It shouldn't be this hard, Spencer thought, somehow everyone else made it out of here. So he could too...
This pep talk continued for another ten minutes. He crouched by a wall, no idea where it lead or where he was, and took calm collective breaths. Surprisingly enough, his eyes started to adjust, and blurry shapes appeared in front of him.
Spencer blinked. The blurry shapes appeared to be moving, only slightly. Like water; a wave. He shook his head - probably going crazy from sitting in the dark too long. Something else caught his attention. A smell. Unpleasant, but unrecognizable. Was it rust with a mixture of something else?
Egh... he had to get out of here!
Who's idea was it to scare everyone once the power went out anyway? What a jerk, Spencer huffed, definitely not the time to play around.
Someone died for crying out loud!
Thinking about the dead girl made everything an extra level of creepy. Spencer groaned, reminded of the situation he was in. He took one last deep breath before deciding to resume his search for the exit.
"Hehe..."
Spencer sat right back down. What was that, he didn't dare ask aloud. He tried not making a sound as he waited for the giggling to return. Maybe that meant he wasn't alone? But was that good or bad...
His chest burned as his lungs begged for oxygen. He covered his nose and mouth and widened his eyes, as if that would help him see clearer in the dark. The images in front of his face were clearing up, however. Now he could make out some idea where he was.
The slightly moving shapes were curtains. Curtains meant the stage. Somehow he'd made his way to the back. No wonder he hadn't found a door yet, but now he had an idea where one was.
Spencer exhaled. Finally, some hope.
"Hehe... haha-ah..."
Spencer's heart leaped so hard it punched the inside of his chest. The giggled sounded so close. Almost as if it were across from him...
"La-la.. La-la-la-laaa... hehe!"
"I see a little clown... with a big tall hat..."
A female voice sang in a whisper. Spencer knew he wasn't alone now. Sweat dripping down his spine and his fingers trembled. Slowly, he slid against the wall, preparing to escape.
"I see a little clown with a funny nose... I see a clown with pointy toes..."
Creak.
Spencer whimpered. Something moved in front of him. A terrible thought entered his mind. Did no one clean up the body?
Was Taylor still hanging from the ceiling?
Step. Drip. Step. Step. Drip.
Wet footsteps came closer to his hiding spot.
"I like the clown who giggles all day long..."
Spencer tensed. The voice came directly from his right.
"I like the little clown who is happy as can be."
No...
Cold air brushed his earlobe as the eerie voice whispered, "I like the clown who dances for me!"
*****
"What was that..." Gerald's voice jumped in pitch.
They'd barely made it a couple feet from the theater when someones loud screams came from the inside. Gerald groaned, "Did we leave Spencer behind... someone please say no."
Blake's eyes widened and his mouth turned into a flat line, "Um..."
Jacob whirled around, "Get behind me."
With no objections, Blake, Gerald, Zach, and Aaron fell behind the cop. Jacob aimed the gun at the emergency door they'd just escaped from. Whoever let out that scream was bounding and scrambling to come outside.
Spencer's thin body burst out the door and crumpled to the ground. He crawled, digging his fingers into the gravel and dirt, desperate to get away.
"Spencer!" Blake called. Gerald followed, "H-hey buddy, glad you're alive."
Spencer didn't seem to hear them. He looked wild, like a small animal running from a predator.
"Kid!" Jacob said, "It's alright, you made it, just..."
Spencer didn't escape by himself.
Short legs staggered from the theater and out in the open. Everyone, except Spencer, turned to stone.
Taylor, the girl they presumed (with good reason) to be murdered, lurched and stumbled towards them. Her intestines dragged in the grass, blood still dripped from the large cavity in her stomach. But what's more; the strings that held her from the ceiling before were still intact. They carried her as if she were a puppet, and a ghost was the puppeteer.
Her arms swung clumsily, and her head was yanked backwards. The heavy make-up applied to her face came with painted-on eyes. Even so, the gaze from the false eyes, bright and green, pierced their souls.
Taylor's mouth dropped open, and the words flowed with no movement of her lips or tongue. Her voice even carried a tune, like she was singing a song, "I am walking through the circus. Happy as can be! I can see the lion sleeping... Look out! He sees you!"
