Leave The Lights On || Winston & Kendal

Kendal squeezed then hand in his, smiling at how happy he felt. There was something about taking the girl of your dreams (though you barely had any) to a carnival. From the lights to the smell of cotton candy, Kendal just felt content with where he was at. Carnivals had never really been his thing, but Mary had wanted to go to one. If she wanted it, he’d give it to her. “OH!” he said, excitedly, looking across the way, “let’s go into the fun house!” The funky mirrors were something he’d always wanted to try out and now he had Mary to go in with him to try. They laughed, Mary agreed to go with him, and the man let them in with the few tickets they had left.

Kendal turned, kissed her temple and nuzzled her soft hair. Fun houses were just the name, fun houses. “Oh man…look at this mirror,” he murmured, pausing in front of one that made him tall and skinny. “I’m a bean pole!” he said with a spurt of laughter. Mary laughed with him and Kendal grinned. Her smile was sweet, it was infections. “And I’m a noodle!” she giggled, standing in front of a mirror that made her body wave up and down in a abnormal shape. Shaking his head, Kendal couldn’t imagine a better moment. She was smiling, he was smiling, they were holding hands, and were having fun. That is…until they round the corner to another section.

Things began to darken and Kendal’s heart sped up. Mary seemed to sense that, and she chuckled, looking up at him with reassurance. “Relax, Kendal, you’re fine.” Only it didn’t feel fine. The room was far too dark for his liking. Mary tugged his hand, pulling him into a different area that seemed to get only darker. “I don’t like this, Mary…” he whispered, “I wanna get out.” There was laughter somewhere in the distance and she only held his hand tighter. When something jumped out at him, Kendal ran. He dropped Mary’s hand, completely leaving her, screaming bloody murder. “Kendal!” she cried for him. “Help!” That’s when he ran into the clown. A fucking clown. After all the things he had seen, clowns weren’t especially scary. At least, Kendal hadn’t thought. This one, however, was worse than what he expected. It had a knife. Well uh, this couldn’t be a fun house anymore.

"Kendal!" he heard again. He felt helpless, though, and in an attempt to get back to Mary he only seemed to slow down. "Mary!" he searched for her. What he saw when the lights flashed on-so bright he couldn’t see anything behind the scene in front of him-he saw Mary, held by the hand of a clown at the throat. His heart dropped. “No,” he whispered, “Don’t do this, let her go!” Except the clown didn’t stop. Bright yellow eyes, that stupid red nose, the make up, it made him sick to his stomach. Clowns were stupid. They shouldn’t exist, especially ones with knives. Those shouldn’t exist. “Please don’t!” he screamed, shaking out of pure fear. Kendal fell to his knees out of pure shock. The clown wasn’t even a…funny clown. It was scary. Large, sharp, teeth were spread into a wide grin and it’s eyes were pale, so pale there didn’t seem to be any splash of color anywhere. Kendal shuddered when he felt a knife brush his neck. “D-don’t hurt her…” he whimpered, unable to do anything else. The clown laughed. Right in his ear. The one holding Mary brought the knife up, glanced over at him, before swinging it down and stabbing her. Mary dropped instantly. When her body crashed to the floor, her eyes caught Kendal’s. She was crying and even as the clown continued it’s job, slicing her like a deli man. Kendal thrashed and tried to break free from the hold that was now on him, but the cold knife got too close to him. “No! Don’t! Stop!”

It was too late, the light in Mary’s eyes were gone. Kendal sobbed, tears streaming down his face. “Why?! Why!?” he screamed. Shoving the clown away and curling up into a ball onto the ground. “I’m so sorry, Mary, so sorry, Mary…” Kendal wailed, “Mary.” He wasn’t sure if the clowns left or not, but as he cried and the blurriness of his tears persisted, Kendal saw shoes. Someone was there. He yelped, shook, couldn’t breathe correctly from the amount of fear that squeezed his chest. He couldn’t do this. He was weak. He didn’t deserve Mary as a friend. What had made him think he could protect her? She had died right in front of him. “Hopeless,” he whispered, he was hopeless.