The second time that the lights went out there was not just one scream.

Panic infected the already terrified teenagers as the darkness took them into it chilling grasp for the second time that midnight. Several electrifying screams rang out as if they were trying to shatter their captor.

Beowulf did not scream, he never had and he was certain he never would. The screams left a ringing sensation in his ear as he stood rigidly, trying to force himself to be appalled at his fellow classmate's immaturity. This was an old carnival, in all reality it was a miracle the lights had run as long as they had, he reasoned with himself. He had just about suppressed any anxiety that had rippled within him and was about to ask if anyone had been smart enough to bring a flashlight when, just as suddenly as it had left, the lights illuminated the fairground once more.

No one had to look around in confusion this time as all seventeen remaining eyes fell upon the ground where Jessica had fallen, only now she wasn't alone. Beowulf felt a slight gag in his throat as he stared at the mutilated bodies, their skin lay stretched out parallel to one another like bloodied bags that had been emptied of everything that made them worthwhile. His eyes traveled up the pale bodies toward the area where the heads should have been only to find they were gone, the torn tissue flapping forward in the slight breeze that carried the sickeningly metallic scent of blood into his nose.

Histerica erupted around him as everyone began speaking at once. "Oh my god! We are all going to die!" The words came from a dark haired boy with big, geeky glasses that seemed to kill the seriousness of his cry. "It's the curse! We are being picked off one by one!" A girl with a lion's mane for hair rambled, hugging her arms to her chest. "Not Brianna! She was my friend," a sob forced itself out of a girl's throat as she huddled into the arms of a boy, staring doe eyed at the remains. Beowulf ignored the chaos around him the best he could as he ran his gaze over the clothing of the three mutilated forms trying to figure out who they had been. He had to figure out what they had in common with Jessica to determine why they were being killed, and most importantly, if he was next. An odd feeling swept over him as he realized the sole male body was the body of the boy that had challenged Beowulf, asking him to explain the seemingly missing parking lot, just seconds before the second blackout. Beowulf would never have the opportunity to answer his question now.

"I'm done with this, we are just sitting around in a group like ducks waiting to be picked off! I'm out of here, it's everyone for themselves." Beowulf's ears perked up at the words, an athletic looking blonde girl was backing up from the group. Her hands raised in an attempt at a meager apology as a whole new eruption of communication rose from the group.

Curses ran through Beowulf's head as he watched the blonde girl sprint around a corner and others, too begin to run off. This wasn't right. They had to keep their strength in numbers and formulate a plan to get out of here, not run off to be killed off one at a time. "Morons!" Beowulf yelled, through his insult went mostly ignored. "We have to stay together! If you think for one second you stand a sliver of a chance alone you are wrong! Bloody imbeciles!" Perhaps if Beowulf had been actually been respected the others may have listened to him, but the external reverence that the students had practiced toward him had been just that; external. The only reason he was treated as well as he had been was because people had feared him and now they finally feared something more.

The group dispersed and there wasn't anything Beowulf could do to stop it, he was left screaming obscenities beneath the shadow of the ferris wheel alone. The only things that remained with him were the four corpses who could no longer run, though he was fairly certain that if they were still alive they would have been the first to run.

Heavy silence overfell Beowulf's mind as he finally fell let his voice die in his throat. He was on his own and he had no idea what he should do, his entire life he had solved problems by using others and now he had no one to use save himself. The light breeze tousled his hair as he subconsciously began to back toward the crumbling booths that lined the walkway like broken skeletons. He fought the sudden feeling of being very small as he promised himself that he was going to figure a way out of this, he was just too smart and talented to die here.

The lights buzzed suddenly, flickering like the wings of an insect. The hairs on the back of Beowulf's neck rose and chills tickled his spine as his muscles stiffened. The flickering continued for another few seconds before to stopped just as quickly as it had begun, leaving behind one dark figure standing only a few yards from him. Beowulf felt his eyes bulge slightly at the sight of the tall figure that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He couldn't move for a second, all of his muscles seizing as his brain screamed for him to run. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that this was the killer. The masculine silhouette was tall, taller than any man Beowulf had seen before this, though even if he had seen the man before he would never of known as couldn't see his face because the figure hung his head as if he were staring at his scuffed red shoes. A mangled, blood spattered clown suit hung from his scarecrow like frame and large tufts of greasy purple hair stuck from either side of his scalp. Beowulf wanted to laugh at the man for dressing himself as a clown, but he couldn't. It was as if a dark malevolence was leaking off of the looming man, striking fear into his heart.

Beowulf forced himself to swallow the giant lump in his throat and then take one small step toward the man. Running was stupid, screaming was stupid and sitting around waiting to be killed clearly hadn't worked very well for the four corpses that lay on his right. "It's brilliant, really. Did you somehow drug us to mess with our perception of time?" His voice got got caught in his throat making him flinch in irritation at himself. "Honestly I have no idea how you managed to get us lost in here or dismember those corpses so quickly, you really are very talented at killing things." Beowulf forced himself to take another step toward the man before him, fighting every instinct in his body to run. "Here's the thing, I think your talent for killing things shouldn't go unnoticed. Dead bodies can't spread your legacy, let me live and I'll do it for you." He took yet another step forward. "You name anything and I can get it for you, sex, money, maybe fame? I could even help you get away with it, you've killed four people it won't be easy to do alone."

The looming figure hadn't moved to this point, he simply stood there swaying slightly with the breeze. Beowulf wasn't sure the man had even heard him. Slowly, very slowly he reached forward to touch the man's shoulder.

The man looked up. Half of the his flesh was peeling from his face exposing the yellowed bone beneath and the black teeth that had his own flesh entangled in them. The flesh that was still on his face was painted a deathly white. Charcoal black was painted around his terrifying glowing orange eyes that leaked tears of blood. Beowulf stumbled backward, choking on a scream.

"The living can do nothing for me."

Beowulf was hitting the ground before he had even realized he had been pushed. An inky blackness encased the fairgrounds once more as the light fled in terror of this thing. Beowulf's entire body felt as if was being crushed by some immense weight, as if all of his bones were cracking beneath whatever it was on top of him. He struggled desperately, his arms and legs flailing as he tried to get the creature off of him. He felt a strangled scream rip from his mouth as something sharp pressed against the exposed flesh of his neck, slicing into it as if his skin was no more than butter. Beowulf ran his arm across the dusty ground grouping for anything to smash into the thing's skull. His fingers closed around a grimey rock, half exposed in the dirt path. Electrifying pain shot from his neck as he felt his flesh sliced deeper. He ripped the rock from the ground and smashed it into the creature's skull with every ounce of strength he had left in his body. The creature shifted enough so that Beowulf was able to knee the creature and topple it from his body.

A loud hiss curled into Beowulf's ears through the pounding of his own heart as the creature grabbed his coat Beowulf shrugged it free of his arms as he stumbled to his feet and began running blindly as the lights once again illuminated the fairgrounds. Terror intoxicated his body like a drug as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest completely. Before he had even realized his plan to hide Beowulf was ducking into the doors of a blackened building that hung open like jaws. The strong scent of mildew overwhelmed him as he stepped within them, pausing only to glance over his shoulder at the stilled scarecrow figure that moved closer toward him with every flicker of the dying lights.

Dim electric light shone from the glass floor, casting shadows across the mirrored maze that Beowulf found himself in. He didn't stop running as he recklessly tore through the labyrinth of broken reflections, quickly losing his sense of where he had come from. After what had seemed like forever he stopped moving and bent over panting, his mind spinning in terror and confusion at what had just happened. He slowly turned his aching neck toward the mirror, hardly recognizing the blood spattered boy who looked back at him. Was he losing his mind?

A flicker in the blackness in the mirror behind him caught his eye as a face seemed to materialize above his head, the decaying face of the clown that had attacked him appeared above him, it's white rotting flesh tightening slightly into a grin. "Wouldn't you like to be losing your mind?" It snorted, a gob of flesh falling free from it's cheek and splatting into Beowulf's shirt. He spun around in terror expecting to see the demonic creature looming over him, instead he was only met with several terrified reflections of himself.

"Over here." The unnaturally tall figure's silhouette loomed in the pathway between the mirrors behind him.

Beowulf began to run, his feet pounding noisily against the illuminated glass tiles. "This isn't real this isn't real, this can't be real." He murmured to himself as he tore through the maze, stumbling into a mirror that had been broken. A long clawed hand reached from the gaping hole where the blackboard should have been, curling it's freezing fingers around Beowulf's wrist. The claws raked across his skin as he yanked himself free and broke into another sprint.

"If we aren't real then why are you running, fool? Tell me, is the blood that oozes from your neck and the terror that controls your body like a puppet real?" The disembodied voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Beowulf didn't stop sprinting when the lights went out, he stumbled about blindly, knocking into mirrors and nearly tripping over his own feet.

When the lights flickered on and the demon stood before him grinning hauntingly. Beowulf skidded to a halt, the sound of his own breath rasping in and out of his aching lungs was the only noise he could hear. The creature took a halted step forward. Beowulf turned to run but every mirror held it, grinning at him, daring him to guess which way was safe. He didn't move as all of the demon clowns took another menacing step toward him.

Beowulf let out a ragged scream as he drove his fist into the nearest mirror. It shattered, it's long jagged pieces falling to the ground. "You can't do this to me!" He yelled smashing another mirror. "You can't fucking do this to me!" He reached down and grabbed a sharp piece of glass, brandishing it before him like a sword.

The demon's face appeared in the reflection, it smiled. "You poor little human, can't you see? I can do anything I want to you. You have no power here." It threw back its head and laughed, all of its reflections joining in, creating a horrible symphony of laughter. Beowulf began to laugh run through the isles of laughing demons, his blood bathed in sickening adrenalin that propelled him forward. "The only question remains, I suppose, is when I want to kill you. Now perhaps? Ten minutes from now? An hour? Your death though is inevitable, for you are already mine." It broke into another chorus of laughters as Beowulf stumbled from the darkness into the electric lights of the carnival.

He risked a look over his shoulders as he stood there trembling, the reflection of decaying demon dressed as a clown waved, pinching one of it's bleeding eyes shut before vanishing. "I'm insane. I'm fucking insane." Beowulf croaked, falling to his knees as if in surrender to the carnival around him.

The mangled frame of a girl emerged from the shadows of the house of mirrors. "No," she said drawing nearer to Beowulf and lowering herself to sit next to him. "What we are is fucking dead."