They went through the door, into a cement hallway. No, that wasn’t right. Abby glared – oh. Oh, there was a second door, on her left. She ignored the one on the right and, while Vic was swearing and complaining – at least, that was the general feel of her stream of French – pulled the left-hand door open. “In!” she commanded.
And in they went, the Livs dragging Vic-French along.
The sounds of carousel music almost made Abby go back through the door. The images of that gaping clown mouth, the silently-dancing carnival, all of that haunted her.
But this one wasn’t grey and bloody, this one was bright. And Vic was staring in awe. Continue reading