CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND HAUNTED HOUSES

The line for the haunted house snaked down the fairground path, a mix of excited chatter and nervous laughter filling the air. The entrance loomed ahead—wooden boards painted to look like rotting planks, fake cobwebs clinging to the corners. A sign above read: Enter… if you dare!

Contessa studied it. “The warning is counterintuitive. It invites hesitation while encouraging participation.”

Maggie grinned. “That’s the point, hon. It’s supposed to be spooky.”

“Fear is an undesirable response.”

“Not always.” Maggie bumped her shoulder playfully. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

They stepped inside. The air was cooler, the lighting dim. A distant, eerie soundtrack played—low whispers, creaking wood, the occasional distant scream.

Maggie walked ahead confidently, but Contessa’s eyes swept the area. The shadows were arranged calculatively. The path curved to limit visibility. The placement of props ensured maximum surprise.

A figure lunged from the darkness.

Maggie yelped, grabbing Contessa’s arm. Contessa, unfazed, met the masked actor’s gaze. “Predictable,” she noted.

The actor hesitated, then slunk back into the shadows. Maggie groaned. “Hon, you’re not supposed to analyze it.”

They moved deeper inside. A sudden strobe of lightning illuminated a looming silhouette ahead. Maggie tensed beside her, but Contessa simply stepped forward.

A chainsaw roared to life.

Maggie jumped back. Contessa did not. She tilted her head. “The chain has been removed.”

The ‘killer’ froze.

Maggie grabbed her hand, dragging her past. “You’re ruining the fun,” she whispered, barely suppressing a laugh.

They reached the final corridor—narrow, flickering red lights, the scent of artificial fog in the air. Just before the exit, a figure leapt out. A bloodied ghost.

Maggie clutched Contessa’s arm again, barely stifling a scream.

Contessa didn’t react. Instead, she reached into her pocket and handed the ghost a cough drop.

They stared at her. “Uh… what?”

“You have been wailing hoarsely for the past six minutes. You require throat relief.”

Maggie let out a wheezing laugh and dragged her through the exit. Outside, under the crisp night air, she was still grinning. “You’re impossible.”

Contessa adjusted her sleeve. “I fail to see the appeal.”

Maggie squeezed her hand, still laughing. “That makes two of us.”