Fright Night
NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge 2019 Round 1 - Genre: Suspense, Location: A Petting Zoo, Object: A Fog Machine
“I wouldn’t want to be on the bad side of those gigantic horns,” I say, gazing into the black orbs of the great beast. “It says right here that a bull can eat about ninety pounds of feed per day. I’d hate to be the guy in charge of shoveling up his shit–er, I mean, manure. Don’t tell your mother I said that, okay buddy,” I say sheepishly. “Buddy? Mateo? Where’d you run off to?”
No answer. There was only the chatter of children racing from exhibit to exhibit, eager to get a chance to feed the animals loitering throughout the tent.
“Don’t you want to feed the bull, buddy?” I call out, shaking the little bag of cow feed. “Mateo?”
“Boo!” A pack of tiny ghouls screams. My heart jumps out of my chest and high steps it towards the exit where a contraption purrs jovially, laying a thick coat of misty white clouds over the tent. A fit of giggles spread amongst the ghouls as red corn syrup drip from the fake gashes glued unto their little green faces. “Happy Halloween mister!” the kids call out before disappearing behind the blanket of smoke.
“Stupid holiday.” I’d avoid it at all cost if it wasn’t for my son. He’d been talking about Fright Night at the county fair all month. I couldn’t let him down–not again.
“Excuse me, have you seen a little boy, about yay high, wearing a pirate costume. He has an eye patch and a hook…the whole nine yards.”
“No, I haven’t, I’m sorry,” says a lady trying to heard her two little medieval knights. “You should check the–Billy don’t eat that! The pellets are for the llamas,” she barked. “Sorry, you should check the other tent. The baby goats are the big attraction this year.”
“Baby goats, got it. Thanks.”
I step through a dense curtain of fog bellowing from another shuddering apparatus near the entrance. The smell of livestock assaults my nose and chokes down my throat as I move past a collection of motorized werewolves and mummies, their glowing red eyes and feeble snarls bolstered by the sinuous movement of the silvery haze. “Excuse me, where is the baby goat exhibit?”
“Over by the corner.” A teenage kid with a Fright Night at the Zoo badge cocks his head towards a wall of white smoke, not bothering to look up from his phone.
There was no sign of Mateo. There were only the adorable cries of baby goats jockeying for position as goat pellets rain down upon them by excited children draped in dollar store costumes.
“Hey, have you guys seen a pirate around here?”
“Oh yeah, his costume was really cool!” the vampire exclaimed. My chest inflates a little. I knew the eye patch and hook was a good touch. “He was over by the emus talking to some guy,” the kid continues.
My heart stumbles over the vampire’s words. Everything is fine, I tell myself as I rush over to the emu exhibit. What could go wrong in a tent filled with families? I’ll find Mateo by the emus, thank the fellow for looking after him, and then take my boy to get some popcorn.
“Mateo? Where are you buddy?” My heart turns into a full blow marching band at the sight of the deserted cage, drumming its cadence against my ribs, singing an unnerving tune in my ears. “Mateo,” I say a little louder.
He’s okay, you’ll find him.
“If you cancel another trip on our son then I’m calling my lawyer about visitations,” Mariana threatened last month when I had to miss taking him to the Spider’s game.
I barely get time with him as it is. “Mateo, where are you?”
A break in the thick sheet of white fog causes my knees buckle at the sight of a black eye patch discarded on the dirt floor. A prickle of fear slides down my arm and shakes my hand as I pick up the remnant of my son’s costume. Panic takes hold of me injecting cold water into my veins.
Tendrils of smoke curl behind me as I whisk past the throttle of ninjas, princesses, and astronauts, searching frantically for my son. I spill out of the tent in a whirl of anxiety. I scrutinize every child I run past until it all blurs together in a cacophony of plastic faces and synthetic wigs.
A vibration in my pocket pulls me from my nightmare. Mariana’s name glows on my phone. “Shit.” I look out unseeingly with my thumb hoovering over the answer button. What do I say? A glint of moonlight catches off the shiny pirate’s hook which lays on the ground near the parking lot. The wind howls against my ears as I kick up gravel and dust in my wake. A waterfall of relief cascades over me at the site of the miniature pirate standing between a row of cars.
The phone vibrates again. I know I can’t miss two calls from Mariana when it comes to our son. “Hey Mar,” I answer, dashing up to the back of Mateo.
“Hey, can you make sure you bring Mateo back at nine. He has a play date tomorrow morning.”
“Sure thing. We’re actually about to…” My breath abandons my lungs when I spin the pirate around to see the confused face of an unfamiliar child.
“Hey what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a red-faced man says, shoving me away from his daughter.
“What was that?” says Mariana. “What’s going on?”
I stumble back barely avoiding a car zipping through the lot. For a split second, I see the terrified expression on my son’s face trapped in the back seat, banging desperately against the glass. His calls for me are muted by the roar of the engine as the car speeds away into the night.
“Antonio, what’s going on? Antonio!” Mariana voice fades away as my phone crashes to the gravel.
