trunks twisted and gnarled like the fingers of ancient hands reaching for the sun. The air felt cooler here, their breaths coming in soft, white puffs despite the warmth of the afternoon. Mia was the first to notice the subtle shift in the landscape, the way the trees grew taller, their branches denser, blocking out more and more of the sunlight until the forest floor was bathed in a soft, green twilight.

“Weird,” she said, pausing to catch her breath, her hands resting on her hips as she glanced around. “It got… darker all of a sudden.”

Ethan looked up, realizing she was right. The trees here felt different, their bark rougher, their roots thicker, knotting together beneath the thin layer of forest mulch. He pulled out his phone, checking the GPS, but the screen flickered, the map freezing for a moment before the signal bars dropped to a single, blinking line.

“Huh,” he muttered, tapping the screen. “I had service a minute ago.”

“You lost?” Mia teased, though her voice had a slight edge, her eyes lingering a little too long on the shadows stretching across the path ahead.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Just… tree cover, probably.”

But even as they kept walking, that quiet, nagging sense of being watched clung to them, growing thicker as the path wound deeper into the woods. The sounds of the forest felt muted, the rustling leaves and distant bird calls swallowed up by the dense, humid air, leaving only the crunch of their boots on the dry, brittle twigs below.

They kept going, Mia’s earlier energy fading into a tense, watchful silence, the light above growing dimmer with each step.

“Are we sure this is right?” Ethan asked, pausing to adjust the strap on his backpack. His brow was furrowed, eyes flicking between the uneven ground and the twisting path ahead.

Mia hesitated, pulling out her phone for the hundredth time, the screen flashing a weak signal before it disappeared again. “I mean… it was supposed to be a loop, right? We shouldn’t be this far off.” She swiped at the screen, but the map app stubbornly refused to load.

Ethan let out a low, nervous laugh, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Maybe we should’ve grabbed one of those paper maps at the trailhead. Old-school never dies, right?”

Mia shot him a half-hearted smile, the kind you give when you’re trying to ignore the creeping anxiety in your chest. She stuffed the phone back into her pocket, casting a glance over her shoulder. The trees felt closer here, their branches leaning in like silent witnesses. They should have been at the lake an hour ago. 

They walked on, the path growing narrower, the underbrush thicker. Shadows pooled in the hollows between the trees, stretching long and dark as the sun sank lower. A chill crept into the air, sharp and sudden, carrying the damp, earthy scent of wet leaves and old wood.

“Should we just turn back?” Mia whispered, her voice barely carrying over the rustle of leaves. She realized she had been whispering for the past mile, her words sinking into the heavy quiet like stones dropped into deep water.

Ethan hesitated, his jaw tightening. He scanned the dense thicket ahead, the trees forming a near-solid wall. Then, just as he opened his mouth to agree, a flicker of color caught his eye through the trees, a flash of something bright, out of place in the washed-out hues of the forest.

“Hold up,” he said, his tone shifting from cautious to curious. He stepped off the faint trail, pushing aside a curtain of wet branches, the cold droplets soaking into his sleeves. Mia followed, her breath quickening as the trees broke open into a small clearing.

It was there, on the other side, a winding dirt road, half-swallowed by the encroaching forest, leading down a gentle slope toward the faint, pastel glow of painted rooftops. An old, chipped sign hung crookedly from a leaning post just beside the road, the white paint cracked and peeling. Even from this distance, they could just make out the faded letters:

WELCOME TO FAIRMONT
ANNUAL SUMMER FAIR – TONIGHT ONLY

Ethan let out a low whistle. “Huh. Didn’t know there was a town out here.”

Mia stepped closer, brushing a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. Her pulse fluttered against her throat, a nervous, skittering beat. The air felt different here, the wind whispering through the trees like a thousand hushed voices.

“Do you hear that?” she murmured.

Ethan paused, listening. For a moment, it was just the rustle of leaves and the distant caw of a lone crow. But then, beneath it all, so faint it could have been his imagination, came the high, lilting strains of carnival music, just a few playful notes, carried on the wind like a child’s forgotten laugh.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at Mia. “I hear it.”

They stood there, side by side, the forest at their backs and the hidden town stretching out before them, painted in the colored hues of an old postcard, a place forgotten by time, and perhaps better left that way.

The dirt road led them down the gentle slope, the trees parting like an unspoken invitation, their branches bending in a slow, creaking sway as if whispering secrets to one another. The air grew warmer, the crisp bite of pine replaced by the warm, sugary scent of funnel cakes and caramel apples.

The first building they passed was a squat, whitewashed general store with a wide porch, its rocking chairs swaying gently, as if recently abandoned. A bell chimed as they crossed into the main street, the notes light and cheerful, ringing out over the distant strains of a calliope organ.

A woman stepped out from the shadows of the general store, her apron dusted with flour, her cheeks flushed a healthy pink. She smiled as they approached, her teeth perfectly straight, impossibly white. “Welcome to Fairmont!” she said, her voice bright and sing-song. “Just in time for the fair!”

Ethan gave her a quick nod, his fingers tightening around the straps of his backpack. Mia forced a small smile, a shiver trickling down her spine as the woman’s eyes tracked their every step, her head tilting just a bit too far, like a curious bird.

As they continued down the street, more faces appeared, men in rolled-up sleeves and wide-brimmed hats, women in brightly colored dresses with skirts that brushed the ground. Every one of them wore a smile, broad and welcoming, their eyes crinkling at the corners with the warmth of small-town friendliness. A child ran past, his laughter high and clear, his little hand clutching a bright red balloon that bobbed with each step.

Ahead, A little boy skipped rope near the popcorn

stall, his sun-bleached sneakers scuffing the pavement as he chanted a sing-song rhyme, lost in the simple rhythm. Her hair, a wild tangle of chestnut curls, bounced with each hop, catching the slanted afternoon light as the rope hissed and slapped against the ground. He grinned at the world, unbothered by the bustle around him, counting off his skips like he had all the time in the world.

“Friendly place,” Ethan murmured, giving a nod to a man in a bowler hat who tipped his head to them as they passed.

“Yeah,” Mia replied, glancing around at the painted shop fronts, their windows filled with handmade signs and carefully arranged trinkets. The whole place felt like a postcard come to life, the kind of town that seemed to exist just outside the reach of time.

Ahead, the narrow street opened into a wide town square, strung with bright, fluttering pennants and rows of colorful booths. The music grew louder, blending with the chatter and occasional burst of laughter from unseen corners. The air was thick and warm, carrying the sweet, nostalgic scents of cotton candy and freshly popped kettle corn.

Ethan exhaled, his grin widening. “This is kinda nice, actually.”

Mia found herself nodding, her earlier worries melting into a quiet, pleasant curiosity as she took in the scene around them. Maybe they really had just stumbled upon a hidden gem, a forgotten corner of the world where the clocks seemed to tick a little slower and their smiles genuinely happy to see visitors.

Mia tugged Ethan toward the red-striped popcorn stand, the buttery scent wafting through the warm air, cutting through the sweetness of cotton candy and the smoky char of grilled sausages. The vendor, a cheerful older man with a round belly and a paper hat, scooped the fresh kernels into a small, crinkling bag, the buttery oil leaving glistening streaks on his tanned forearms. He smiled as he handed it over. “F-fresh, right off the p-pot. Right off the p-pot,” he said, his words stumbling over themselves before he caught himself. “S-sorry about that,” he added quickly, his cheeks reddening beneath his paper hat. “Stutter gets me when I’m nervous. B-but it’s good, real good. You’ll see. Real good. You’ll see. Real good. You’ll see.”

Mia tried not to linger on the odd repetition, but a flicker of something like discomfort brushed against her mind, though it vanished as quickly as it came. She felt a small pang of sympathy, brushing it off as nothing more than a speech quirk. She’d known people with stutters before, and the way his cheeks flushed beneath the harsh lights made her chest tighten with a quiet, instinctive kindness. Speech impediments were hard, and it couldn’t be easy working the front of a busy stand, talking to people all day.

As they took their first bites, a burst of warm, salty flavor filled their mouths, the kernels perfectly crisp with just the right hint of sweetness. They glanced at each other, eyes wide with surprise, and burst into a shared, incredulous laugh, the kind that comes unplanned and feels like a small, sparkling rebellion against the ordinary. “Oh my god,” Mia said around a mouthful, barely managing to swallow before another laugh escaped, “how is this so good?” 

Ethan shook his head, cheeks full, eyes bright, and leaned in for another handful, his fingers brushing hers in the paper bag. “I have no idea,” he said, grinning. “But we’re definitely getting more before we leave.”

As they stepped deeper into the town square, the narrow streets around them came alive. Townsfolk emerged from shop doors, leaned out of windows, and stepped off painted porches to greet them as if they were long-lost friends. The air felt warmer here, heavy with the mingling scents of caramel apples and fresh hay, thick enough to cling to the back of their throats.

“Afternoon, travelers!” an older man in a striped vest called, his thick, graying mustache curling up at the ends like it had been carefully trained. He clapped Ethan on the shoulder as they passed, his grip firm but friendly. “Don’t see many out-of-towners these days! Mighty glad to have you here.”

A group of children skipped by, their laughter high and bright, their faces shining with the flush of too much sugar. One of the girls paused to look up at Mia, her smile stretching wide, her eyes bright with curiosity. “You came for the fair, didn’t you?” she chirped before dashing off, her red balloon bobbing in her wake.

Mia felt Ethan’s hand brush hers again, their fingers brushing together as they took in the scene around them. She caught his gaze, and he offered a small, lopsided grin, his shoulders relaxed.

They passed a butcher with broad, freckled shoulders. He wiped his hands on the cloth as they approached, his grin wide and welcoming. “Don’t be strangers now,” he called, his voice a deep, rumbling baritone that seemed to warm the air around them. “Stay a while, enjoy yourselves.”

Ethan gave a quick nod, pulling Mia a step closer as they edged past, their eyes drifting over the colorful shopfronts, the painted signs swaying gently in the warm breeze. The whole place felt like a living postcard, the kind of small town you read about in old magazines, preserved in time and untouched by the rush of the modern world.

“Where you two from?” a woman in a sunflower-yellow dress asked, her hands clasped in front of her like a patient schoolteacher. Her head tilted to the side, eyes bright and welcoming. “We don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to see some fresh faces.”

“Uh, Denver,” Ethan replied, his tone relaxed, the earlier edge in his voice fading. “We’re just passing through.”

“Denver,” the woman echoed, her smile widening, eyes crinkling at the corners. “My, that’s a long way. Must be nice to get away from all the noise, hmm?”

Mia found herself nodding, her earlier worries at being lost melting into a quiet, pleasant curiosity as she took in the scene around them. As they moved deeper into the square, more voices rose around them, each stranger greeting them with the same wide, toothy smile, the same eager tone. A baker in a flour-dusted apron waved from his shop window. A trio of elderly women knitting on a nearby bench called out, their needles clacking in perfect, rhythmic unison.

“Welcome!”

“So glad you came!”

“Stay as long as you like!”

Mia’s chest felt warm, her breath coming a little easier as she and Ethan exchanged a glance, the tightness in her shoulders easing as they were swept into the warm, bustling heartbeat of the town. Maybe they would stay for a while before asking for directions and heading out. 

As the sun dipped lower, the shadows stretched long across the cobblestones, the once-welcoming faces of the townspeople taking on a slightly sharper edge in the fading light. Mia noticed, for the first time, the way the smiles never seemed to fall, the corners of their mouths held in permanent, unyielding curves.

 A little boy with brown curls was near the stall with his jump rope. If she didn’t know better, Mia would have thought it was the same boy from earlier, but it had been hours at this point. His rope slapped the pavement in the same steady rhythm. He chanted the same sing-song rhyme, his feet never missing a beat, the curls bouncing in the cool evening air. Mia felt a small chill creep over her skin, the fine hairs on her arms rising as she realized she hadn’t seen the boy stop. Ethan nudged her shoulder, handing her the fresh popcorn, and the thought slipped away as quickly as it had come.

A group of teenagers laughed nearby, their heads thrown back, mouths wide, but there was something unnerving in the way they moved, all synchronized, like dancers hitting a perfectly timed step. A shopkeeper watched them pass, her eyes following their every movement, unblinking, her head turning just a second too slow, like a puppet on a loose string.

Mia’s pulse quickened, the warm glow of the fair suddenly feeling too close, the air too thick. She glanced at Ethan, catching the slight furrow in his brow as his eyes darted from face to face.

“Is it just me,” he whispered, leaning in close, his breath warm against her ear, “or is everyone staring at us?”

Mia forced a small laugh, the sound brittle in her own ears. “Probably just curious. We’re the outsiders, right?”

Ethan didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on a trio of old men leaning against a nearby lamppost, their eyes dark and glittering beneath wide-brimmed hats. They watched without blinking, their lips pulled into thin, unbroken lines, smiles that seemed to stretch just a bit too wide as the sky deepened into a dark, bruise-colored dusk.

The night had grown colder, the warm, honeyed glow of the fair’s lights casting long, twisted shadows over the cobblestone streets. The laughter and music had taken on a hollow, echoing quality, like the sound of a record warping under too much heat. The air itself felt wrong, heavy and damp, clinging to their skin like wet fabric.

Mia caught a glimpse of a little girl skipping across the square, her white dress glowing in the dim light, her pigtails bouncing in perfect, unnatural rhythm. She turned a corner, her small red shoes tapping against the cobblestones, the sharp, clicking sound echoing too long after she disappeared from view. Mia’s breath caught as she saw the girl’s shadow lag behind, clinging to the corner for a second too long, her tiny silhouette twisted and too thin, like a stick figure drawn with a trembling hand.

They passed a row of game stalls, the same brightly painted bottles clinking in the breeze. Ethan paused, his brow furrowing. Hadn’t they already walked past this booth? The same vendor with the thin, curled mustache and stiff, twitching grin stood behind the counter, leaning forward just a bit too eagerly, his hands resting on the splintered wood. As they moved on, Mia felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, the sensation of eyes trailing over her, cold and sharp, the way you feel the chill of a spider’s legs skittering over bare skin.

They turned a corner, and Mia’s pulse spiked. She grabbed Ethan’s arm, her breath catching in her throat. The same booth. The same bottles. The same man. His grin twitched wider as their eyes met, his mustache twitching as though trying to crawl off his lip. He said nothing, but his head tilted slowly, his unblinking eyes reflecting the twisted, flickering lights of the fair around them.

Ethan’s grip on her hand tightened, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. He glanced around, his eyes darting from face to face. The candy seller they’d met earlier was leaning against his cart again, his mustache twitching, the lines around his eyes deepening as his grin stretched wider, his teeth bared, his eyes too bright in the flickering light.

A group of children ran past, their laughter sharp and metallic, the sound scraping against Mia’s nerves. One of the boys looked back over his shoulder, his eyes catching hers for a split second. She felt her stomach twist. His eyes were solid black, pupiless, like polished stones reflecting the flickering carnival lights. His head tilted, his grin widening, and then he was gone, lost in the swirl of shadows and painted tents.

They passed a family of four, the parents holding hands with their two small children, each face frozen in the same wide, toothy grin, their eyes locked on Ethan and Mia as they passed. Mia felt their stares cling to her back, their heads slowly turning, necks creaking as they watched them move away, their teeth glinting in the harsh, flickering light.

As they pushed through the square, Mia’s stomach turned. The smell hit her first, sharp and sickly sweet, the cloying stench of rot cutting through the crisp night air. She glanced at a nearby stall, the one where they had bought kettle corn just an hour earlier, and felt bile rise in her throat. The once fluffy, golden popcorn had turned gray and mottled, wet clumps of it crawling with tiny, writhing maggots that spilled over the edge of the paper cones, the kernels splitting open like tiny, rotting teeth.

They passed the candy stand, its striped awning sagging, the jars of brightly colored sweets now clouded and fogged, the candy inside crumbling into dark, wet sludge. Flies buzzed in thick, lazy swarms around the glass, their bodies fat and slow, their wings flicking against the glass with dull, wet taps. 

“What the…” Ethan started. He stumbled, his foot catching on a loose cobblestone, and Mia felt his pulse spike beneath her grip. She turned, her heart thudding in her chest, and realized they were surrounded. The fairgoers had closed in without a sound, their faces turned toward them, their eyes bright and unblinking, their heads tilting in perfect unison, like flowers turning toward the sun.

A woman in a yellow dress stepped closer, her shoes clicking against the stones, her head tilting slowly as she moved. She smiled, her teeth too straight, too white, her eyes wide and dark, reflecting the twisted shapes of the shadows around them.

“Leaving so soon?” she asked, her voice too bright, too sweet, the words coming out in a slow, deliberate cadence, like someone struggling to mimic human speech. “But we’ve only just begun.”

Ethan grabbed Mia’s hand, his jaw tight, his pulse racing beneath her grip. He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “We’re leaving.”

Mia nodded, her heart hammering in her chest, the pleasant haze of the afternoon shattered, her skin prickling with a deep, primal unease. They turned down a side street, pushing past a small cluster of booths selling faded, hand-painted souvenirs and wilting flowers. The path ahead wound between two tall, twisted trees, their branches stretching overhead like grasping fingers. They ran without looking back, Ethan pulled her forward.

At the edge of the trail, they ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, the rough bark scratching at their arms, the chill of the forest swallowing them as they broke through the underbrush. For a moment, the oppressive heat of the fair faded, the cool, damp scent of pine and wet earth filling their lungs. Mia’s shoulders relaxed, her pulse slowing as the sounds of the fair grew distant, muffled by the dense trees.

But as they pushed through the final row of tangled branches, the trees suddenly broke open, the thick, cloying darkness giving way to a wide dirt road. Mia stumbled, catching herself against Ethan’s shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.

Ahead, the crooked, hand-painted sign loomed, its chipped white letters gleaming in the pale moonlight:

WELCOME TO FAIRMONT – ANNUAL SUMMER FAIR – TONIGHT ONLY

The pastel rooftops of the town stretched out before them, the same winding streets, the same flickering lights, the same faint, lilting strains of carnival music drifting through the cool night air.

Mia turned to Ethan, her eyes wide, her mouth dry. “How…?”

A rustling sound behind them made her spin, her heart slamming against her ribs as a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees, a woman in a bright, sunflower-yellow dress, her head tilted at a too-sharp angle, her smile wide and unblinking.

“Leaving so soon?” she asked, her voice sweet, but with a tightness that coiled beneath her words, sharp and brittle. “But you’ve only just arrived.”

Before Ethan could respond, more figures appeared, stepping out from behind trees, leaning out from behind the painted rooftops, their eyes bright, their smiles wide, their heads tilted in unison.

“Stay a while,” one of them whispered, his voice crackling like dry leaves. “There’s so much more to see.”

Mia felt Ethan’s grip tighten, his pulse hammering against her palm. She glanced at him, the fear in his eyes a reflection of her own, the realization settling like a stone in her stomach.

They stumbled back, Ethan’s breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as he pulled Mia down a side alley, the flickering shadows stretching long and jagged over the cobblestones. He dragged her toward a narrow gap between two tilted buildings, their chipped, pastel paint gleaming in the moonlight, their windows dark and watching.

“Come on,” he hissed, pulling her into the narrow passage, their footsteps echoing against the tight, brick walls. The air grew colder, the walls pressing in, the smell of damp stone and mildew clinging to their clothes as they pushed forward, their breaths misting in the tight space. Mia’s pulse pounded in her ears, each footstep landing with a sick, echoing slap against the wet ground.

They broke through the alley, stumbling into an empty courtyard, the ground slick with rain, the air heavy and wet. Ethan’s grip on her wrist tightened as he spotted another narrow path leading into the darkness. He yanked her toward it, his eyes wide, his mouth pulled into a tight, desperate line.

But as they pushed through the final curtain of hanging vines, the air suddenly warmer, the ground dry and cracked beneath their feet, Mia felt her heart drop into her stomach.

They stood on the edge of the same dirt road, the same crooked sign leaning toward them, its chipped letters gleaming in the dim, flickering light:

WELCOME TO FAIRMONT – ANNUAL SUMMER FAIR – TONIGHT ONLY

The town stretched out before them, its pastel rooftops and twisted, leaning buildings painted in pale moonlight, the faint strains of carnival music drifting on the breeze. A woman in a red gingham dress stood beside the sign, her eyes wide, her head tilted, her mouth stretched into a too-wide smile.

“Leaving already?” she asked, her voice high and clear, her head tilting further, the bones in her neck crackling like dry twigs. “But you’ve only just arrived.”

Ethan stumbled back, his breath hitching, Mia’s grip slipping from his hand as they stumbled back into the trees, the twisted branches clawing at their clothes, the shadows shifting, the ground soft and wet beneath their feet.

But no matter how far they ran, every turn, every twisted path, every darkened alley led them back to the same crooked sign, the same pastel rooftops, the same painted smiles watching from the shadows.

The fair was always waiting.

They stumbled forward, their breaths coming in sharp, ragged gulps, again they stood at the entrance of the town. The town before them was no longer vibrant, no longer glowing with pastel hues and carnival lights. It stretched out in shades of gray and ash, the rooftops sagging, the paint cracked and peeling, the windows dark and hollow. The air felt cold, dead, the faint, metallic tang of rust clinging to their tongues.

The streets were empty, the stalls abandoned, the bright pennants torn and swaying like dried, fragile skin in the wind. The music had stopped, the only sound the slow, steady creak of rusted metal and the wet, echoing slap of their own footsteps on the cracked, uneven stones.

Ethan froze, his grip on Mia’s hand tightening to the point of pain as shadows moved between the leaning buildings, figures stepping out of the darkness, their eyes bright, their mouths wide in an imitation of a smile.

“You can’t leave now,” a voice whispered, sweet yet sharp, the words rustling like dead leaves. “It’s time for the feast.”

The townspeople began to move, their limbs jerking and bending at impossible angles, the bones in their arms and legs cracking like wet branches, their heads lolling to the side, eyes never blinking, smiles never fading. They shuffled forward, their movements disjointed, the sound of creaking joints and splintering bone filling the air, their too-wide grins stretching further, the skin around their mouths splitting as they closed in.

The air was cold, biting against their skin as the town fell into a deep, unnatural silence. The once bright, flickering lights of the festival were gone.

Mia felt Ethan’s fingers digging into her wrist as the figures stepped closer, their limbs jerking and twisting, the bones in their arms and legs continued cracking, their heads lolling to the side as they moved. Their mouths stretched wider, the skin at the corners splitting, thin, dark lines running down their cheeks like cracked porcelain.

Ethan stepped back, his grip slipping from Mia’s wrist. She turned, her heart thundering in her chest, and realized they were surrounded. The circle had closed, the townspeople’s heads tilting in perfect unison, their eyes bright and hungry, their mouths stretched impossibly wide, their jaws snapping open and shut with a wet, echoing clack.

As the first of them reached for Ethan, he swung out wildly, his fist connecting with the brittle, paper-thin skin of a man in overalls. The figure staggered back, but only for a moment, his head snapping back upright, his jaw stretching wider, the dark lines at the corners of his mouth splitting further, thin ribbons of darkness trickling down his chin.

Mia needed to run, but her legs felt numb, her feet rooted to the cracked cobblestones beneath her. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to flee, but the icy grip of terror had wrapped itself around her bones, locking her in place. She could hear her own heartbeat, a frantic, irregular pounding that seemed to echo through the empty square, a stark, desperate counterpoint to the slow, deliberate clacking of jaws snapping open and shut around her. She felt the cold, damp air fill her lungs, sharp and metallic, like she was breathing in the rusted insides of an old machine.

Her mind raced, every thought sharp and jagged, splintering against the rising tide of panic. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. She felt Ethan’s fingers brush against hers, cold and clammy, their touch sending a shockwave of fear up her arm, and he let out an ear-splitting scream, a raw, animal sound that cut through the oppressive silence like a blade.

“Ethan!” she choked, her voice raw, her throat tight, the taste of copper on her tongue. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the sound almost drowning out the sickening wet crack of bone, the grotesque clatter of jaws snapping shut, the sticky, wet slap of flesh as the figures closed in. Their shadows stretched long and thin against the crumbling walls, twisting and bending, their limbs jerking with each unnatural step, their eyes bright and empty, their grins impossibly wide.

The air grew heavier, the stench of wet earth and decaying leaves filling her lungs, thick and cloying, each breath a struggle, each heartbeat a desperate, stuttering countdown. She felt her knees tremble, her vision narrowing to a tight, pulsing tunnel as the darkness crept closer, the last flickers of the dying lights casting jagged, twisted shapes over the cracked stones.

The whispers rose around her, soft and wet, like dead leaves caught in a slow, twisting wind. The circle tightened, they moved in perfect unison, their jaws clacking in a slow, hungry rhythm, the sound digging into her brain, scraping against her thoughts.

“Welcome to the feast.”

Mia’s scream caught in her throat, the sound swallowed by the crack of bone, the wet slap of flesh, and the cold, echoing clack of teeth snapping shut around her, the darkness closing in. She could no longer hear Ethan’s screams.

From somewhere in the darkness, the woman in the yellow dress stepped forward, her eyes wide, her smile stretching impossibly wide. She tilted her head, the movement slow and deliberate, her eyes reflecting the faint, dying glow of the moonlight. She leaned in close, her breath cold and damp against Mia’s cheek, her teeth clicking together as she whispered, her voice wet and rasping, each word dripping with hunger.

“We’ve been starving.”

Mia felt the words sink into her skin, the cold, sharp whisper threading through her veins, twisting around her bones. She felt her legs give out, her knees hitting the rough stones beneath her, the pain sharp and jarring, but distant, muffled beneath the rising, deafening clack of teeth. She had heard the myth, the stories of hikers going missing out here, never to be heard from again. 

But she had hoped it would just be Ethan, not her too.

She’d taken the wrong turn on purpose, her fingers tightening around the fraying strap of her backpack as she led them off the main trail. It was a small act of rebellion, a test to see if the old whispers were true. She had rolled her eyes at the local legends, brushing them off as exaggerated campfire tales meant to keep tourists in line. But a small, spiteful part of her hoped they held a grain of truth. It would serve him right, she thought, watching Ethan trudge ahead, his backpack swaying with each heavy step, oblivious to the way the trees seemed to lean closer, the branches whispering overhead. Maybe losing him in these woods would be a blessing in disguise, a clean break without the mess of confrontation.

She had made a terrible mistake. 

The last thing Mia saw was the woman in the yellow dress, her head tilting back, her jaw stretching wider, her eyes rolled back, white and sightless, her mouth was a dark, gaping chasm full of sharp, yellow teeth.

And then it was all dark. The sound of clacking teeth echoing against her skull, her final, ragged scream swallowed whole by the hungry, grasping dark.