Funhouse full of fangs : Scary Stories – Short Horror Story

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The mouth as tall as the building unnerved me. Fangs painted with red, ready to puncture any courage I had left. Why send an old geezer into a funhouse? Don’t they know it’s dangerous? One fall against a trick mirror could be the end of me. I entered. I had no say in the matter.

A maze full of mirrors. Dim, flickering lights above allowed me to catch a glimpse of my living corpse. Was that really me beneath those wrinkles? The same fossil in every mirror. I could hear the voice.

“Keep moving. That way. This way. Don’t get lost. Face your fear!”

But my own voice only responded with an unintelligible blabbering of half-words and wheezing. My desire to find an exit increased with every passing second. I plodded through the room, the tips of my fingers sliding against the mirrors. Every minute or two, I would stop and scream at the mirror reflection. My mouth opened wide and a cave of pink, withering flesh stared back at me, gasping for air.

And then I felt the arms pushing me from behind. I turned around but saw nothing. Another push. Another bump. I felt dizzy and petrified of the invisible arms that prodded the thin layer of skin stretched over my old man bones. I continued walking.

I sensed an exit was nearby. Green neon lights with arrows guided me. A door appeared. Just as I reached out to turn the handle, two sticky hands tugged at the top and bottom of my mouth, trying to pry it open.

“Stop making this so difficult,” a voice yelled. “Open wide, nice and steady.”

Another pair of hands wrestled away something detached around my head. The brightness—almost blinding—made me queasy.

“Walter, just let us put it in, okay.”

A cluster of tears erupted, as a nurse inserted my dentures. Those horrible false teeth, a constant reminder that my life would soon cease to exist. The other nurse held the VR headset and powered it off. They brought me back to my recliner and patted my shoulders.

But I did not return a smile. I would not let the teeth win.

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