I'm Not Scared - Part One: Masked Men of Fear Island

I don’t scare easily. It’s not a personality trait; it’s a fact. The same way it’s a fact that my ex is a cheating liar, my landlady is nosy, and the only person I’ve genuinely liked in a long time is the strange man I meet in a convenience store at midnight. The one who wants to talk about death by paper cuts.

When he invites me to Fear Island, I don’t say no. Sometimes you have to think “screw it” and live your life. Especially when every bad thing that has ever happened to me was in a safe place.

But being chased by men in masks is one thing. What I actually get is nothing like what I signed up for.

First, a man in a Hannibal mask handcuffs himself to me and swallows the key, then a skull-faced giant tells me I’m disposable. My night is topped off by a security guard who pins my face into the dirt in an open grave and asks me if I’m looking forward to being buried alive. Yet it is the man who watches everything and gives nothing away who is the most dangerous of them all.

Fear Island is not for the faint of heart.

All I will say is: be ready to run, and no matter what, do NOT go near the cornfield.