World of Tomorrow

*Zoey’s Note* Hey guys! There’s too many words in this story to add a note, but please go look at the comments when you are done reading:)

TW: Graphic Descriptions Of Blood, Missing People, Scary Stuff, clowns, and some near death experiences

 “Mom, I told you that I don't want to go,” I whine, “you know how much I hate it there!“

    “Oh, it'll be fun, Dragen, stop acting like such a big baby,“ my mother groans, rolling her eyes.

    “But it’s the-“ I protest.

    “No “but”s except for yours out the door,” she interrupts, “we are going to the circus!”

     I groan. The circus would be fun, under different circumstances, but I’m terrified of clowns. Not only that, Granite’s Circus of Neverending Fun is the main hotspot where all sorts of people turn up missing. Rumors are that some have even died. 

      Some people will swear that their grandparents saw Amelia Earhart in that very circus before she was reported missing. I don’t know what the heck she would be doing in a circus in the middle of Indiana when she was clearly last somewhere overseas, but I suppose I might still believe them a little bit. The circus was, after all, the last place that my father was spotted.

    “Can I please at least bring a friend?“ I beg.

    “Yes, that would be great,” my mother sighs.

     I smile, my heart feeling several pounds lighter. 

     “Thank you, mom,” I say, giving her a big hug. I text my best friend Sawyer. 

    You: Hey man, my mom’s making me go to that creepy circus on Main Street today. Wanna come with me?

A couple harrowing minutes pass before he replies. 

    Sawyer: Bruh, of course, I’m going with you! Do you really think I’d leave you of all people alone in a “haunted” circus? You’d lose your crap! 

    You: Ok cool, thanks, man! Meet me in a few. I’m riding my skateboard.

    I let out a long sigh of relief as I put my phone back in my pocket. As long as he’s with me, today should be safe. 

     My eyes shift from side to side quickly as we step through the gates, unable to comprehend this strange explosion of colors. Everything is too far bright and happy as if it is hiding something. It obviously is hiding something; the circus is a literal child graveyard. 

    “S-so,” I stutter, “where do you w-want to g-g-go first?”

    “Hmmm, I-I don’t know,” Sawyer says, spluttering to make a mockery of me, “Let’s go to the F-ferris Wheel first.”

     “Bro, stop,” I say, nudging him in the elbow.

     He laughs.

     “But I don’t w-want to,” he protests, “I’m too s-scared!”

      A teasing smile is drawn across his ovular face, his brown eyes full of mischief. Sawyer loves picking on me because he knows how scared I get. It’s how we met, way back in third grade. He was in the same tour group as I was. We had gotten to a room full of dolls, and one of them was actually a living girl dressed up like a doll. Somewhere in the middle of the haunted house, a doll jumped out and legit made me pee in my costume. The rest of the tour was a nightmare, but he walked me out and let me borrow his old Halloween costume in his parent’s car. We’ve been inseparable ever since. 

     “Why do you want to go to the Ferris Wheel anyways?” I ask, “that’s, like, the lamest ride in the world!”

     “So that we can meet hot girls in line and go on with them,” he huffs, “duh!”

     “Oh, gotcha,” I concede, “you’re big brain.”

     “I know,” he smirks.

     As we walk over to the large, colorful, spinning wheel, I can’t help but feel as if I’m being watched. Despite this, we look to see if there are any cute girls that we can join. We can’t find any that are close enough. Right as we turn around to go back, a charismatic pair of girls steps in line behind us. Sawyer and I look each other in the eyes with satisfaction. Jackpot!

One of the girls is a red-head, fair freckled skin sparkling in the sun. She reminds me of the Twilight vampires. And she has gorgeous blue eyes. She’s not the one that catches my attention, though. The one that leaves me starstruck has warm cocoa skin and sparking brown eyes. Her hair is dark, and it sticks out in tiny strands of tight, curly black hair. She’s short and skinny, but that fierce half-smirk of confidence on her round face makes her seem a lot bigger. She’s beautiful.

       Sawyer seems to take interest in the red-headed girl, as he almost immediately begins flirting with her.

       “Hey ginger, I seem to have lost my number,” he says, looking confused, “can I have yours?”

       She smiles a little bit, obviously impressed. 

      “Dang boy, that was smooth,” she giggles in awe, “I’m flattered.”

      “I know right?” he says, cockiness in his voice, “I’m pretty good, aren’t I?”

       She laughs but seems nervous. The other girl gives her friend a nudge and whispers something in her ear. With that, the redhead locks hands with my best friend. He gives me a happy thumbs up and turns away. 

       Now the other girl and I are alone together. Every smooth sentence I was going to use flies out of my brain and I’m left stammering like an idiot. 

       “Hey,” I blush.

       “Hey,” she smiles.

       “What brings you to the circus today?” I inquire.

       “Well, I just moved here,” she explains, “and I heard about all the kids that go missing here, so I decided to investigate. You know, with my cousin of course. I love a good adventure as long as I’m not dying in the process. I guess y’all really weren’t kidding! There are, no joke, like, five missing posters on every corner!”    

       “I know, it’s unreal,” I start, “I’ve been looking into the cases of the missing people ever since my dad-” 

        I stop. I was going to say “ever since my dad went missing”, but I don’t want to say that out loud. I just don’t get it; my mom seems to have gotten over it pretty quickly, why haven’t I?

       “Ever since your dad what?” she asks curiously, her head cocked.

       “Went missing,” I say slowly, “he went missing after talking to a circus clown a year ago. Some people say they heard him scream.” 

        “Oh no, that’s terrible,” she says sympathetically, “I’m sorry!”

        I blink back a couple of tears burning my eyes. 

        “It’s fine,” I whisper, “so, you just moved here. Where did you move from?”

        “Houstin,” she answers hastily, “I hated it there. I didn’t have a lot of friends, and it was always very humid. I did like the beaches, though. I’m sad that there aren't any in Indiana.”

         “Well, yeah, we don’t have any beaches,” I utter, “but we do have some pretty sick pools. I go there during the summer all the time! Do you want to come with me someday?”

          “I would love to,” she smiles warily, “but my aunt and uncle would freak if they found out I went with a boy. Besides, I barely know you”

          “Who says they have to know?” I wink, “maybe we can get to know each other a little better.”

          She grins.

          “Next up,” the Ferris wheel man calls, pointing towards me and the girl.

          I step onto the cart steadily to maintain my balance, then, once I sit down, I hold out my hand to help the girl up. Her hand is warm, like the perfect day, and she has that autumn-y sort of smell: pumpkin spice and pinecones. I feel powerful holding onto her hand; not like she’s my property or something, but like I could do anything to protect this girl. I would do anything to protect her..

          She occupies the seat across from me, and everything stops. Time slows down as she gazes into my eyes caringly. I’m so lost in her own eyes that I don’t pay any attention to the clown staring at me from across the field as the Ferris wheel begins to spin ever so gingerly. 

        “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even realize that I forgot to ask you for your name,” she said suddenly, blushing a little. “I’m Amora Henson.”

          Amora. 

         “Amora,” I think aloud, “that’s really pretty. I like it!” she giggles, “My name is Dragen Fell.” I offer.

          “Ooo, Dragen,” she drawls, “I think that’s a pretty elite name too.”

          “I mean, I guess,” I laugh, “people will call me dragon all the time, though, which is super annoying.”

          “Can I start calling you Dragonfruit then?” she blurts, blushing quickly afterward “sorry, sorry, I’m so corny...I-”

         “No, no, go for it! I think it’s cute,” I approve. 

         “Ok good, cause I like it too,” she confesses. 

        We chuckle together, our laughter uniting as one. Her laugh is like a song that I can’t stop playing. I’m addicted.

         She squeals when we get to the top, clearly not a fan of heights. It’s slightly amusing to see her afraid, but I hold her hand to comfort her. This seems to calm her down a bit. 

         I’m sad once the ride ends because this means that we must part. I gaze at her plump pink lips longingly, wishing for just one taste. I think she’ll taste like the dragonfruit we like so much. She seems to know exactly what I’m thinking about, and she shifts, biting her lip. Unfortunately, she resists. 

      “Well, I’d better get back with my cousin,” she grimaces.

      “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I say, trying to fake a smile, “and I’ve got to go back to my friend. Well, it was nice meeting you, Amora!”

      “See you later, Dragonfruit,” she says, smiling with the cute nickname she gave me. 

     I blink and suddenly she’s gone. I miss her already with her pumpkin-like fragrance and daring, perfect personality. 

     I blink again and everyone is gone. 

     No seriously, the circus is empty. Everyone just disappeared. What the hell just happened?

    Sawyer does have a lot of charm. Maybe he convinced them all to hide. But in one blink? I don’t think so! 

     I look straight ahead and see a horrific sight; a clown in bright, happy colors gnawing a disassembled, bloody arm. His big blue eyes meet with mine and he waves the blood-stained, bodiless arm at me. I am both disgusted and terrified, yet I can’t pull away! 

     He seems to come closer with every second. I try to run the other way when suddenly a pink and white balloon toy (the color of dragonfruit) floats gingerly over towards me. It stops in front of me as if waiting for my next move. I just shove it out of the way. Some dumb kid must’ve left it floating around.

      It pops, making a sound that rings throughout the whole circus. This stuns me momentarily, and a human-like figure fades into view. 

No, not human. 

It has white, pasty skin, red, shiny, smiling lips, strings of red and blue face paint, and something that looks like a nerd costume. It’s the clown that’s been watching me all day.

      “Going so soon, Dragonfruit?” he muses. 

      I begin to feel slightly uneasy, especially with his use of Amora’s nickname.

      “C-c-correct,” I splutter, shoving past him. 

       “W-wrong,” he squeals, pulling me back.

       He opens his mouth, flashing thousands of rows of sharp yellowed teeth, and bites down onto my forearm. I let out a squeal of pain, unheard by the world. Blood trickles down my whole arm. His teeth pierce through my skin like knives. 

      “Dragen,” I hear a chorus of children's voices call, “Dragen! Dragen!“

   “Dragen, wake up,” a familiar voice screeches, “Dragen! What the heck, man? Wake up!”

   I open my eyes and see not one, but five identical variations of that same dressed-up nightmare, staring menacingly into my eyes. They each have the same sickening red grins painted on their pasty, white faces.

    “Go away,“ I cry, squirming away from his tight, hungry grasp. 

      Terrified, I ran from all five of them until finally reaching the House of Mirrors. 

     Oh, smart move, genius, I think to myself, the house of mirrors. This is the perfect spot for him to find you!

     Not really having much choice, I ran further into the glass-filled house, watching distorted variations of myself run from one mirror and onto another. I don’t even try to look back. I have to find some way to escape. 

     I hear sudden joyous laughter ring throughout the building, and I know I’m dead. Slowly, I twist around to see you-know-who - not Voldemort, but similarly dressed- grinning brightly as he hovers above me. 

      “Howdy, Dragon,” he rasps, “Oh how I’ve missed you!”

      Drool drips down his plastery chin, making me cringe.

      I cannot scream, nor can I move. I feel lifeless, like one of those crazy expensive, nightmarish American Girl dolls in my cousin’s room: no voice box, no joints, just stiff and unmoving with an open mind. 

      Your dead, your dead, your dead, my mind screams in a repetitive, never ending pattern.

     I wince as I stare at the clowns' yellowed, sharp fangs, trying not to break down from the tension. He desperately needs a dentist appointment. 

    He looks at me, his blue eyes illuminating, and grins, grabbing ahold of my arm. He’s just about to rip off my arm, when suddenly footsteps echo throughout the hallway.

    “Dragen,” I hear someone call, “Dragen! Where are you, man?”

    It’s Sawyer. No one’s here to save me, just a cocky, fourteen year old lady’s man. Perfect, now, we’re both going to get eaten alive! I just wish I could see Amora one last time before I go. 

    The clown seems to sense that I can not move, for I am cold and shaky from fear. He just puts a white gloved finger to his red lips, and chuckles a little. Suddenly, his pasty skin begins to turn beige, and he starts to shrink. My face turns white. 

     “Sawyer,” he calls him in my voice, “where are you, man?” The clown is my doppelganger. 

     “Don’t worry about it, I’ll find you,” he yells back.

      “No,” I shout hoarsely, “don’t come over here! It’s not me!”

       “Stop joking, buddy, you’re not funny,” he retorts. 

       Clown-me looks at normal-me hazardously , as if saying “say one more thing and I will flipping destroy your bloodline.” I should probably watch it.

        Despite this, I continue to scream for my best friend to run out and save himself while he still can. 

       “No, no, no, no, no,” I blabber, “I’m not joking! There’s a freaky shape shifting clown here, and I think he’s going to kill me.”

      “Ooo, sick,” I hear Sawyer say in awe, “sounds like something straight out of the mind of Stephen King! Wait up, man! I’m coming to save you!”

      “No,” I protest, “Just go! Forget about me!”

      “Be better if he came to join us for dinner,” I hear my own voice snarl from the mirror in front of me, “but just one is fine too!”

       Clown me transforms back into Joker- form, and pounces on my leg, though I try to jolt away. I feel an intense pain in my knee, and I can see the blood seeping out. I make a high pitched sound that I’ve never heard before, and wish I could look away from this revolting sight, but I am trapped. My leg seems as if it may have already broken.

       Right as I think he’s about to rip off my right leg, someone enters the room, cursing as he comes in. Sawyer. 

      “You weren’t kidding,” he says stunned, “wait a minute, unless this isn’t real. I’m dreaming. Yeah, I am... Hey clown boy, can you please come over here and pinch me so that I wake up?”

      I slap my forehead hard, hurting my already fractured arm.

       “Gladly,” the clown rasps, standing up.

        “Sawyer, you are so stupid,” I yell, “you’re awake! You’re awake and alive! You won’t be for much longer, though, because you’re an idiot! He’s going to eat us! Do you really want that?”

         I can see the fear bulging through his brown eyes as he comes to the realization that I’m right. He hides it well, but he is afraid.

        “Well then I guess he’d better come get us first,” he mutters.

        He runs over to me and holds me by the arm so that I can keep my balance, and we try to find our way through the maze. The clown continues to chase us down, causing anxiety to nearly burst open my pulse.

       Sawyer’s arms become wet with sweat, until I finally collapse off of them. I try to stand up so that I don’t die, but my leg throbs. 

      “Dragen,” he screams, rushing back over to my crippled body.

        The clown stands over us, his starved, happy stare peering into our souls.

        “End of the line children,” he drools.

         Laughter ripples throughout the house of mirrors. His mouth opens, and his rows of teeth fade into view. I close my eyes. This is it. I’m dying. I don’t want to watch this. 

         Suddenly, the laughter stops. I’m not dead. I open my eyes and see an arrow penetrating the clown’s head, yet he is not bleeding or even dead; he’s just unmoving. I look past the clown and see Amora, looking ready for combat. She has a sheath full of arrows over her back, and a pleased but terrified look on her face. She breathes heavily, as if she had just ran a thousand miles, yet she still looks perfect.

       “Hey Dragonfruit! Dragonfruit’s friend! What are you guys looking at?” she demands, “Let’s go!”