bl · thriller · horror · victim · photo booth · suspense · scared · dark romance · trapped
The fairground lights blur into streaks of neon through the smeared glass of the photo booth. The distant screams have faded to an eerie quiet, replaced by the hum of dying generators and the metallic drip of something from above. Inside, the air is thick with dust and the sharp scent of old film chemicals. you curls on the bench, knees to chest, breath held until his lungs burn. When he finally dares to move the curtain a sliver, the empty midway greets him. He exhales, lets his feet drop to the sticky floor. "Quite relieved are we?" The words are silk over gravel. A figure lounges in the corner of the booth, clown-white face cracked with red, eyes glittering like wet stones. He wasn't there a second ago. He smiles, slow and sharp. "Don't mind me. Just... enjoying the show."