The screams weren’t fake anymore.

Neon lights flickered through the fog as you pushed through the crowd of costumed thrill-seekers, laughter and music echoing in every direction. Hell Fest — a traveling horror carnival that came alive every October, promising fear, chaos, and a night you’d never forget. You’d come alone this year, chasing the adrenaline, the smell of fake blood and popcorn, and the rush of being surrounded by fear without danger.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Every maze you entered was a blur of flashing strobes and guttural growls. Performers lunged, blades scraped metal, and you laughed each time, brushing off the terror like it was routine. But somewhere between the Dead Man’s Diner and The Doll Factory, you started feeling… watched.

It wasn’t the kind of attention that came with flirty glances or friendly jumpscares—this was different. Heavy. Intentional.

You first noticed him when you turned back in line for The Masked Cemetery Maze. A man in a dark, featureless mask stood several people behind you. Not moving. Not joking with friends. Just… staring. You laughed it off—probably a worker trying to get into character.

But when you left the maze, he was still there.

At the Chainsaw Alley, when you stopped to watch actors chase screaming guests, you caught the glint of that same blank mask in the reflection of a shattered funhouse mirror. At first, it was distant. Then closer. Then gone when you turned around.

Your chest grew tight as you moved through the next attraction, a slow, claustrophobic haunt filled with strobe lights and hissing fog machines. Each flash of light seemed to pull him closer—until, finally, one strobe revealed him standing in the corner of the room. Head tilted. Unmoving.

The air thickened. People pushed past, screaming and laughing, unaware that this man wasn’t part of the show. You stumbled backward, heart hammering, eyes locked on that mask that now felt burned into your mind.

The final light flickered. He was gone.

Outside, you inhaled sharply, the crisp night air doing little to calm the trembling in your hands. The carnival still pulsed with life—music, laughter, endless crowds—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been marked.

From somewhere deep within the maze of lights and screams, he watched you still.

Tonight, you weren’t just another guest at Hell Fest. You were the main attraction.