Page 19 of When Night Falls
I still grip my phone tightly in my hand, praying I won’t need it to call for help or to chuck it at some kidnapper’s head. Even in the brief moment of safety I was feeling just a second ago, my heart rate feels like it's running a marathon, my eyes move rapidly from one side to the other.
Breathe.
A breeze echoes by me, creating the trees to sway and just like that, I feel tension leave my body and my chest feels lighter with the relaxing pace of beating it maintains.
I check my surroundings in an effort to stay aware of where I’m at. I look to my left for a flash of a second, then focus my eyes to the trail in front of me, and that’s when I see the building come into view.
It’s literally the only thing at the end of the pathway; no parking lot, no other buildings. Just a random brick structure that stretches so wide I can’t see the start or end of it. No signs or windows or doors are visible leading me to an unknown feeling;is this the right place?
As I get closer to the building, the lights on either side of the walkway seem to fade and my instinct tells me this is where I have a massive chance of dying a dark and miserable death. I turn around just to see if my gut pushes me toward the exit but that’s when I notice . . . there is no exit.
The path starts right where my feet stand on the stone, seeming that what I traveled on has disappeared.
“Fuck this,”I mutter to myself in absolute torment but also a hint of benightedness as I decide to forget about the punch my gut dished out, telling me that this is not normal—or safe.
I don’tactuallybelieve that the trail that randomly appeared before me has now suddenly disappeared, do I? My mind is, again, playing tricks on me. So, I face forward and follow the rest of the stone walkway to the back of the building, if only in hopes that there really is a party where I can sneak a shot of something stronger than whatever the hell my brain is on.
As I turn the corner of the building, I reach the end of the walkway which puts me at the supposed entrance, guarded by a man of a size that seems crazier than a disappearing trail. He’s massive as fuck, standing impressively still at the entrance door, and I almost don’t want to approach him. So I stand a few feet back in fear that disturbing him will be my demise but before I have cold feet and decide to leave, he looks my way.
“Miss Claire. Do you have your ticket?” His voice is softer than he looks but I don’t miss the way it crawls uncomfortably between us.How the hell does he know my name?
I gulp down the lump in my throat and take an apprehensive step forward. I dig in my clutch for the invite I had shoved in there and hold my breath as I approach to hand it to him.
“This is the invite, Miss Claire. Do you have your ticket?” His whole demeanor is stoic and stale, robotic and .
I look down at the white paper, puzzled. It quite literally saysticket requiredbut I didn’t think anything of it.
“I thoughtthiswas the ticket,” I say nervously, not recalling anything else being left with the invite.
“I can’t let you in without it, miss.” His tone is stern, but I refuse to let this be the reason why I can’t get into this stupid masquerade party.
“But you know my name,” I point out with more confidence this time, feeling some sort of safety radiating off this giant mountain-man standing in front of me.
“You are expected. But rules are rules. There are more when you get inside. Ticket,” he states. And despite me beingabsolutely on edge about the whole situation and his mention of more rules, I’m eager to get in.
I decide to check my clutch again, knowing damn well the only things left in it are my wallet, my realandfake IDs, my lipstick and…
To my surprise, I feel a little edge of paper slide across the pad of my finger. It’s thick, like cardstock, and I can tell that it's small. I pull it out and examine it. Lo and behold, it’s aliteralticket, like the ones you tear off from the roll you’d buy at the store and use for a raffle. Or what you get from a carnival booth to pay for rides.
It’s about two inches wide and saysadmit oneon one side and there is a small barcode with numbers on the other.
“Of course,”I mumble to myself, surprised that I don't question how unbelievable it would be for this random ticket to find its way into my possession, just when I need it.
I look up at the bodyguard in front of me, feeling my insecure smile berate me for how stupid I must look, but he’s not paying me any attention. Instead, he’s looking straight ahead.
“Scan it there.” He tilts his head toward a small machine next to the door.
I give theenthusiasticman a glance before I reach out and place the ticket under the machine which radiates a small beam of red light as it catches the barcode. Suddenly, the door swings open and I jump in surprise.
“Have fun,” he tells me.
“Thanks?” I wave at him awkwardly—my conclusion comes out as a question—before taking a step forward to enter.
“Miss Claire, hang on to that ticket. It’s your only way out.” he warns me, still staring straight off into the distance.
I step fully inside the building feeling slightly perturbed as I stand in a dark hall with no lights. I turn around to ask the bodyguard where to go, but the door slams shut behind me,causing me to flinch and yelp. Just then, the hall lights up with a soft hue of neon blue lights flashing all the way down the single hallway, just like the path into the forest. I follow it down as silence accompanies me, hoping I’m not walking into a death trap.
It doesn’t take long before I reach another door and just as I reach to push it open, it automatically swings open for me immediately welcoming me with the mellow bass of the loud, moody lo-fi music and giving me a view to what looks like hundreds of people on a dance floor.