Your deepest fears are taking flight...

Oh me, oh my, oh, what a fright / Your deepest fears are taking flight / Embrace the night as darkness spreads / Spread your wings and become undead.

With a sudden clacking, the dice sprung to life and rolled across the broad as all of the contents slipped out of the box. Everything fell out so neatly, it was unnerving. By the time the dice fell on snake eyes, the whole board was arranged perfectly, every single card and piece perfectly parallel to the board.

"That... that was quick, heh heh," said Sarah, taking a step back.

"I guess we might as well test it. You got the time, Mike? Mike?"

Mike felt like he was growing nauseous, holding his head in his hands and groaning. He felt like there was something inside his body that his body was fundamentally rejecting, but rather than purging the feeling, it became bigger and bigger until it was all he felt.

When he looked up, he didn't feel sick. To be clear, he didn't at all healthy; he felt anxious, hungry, and tired, but he also felt strangely light, clearheaded, powerful... one couldn't tell looking at him due to the white clown makeup and baggy clothing, but his skin was draining of color, and his fat was dissolving off his bones.

"Mike?" Joe repeated.

"Yeah," replied Mike. "I've got time."

He removed his clown nose and wig, which left him still looking a little silly, but with an eerie air about him.

"Card says I'm 'reborn.' I get an extra roll."

He picked up the dice, but paused, his eyes fixed on Sarah. She was still eyeing the board apprehensively, a blush of surprise still burning in her cheeks. The reddish hue made Mike's heart skip a beat. He got to "plap" it up with a few of the performers, mostly the female clowns, but it was all business, and gave him so little satisfaction after too many performances to count. In his fantasies, he'd always had his eye on the backstagers, the "forbidden fruit" who never so much as took off their shirts. Sarah was one of them, and out of all of them, she was one of the more conventionally attractive, in her professional looking ponytail and glasses, but with less makeup and cheaper clothing that gave her a faintly hopeful air of approachability.

The burnt olive skin on her neck was turning such a deep pink. Oh how he wanted to take her, to bite...

"Mike?" said Joe. "Your extra roll?"

Mike nodded. He threw the dice so hard they almost chipped, his arm cutting through the air like an airborne falcon. He didn't yet realize his strength with such small objects, which might have rolled out of the tent had they not ricocheted off of Joe's belly.

"Ow!"

The dice fell on the board. 11.

Mike moved his piece, the wolf, far up the board.

"Lucky 13," quipped Joe.

Mike picked up the dice and thrust them into Sarah's hands.

"What?" she said confusedly.

"Your turn," said Mike. He held her hands for a moment before relinquishing the dice. She shivered at his cold touch, while he savored the warmth, the warmth of her rushing blood...

Sarah swallowed. There was something weird about this game. She rattle the dice in her hand for a good few seconds, took a deep breath, and tossed the dice onto the board.