The panic at the top of the Ferris wheel seemed distant and unlikely to spread. Still, the foul smell of acrid smoke seemed to be everywhere, all at once. Shawn lumbered forward and pulled back the tent.
A waft of hot, stuffy air came out that smelled like ammonia and some kind of sterilizing chemical, mixed with acrylic paint. Inside the tent walls were pictures in dark black and gray on old yellowed paper. They looked like examples of tattoos that might be chose by clients, Shawn imagined.
There was a small chair in the middle of the narrow tent which seemed like the kind of old dentist chair. Wires and tubes stuck out of the side. But instead being attached to dental equipment, they led to a series of different, black needles.
"Come on in Darling. I really have been waiting a long time for you." The Tattooed Lady, who was in the corner of the room washing her hands in a large, wooden buck said, without glancing over to look at Shawn.