I love the carnival, so you bet your ass, I am the first on the street when the parade starts. Popcorn, peanuts, cotton candy, and all the smells linger in the air. The music and side shows are joyous, neon colors bright, and lights sparkle. Ringmaster and barkers shout to the patrons, "Come one, come all!"

My friend Donald and I walk down the main street when I notice carnies on parade. A band plays festive carnival music, trumpets blare, and drums thunder. Something is not right though. Instead of bright colors, they all wear average street clothes. The clown cars and parade floats rust and fall apart. Many clowns are extremely tall, with long limbs and runny make-up that looks nightmarish.

I stare at Donald and motion toward the clowns, "What the hell am I looking at?" I said and took a drag off my cigarette. "Is this shit for real?"

"Do you think it's some kind of joke?" Donald asks.

"It is, it's fucked up."

"Who would go to their show?"

I laugh and continue down the street, "The desperate and deprived, bro."

Donald laughs and dances to the band's music, "Yeah, are we going to go?"

"Probably," I laugh and flick my cigarette away.

"We're pathetic."

"Yeah, we are, bro. Come on let's go."

We continue to watch the pathetic parade march down the road. Not paying attention to our surroundings, a cold air draft hits us, and we find ourselves in a thick fog. This is not a coastal town, fog banks do not roll in from the ocean, this is unnatural.

"Did the weatherman predict fog for today?" I ask, and try to find my hands in front of my face. Flick my zippo, the flame did very little to reveal anything. "You there, Donald?"

"I'm right beside you."

I hear footsteps, like dress shoes when they click on a hardwood floor. They came closer and closer, soon, they would be on top of us.

"Hello? Who's there?" Donald asks.

"Yeah, this isn't funny. Show yourself."

The clicks stop as if on cue, I can see a shadow just in front of us, very tall -probably around seven feet- and built thin. I hold my breath and wait for something to happen. Suddenly, a spotlight appears out of nowhere and shines on the shadow figure.

"What the…." Donald says.

I try to search for the spotlight's origin but find nothing. Of course, I have very little space in the fog to do a decent search. It will be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Still, I am sure, for some odd reason, that the light has no source.