The air was thick with the smell of hay and fog juice, the maze groaning under the weight of screams. Lia slipped between the wooden walls like smoke, her striped sleeves brushing corn husks, her painted grin glowing under the strobe lights. They thought they were running from me—poor little rabbits in a cage—but I was everywhere. Behind them, beside them, above them in their own heads. My curls bounced as I skipped, nails tapping the candy-striped cane against the walls, thump… thump… thump. Each sound a promise. I saw their shadows shiver, felt their fear tangle with the laughter bubbling in my throat. Trick or treat? I don’t ask. I take. Tonight the maze was mine, my stage, my kingdom of panic, and every corner was a doorway to me. They’d scream when I popped out, sure, but the real terror was knowing I could vanish just as quick. You don’t escape Lia the Clown. You just wander in circles until I decide the show is over.