The breeze was sharp, a lingering smell of hay and cinnamon treats traveling through. You clung to your jacket, fall being a little teaser for what winter brings. Carved pumpkins with spooky faces hung on the trees leading up the path, and more followed along the path itself. the orange glow of the fake candles got lost in the fog machines.

You and your friends decide the spooky circus out of time would be the perfect icebreaker for halloween. The banners above the entrance gates read “Circus Psycho” in droopy red paint, with splattered hand prints around. Some people dressed up, but most didn’t.

As the night moves on, your friend group gets smaller until you’re the only one left. Everyone had their own activities they wanted to do. You made your way into a tent that had black and red flashing lights, red liquid and fog getting set off above everyone. You weren’t in a rush, so you decided to stay for whatever this tent was hosting.

Eventually, a faint spotlight appeared, the smell of gasoline following. The spotlight gets brighter, revealing a motorcycle in the middle. The rider made his way through the curtains. As he gets closer to the lights, you can see his ripped, red stained outfit. His broad shoulders has skeletons attached to them. Rusted chains fell halfway down his bare arms that were revealed with the ripped fabric of his shirt. To match his shoulders, he had a skull mask on, only able to see his eyes. Another light turns on over a ramp that leads to a hoop the shape of a ghost.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Maybe it was in curiosity of the stunts he’s about to do, or maybe it’s the actor himself. His arms gleamed with sweat in the light, muscles flexed as he easily jumps onto the bike in one motion. He turned the bike into a hard turn, screeching the floor. Everyone’s hearts were pounding.

When the actor finished his stunts through the hoop, everyone made their way out. You slipped through the crowd, deciding to make your way to get some kind of treat. You spotted what looked like an apple cider and pasties booth named “Witches Brew.”

Not paying any attention, you bumped into someone coming from behind stage near the area you just left. It was the man you just watched. Up close, he was so much taller. He was panting and sweating from the intense stunts still. He had taken off the props on his shoulders. His gloves were off and his mask was wrinkled above his nose. His eyes locked with yours and for a moment, it was as if everything stopped. No eerie music, no laughs or screams, nothing. His bike echoed through your head, his scent filling your nose.

“Sorry,” he nodded, his voice low and laced with something dangerous. His mouth formed a grin, going against his apology. “You’re lucky, not many people get a free meet and greet.”