Thunder in the Funhouse Mirror

Jordan's stupid fake-fur **hat** kept slipping over his eyes. He looked like a rabid woodland creature, which was honestly the point—tonight was the Haunted Spooktacular at the fairgrounds, and he'd agreed to work the zombie maze because Maya was working the ticket booth and he needed an excuse to talk to her without it being weird.

"You move like a drunk **bear**," Carlos hissed, adjusting his own gore-spattered makeup. "Zombies shuffle. You're doing the **Macarena**."

"I'm channeling inner turmoil," Jordan muttered, but fixed his shuffle. The maze would open in ten minutes. His stomach did that thing where it forgot how digestion worked.

Outside, the sky purpled weirdly, like a bruised peach. Storm coming. Perfect.

The first group came through—screaming middle schoolers, exactly the demographic that found Jordan's half-hearted groans absolutely terrifying. He got into it, actually. There was something freeing about staggering around, arms out, brains optional. No social anxiety when you were technically dead.

Then he saw her: Maya, slipping into the maze through the emergency exit with some friends. Her laugh carried over the fake thunder and recorded screams.

Jordan's zombie walk faltered. He tried to melt into the shadows, but Maya spotted him.

"Jordan? Is that you?" Her grin spread. "Nice hat."

"It's part of the costume," he said, then immediately felt stupid.

Outside, real **lightning** cracked the sky—flash-flood warning sirens wailed. The crowd stampeded toward the exits. Carlos grabbed Jordan's shoulder.

"We gotta evacuate. Now."

The maze's emergency exit led past the petting zoo, where the storm had spooked the animals. A massive **bull** stood near the fence, eyes rolling, horns gleaming in the stormlight.

"You got this," Maya said, grabbing Jordan's hand before booking it toward the parking lot. "Just walk confidently. Animals can smell fear."

Jordan squared his shoulders, adjusted his ridiculous hat, and walked past that **bull** like he owned the place. The bull snorted, looked away.

"See?" Maya called over the thunder. "You're braver than you think."

Jordan watched her run toward the parking lot, fake zombie blood streaking his cheeks, heart pounding harder than any storm. Tomorrow, he'd ask her to the fall dance. No zombie costume required. Just Jordan, in whatever hat felt right.

Sometimes the scariest monsters were the ones that lived inside your own head. And sometimes, you just had to walk through them.