"...Brendan Paget is currently being treated by psychiatrists, whilst Ernest Paget's funeral is being held at St. Catchpole Church next week.

The Paget family have been attempting to sue the park for the incident, but Scarefair had already proved that they have enough health and safety notices on display and that Mr. Paget shouldn't have even entered the 'Interactive Scare Experience' when he was aware of his condition.

Scarefair are still trying to show their remorse for the Paget family's loss and scare model, Willow Samhain (23), has already been questioned by the police..."

Willow had never expected her name to be in the papers. And if it was a surprise to her, then it was definitely a surprise to the rest of her family.

It was hard growing up with your mom being a popular weather girl and your dad a renowned lawyer. Even harder when your siblings were all much more successful than you too – a famous football player, an up-and-coming model... Even her youngest sister was already an honour student.

Yep, Willow definitely had a serious case of middle child syndrome. But at least now she'd had her own spotlight. Even if it wasn't quite the fame the rest of the family wanted to add to their name. Funnily enough, Willow had no remorse concerning the Paget family. She saw it entirely as the old man's fault – not her own. Just another reminder that she wasn't like most other people.

But regardless of who was at fault, her so-called 'fame' hadn't quite brought about the best consequences. Willow's requested presence in her manager's office that morning had not gone down the way she'd hoped.

"Based on recent... incidents, we're going to be changing your job role for a little bit," Debby had told her.

"So I'm being demoted," Willow had said flatly.

"No, no, nothing like that! We know it wasn't your fault. This will only be temporary," Debby had insisted. "We just want to show the public that we regret what happened and that we're trying to change how things work here."

"Right," Willow had replied in a bored tone, the words from the article replaying through her mind. Scarefair are still trying to show remorse. So apparently her being questioned by the police hadn't been enough. People were just all about image these days.

"So for now, we just want you to work in the ticket booth and in lost and found," Debby had explained. She'd then pointedly added, "You won't need to wear any costumes."

So that was how Willow had ended up sitting in the lost and found kiosk one afternoon, bored out of her mind. Although she generally disliked being around crowds of people, it wasn't very interesting being stuck in the quietest part of the park. Plus the nature of her job usually made up for the crowds.

She'd always thought of Scarefair as one of the best jobs in the world – second only to her weekend job, but that didn't quite pay the rent by itself. As a scare model working alongside the rides, she had the fun of terrifying people all day long.

Willow liked the thrill of adrenaline that came from being scared and getting to scare other people was just as fun. Not to mention she was great at her job. Being a long-time horror enthusiast, she knew a lot about what was scary and what people thought would be scary.

Yet apparently, she'd been too good at her job. Which was why she was now stuck in lost and found. Wearing boring clothes, working boring tasks.

After another few hours stuck in the empty kiosk, Willow was all but ready to put her head down on the desk and go to sleep. She'd never had to do the lost and found shift herself before, but clearly somebody had been doing it every other day. How had they coped?

"Excuse me, is your name Willow Samhain?"

Willow glanced up at her first customer of the day. He was at least several years older than her, wearing glasses and a neat dark suit. He looked more like a businessman than just another guy trying to get kicks from what the horror-themed amusement park had to offer.

"If you're a reporter, no. If you're anyone else, yes and what do you want?" Willow recited bluntly in her usual bored tone – the way she generally spoke to people.

The faintest trace of a smile passed over the man's face. "Actually, I'm a psychiatrist."

Wrong answer. "I think I've already spoken to enough people regarding the whole Paget incident," said Willow.

"Essentially, I wanted to speak to you on a more personal level," the man explained. "I believe it could be quite beneficial to you."

"I'm not the one who needs a shrink," Willow replied coolly. "And from what I've heard, Brendan Paget already has plenty."

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips again. "This isn't really about the Paget family. My name's Dr. Jonathan Crane and I think you might be exactly the kind of person I've been looking for." He then added pointedly, "I've heard you're very good at your job."

"So good that I gave an old man a heart attack and sent his grandson to a mental institute." She said it in a sarcastic tone, though the words were all true. "Is that really what you're after?"

Crane was unperturbed by her sarcasm. "Yes," he said simply, almost earnestly, as if the answer was obvious.

Willow raised her eyebrows. In principle, she didn't trust anyone. She didn't have any friends and she lived alone. The only person she felt she could rely on was herself. And even that was debatable at times. She didn't know what this man's game was, but she could tell that he definitely wasn't someone to be trusted. Even more so than the usual mundane people that passed her by in everyday life. And she had a feeling that the sooner she got rid of him, the better.

"Well, I'm sorry, doctor, but my mommy told me I shouldn't talk to strangers," Willow replied in an almost singsong voice. There rarely came a time where she ever answered anyone in complete seriousness.

Crane didn't have chance to reply – their conversation was interrupted as another customer approached the kiosk. Two customers in the space of ten minutes. Now why hadn't the rest of the day been like this?

"Oh and as you can see, we're extremely busy here," said Willow, the sarcasm ebbing back into her tone again as she indicated the single customer stood waiting.

"In that case, I'll come and visit you again," Crane told her sanguinely before leaving.

"You're a doctor. Don't you know you should make an appointment first?" Willow shouted after him.

"That's what the warning was for," he called back.

Willow scowled, unable to think of another comeback. She couldn't sit and silently fume, because the new customer was still stood at the kiosk, looking a little put out. Willow sighed and finally addressed him, "Can I help you?"

"I lost a dollar," said the guy shortly.

Willow stared at him, pan-faced. What was this; asshole day? "...I'm sorry to hear that?"

He clearly didn't get it. "Has anybody handed a dollar in?"

"I don't know what world you're living in, but people don't generally hand in money here," said Willow, hoping he'd take the hint this time.

The guy just stared at her blankly before stupidly repeating, "I lost a dollar. This is supposed to be lost and found, isn't it?"

Willow gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to point out that she'd heard him perfectly the first time and that she knew very well where she'd been forced to work for the last several hours. "If I give you any dollar, then will you leave me alone?"

He continued to stare blankly at her for several more seconds until he finally decided, "Yeah."

Willow sighed again, pulled a crumpled dollar bill out of her pocket and tossed it across the counter at him. "Here then. Have a good day," she said very pointedly.

Thankfully, this time, he took the hint and shuffled off, muttering to himself. Willow knew that she probably should have just enforced the rule that they didn't reimburse lost money – especially since she'd taken it out of her own pocket – but she just couldn't be bothered to argue.

When could she go back to being a scare model already? She could handle scaring people just fine, but having to communicate with them in a more basic manner? Not so much.

Plus if she didn't get moved from this kiosk soon, she was sure to lose her job for being rude to customers.

XXX

The following day, Willow was eternally grateful to be working at the ticket booth instead. Sure, there was a lot more of having to deal with people hands on, but it still beat being bored out of her skull on her own at the lost and found kiosk.

In one respect, it didn't really seem to matter where she was working. As soon as the crowds started to die down again, she discovered that her 'scheduled appointment' with Dr. Crane was as real as promised.

She quickly dove in first with her usual measure of heavy sarcasm. "Back again, doc? But I felt we covered so much in our last session."

"There's always room for more analysis," replied Crane in a faux good-natured manner. "I still don't feel we went into enough detail on why you're so good at your job."

"And why is that so important?" Willow shot back.

"Call it research material."

"The only thing I'll be calling is security if you don't give me a proper answer," Willow warned.

Crane seemed more amused by her threat than anything else, but he did still give her a bit more detail this time. "I've been conducting some experiments and carrying out research on what it is that people fear."

"Oh," said Willow. She hadn't been expecting that. "You could have just said that in the first place."

"Well, what I said wasn't exactly untrue," Crane pointed out. "It is still research material."

Willow scowled at him. "You'd better make this worth my time or I'm gonna lose interest real quick."

"Then maybe you should answer my question," Crane suggested pointedly.

Willow considered her answer for a few seconds, trying to think how to put it into words. "I like horror. I like anything to do with horror. I watch it, I read it... I create it. I know the kind of things that most people are afraid of. I know what works and what doesn't." She paused. "That's why I'm good at my job."

Crane was pleased with her answer. He had a feeling that he'd come to the right person. "So you know what scares people?" he prompted.

"Pretty much," agreed Willow. She wasn't trying to brag. This was just her passion – the one thing she was proud to know everything about.

"I do have another question," announced Crane.

"Go for it," said Willow, a little of her bored drawl creeping back. She was sure there was only so long she could continue humouring him.

"What were you wearing on the night of Mr. Paget's death?"

Now that was more the kind of twisted thing she'd been expecting to hear. Willow gave him a cold look. "And our time's up. Sorry, Dr. Crane, but this session's over."

Crane just responded with a shrewd smile. As a psychiatrist, he could tell exactly when he'd overstepped his welcome and when a patient would clam up and refuse to give away anything else. Willow wasn't any different in that respect – he could see it in her too. It was in the body language, the facial expressions, the even-harder-than-usual sarcasm... It wasn't a problem. Tomorrow was just another day to try again.

"In that case, I'll have to schedule another appointment for tomorrow," he informed her.

"Sorry, but I'm already overbooked. What with my AA meeting and my regular slot with my psychic," Willow replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

"Nothing like a late cancellation for the less important," Crane remarked lightly. He then turned and stalked off, once again, not allowing Willow the chance to think up another comeback.

She stood in the booth and glared after him, feeling irritated. How did he manage to keep doing that? For a second, he'd almost caught her interest when he'd explained briefly about his research, but then he'd turned out to be just another creep. If he really did turn up again tomorrow, then she wasn't going to be impressed.

Not long after Crane had left, one of the supervisors came over to give Willow a message. "Hey, Will, what time are you going on your lunch break?" he asked, a little warily. Several of Willow's colleagues found her to be quite weird. Something she'd never minded. If it meant that a few more people had decided to keep their distance, then that was just a bonus for her.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Dunno. In about half an hour maybe?"

"Oh, okay. Debby just told me to tell you that she wants you to go back on the lost and found kiosk after lunch," the supervisor explained.

Willow groaned. Could this day get any more annoying?

XXX

Despite the second tedious afternoon on the lost and found kiosk, Willow hit a stroke of luck. Because she'd managed to piss off two consecutive customers, she'd then been told the following morning that she was back on the ticket booth. Maybe being rude to customers was a smart move after all.

Good moods were quite rare for her and she certainly hadn't imagined to be experiencing one whilst having to work the ticket booth, but of course, it didn't last. Especially when it turned out that her favourite customer was hitting a hat trick.

She sighed when he appeared. "You know that I could easily get the security guards to throw you out, don't you?"

"Well, you'd need a reason first, of course," Crane pointed out.

Willow gave him a hard look before pointedly but flatly reciting, "As employees of Scarefair, we reserve the right to refuse service to any individual. Each of our opinions count as much as the next, we will not suffer abuse or harassment, yadda yadda yadda..."

"Refusing service doesn't really have anything to do with security," Crane reminded her, infuriatingly.

Willow scowled at him. "Okay, what do you really want? You've turned up for three days straight now and I'm guessing it's not just because you can't resist my natural charisma. If you have something to say, then just say it."

Crane cleared his throat. As usual, he was unruffled by her rather sharp attitude. "I actually have a proposition for you."

"Of course you do," replied Willow, sounding bored again.

She wasn't the stereotypical girl that most guys went for, but she'd still had her own share of attention. Usually from creeps who found her standoffish attitude to be simply another challenge. And from his recent actions, this appeared to be the case for Crane too.

Willow sighed. Well, she wasn't going to be humouring him for much longer. "So what's this proposition?"

Crane slowly took off his glasses and hooked them onto the neckline of his suit. He gave Willow a very deliberate look through startling blue eyes. "Would you like to see my mask?"

Willow raised her eyebrows. That definitely wasn't what she'd expected. "You have a mask?"

"Yes," replied Crane, lifting his briefcase up onto the counter and unclipping it. "I think that you of all people will appreciate it."

He pulled what looked like a shapeless sack out of the briefcase and continued to slip it on carefully over his head. It was made out of some kind of old burlap material with skewed features cut into a rough face shape. It was very macabre looking and Willow couldn't help but like it.

"Okay. Not bad," admitted Willow. "So what exactly do you have a mask for? Are you auditioning to work here or something? Because I'm not in charge of any of that."

"No, this is for more... personal affairs," replied Crane. He sounded amused behind the mask, like the words had hidden meaning. "And this is just the first act. We still have the encore..."

He reached back into his briefcase, but was interrupted by a couple who had joined the booth. They both gave Crane a startled look when they saw the mask, who swiftly but inconspicuously closed the briefcase to conceal the remaining contents. Willow had a feeling that it was probably going to be better for less people to know about this whole thing, so she hastily cut in.

"You think that's scary? You should see me with my makeup on," she commented in a remarkably light way for her, attempting to casually pass Crane off as just another scare model.

It worked. The couple laughed and both turned their attention towards Willow instead. "Two please," said the guy, handing over a couple of bills.

Willow took the money and stored it away in the cash register. She stamped both of the customers' hands. "If it starts to wash off, then come back and I'll re-do it," she informed them, the monotony seeping back into her voice.

They thanked her and headed off in the direction of the park's main attraction – the Interactive Scare Experience. As soon as they were out of sight, Crane took his mask off. Whereas the ticket booth was usually quite secluded on an afternoon, it was still a public place.

"Looks like I'll have to show you the encore another time," said Crane. He didn't seem bothered by the idea and, strangely enough, neither did Willow anymore.

"Let me see that," she said, as Crane had unclipped the briefcase again to put the mask away.

"Sorry, but this is for my hands only," said Crane, again seemingly amused by his own comment.

"Look, whatever it is you're hiding inside that thing, I really don't care," Willow pointed out, having noticed how carefully he'd pulled the mask on – like there was something inside that meant it had to be positioned in a precise way. "I just want a closer look."

Crane studied her expression, as if trying to decide whether she was telling the truth, then obligingly handed the mask over. Willow turned it round in her hands, inspecting it more closely. It wasn't a very neat job. The eye holes were cut crooked, the stitching across the mouth was very untidy and the hangman's noose around the neck was grubby and frayed... But that just added to the charm of it.

Well, in her mind, it was charm. To anyone else, it probably would have been classed as something more along the lines of 'creepy'.

"So I take it you like it?" asked Crane, bemused by the way she was eagerly looking over the mask like a child with a new toy. He knew for certain then that he'd come to the right person.

"It's simple, but it works," replied Willow. She stayed true to her word and just inspected the outside of the mask. She didn't attempt to find out what Crane was hiding inside it. "It has good character."

"Not the answer I was expecting," remarked Crane.

"Yeah, apparently I never give the answers that people expect," said Willow with just a hint of sarcasm this time, still studying the mask close up. "Most people don't get how Chuckie can be cute or how Michael Keaton can be kinda sexy as Beetlejuice... Or how much fear just a simple mask can trigger."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this mask is the scariest thing you've seen in a long time," observed Crane, still amused by the reverence in her voice.

"I wouldn't go that far. But it's not a bad attempt, doc. Not bad at all," Willow replied, the barest hint of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "So why don't you tell me why you've really been pursuing me? I doubt these visits have been just to show me a mask."

"I do have another proposition for you," Crane admitted.

"Yeah, I could tell that," said Willow. "If this is for a job of some kind, then I can't help you. I already have two as it is."

"And what's your second job?" asked Crane, mildly interested.

"I work at a zombie boot camp on weekends," replied Willow shortly. Most people had never heard of zombie boot camps and she got bored of trying to explain it when she knew that they wouldn't even be interested.

But Crane actually laughed at that. "Why am I not surprised? I said before that I thought you were exactly the kind of person I'd been looking for... Now I know that I was right."

"Meaning?" She didn't understand why he was being so consistently vague.

"That I could do with your knowledge for the experiments I've been working on," said Crane. Willow opened her mouth to cut in, but he held up a hand to stop her. "It's not a job exactly. Think of it as more of a... project."

"Fine, let's say I was interested in your project..." She made sure she put plenty of emphasis into the word 'was'. "You still haven't explained why you came to me in the first place."

"Isn't it obvious?" said Crane pointedly. "I read about the infamous Willow in the papers. Not everyone can scare a person literally to death."

"Okay, point," agreed Willow. She could hardly argue with that. "And just call me Will. I've never liked Willow much."

"How about Will-o'-the-wisp?" suggested Crane.

Willow actually had to fight a smile. You didn't get many people nowadays who'd heard of Will-o'-the-wisp. "Cute... But do you even know who or what Will-o'-the-wisp is?"

"Will-of-the-torch, Stingy Jack, hinkypunks, spook-lights, hobby lanterns..." Crane reeled off. "Which would you prefer?"

Willow couldn't quite hide her surprise this time. Instead, she gave Crane a curious look. "You just continue to surprise me, don't you?"

"Does that mean that you're interested?" asked Crane.

"You still haven't explained what this project is exactly," Willow reminded him.

"That's true," Crane agreed. "How about I show you instead?"

Willow raised her eyebrows. She had no doubts in her mind that Crane wasn't to be trusted and that agreeing to this 'project' probably wouldn't be the smartest decision in the world, but what was another skeleton in the closet? Maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity for the excitement that she'd been waiting for.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. "What the hell. If it's in the interest of scaring people – like you say – then I guess I can hardly say no."