Text Circus

[Philip Ellwell 5,487]

RATED 17+ for blood and mild language. 

This is the first time I've posted anything in a real long time, so here's a short piece I wrote just for Halloween.

 

BASED OFF:

 

 

 

 

 

The eerie music drifted over everything, as they walked through the isles, past empty booths and rides running alone, the "Horror And Madness" themed carnival pretty much like a normal carnival except for..well, nothing. Even the scratchy record playing over the loud speakers was generic music you could buy off ITunes for a buck and a half.

"This blows." Jack whined, dragging his feet through the sawdust path, leaving deep ruts in it just to be annoying. He'd been to a lot of carnivals, and none of them matched this lousy one in any way: there wasn't even the usual scent of frying food and grease to on the air, just a rusty, metallic scent. 

Greg said nothing, still walking past shuttered booth after shuttered both. "They are open tonight, aren't they?" He asked nervously, catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, the canvas side of a tent rippling in the night breeze. 

"How the firetruck should I know?" Jack snapped, kicking a can across the path. It rattled noisily as it clattered away.

"Maybe they're closed for the ni.." Greg started to say, but a loud blast from the speakers cut him quickly off. The music changed to a much more upbeat tune, punctuate by horns, as lights started flashing into life all along the midway, rides clattering on, laughing clowns and fat women animatronics bursting on in a rush of sound. The sudden rush of light and sound made the whole place feel like an awakened beast.

Laughter and screams echoed from the fun house, as the sound of clattering wheels came from within, so there was obviously others in the park. 

A booming voice came over the loud speaker, deep and jolly: "Come on, come all, to the main tent this All Hallow's Eve! See madness, murder, and death like you've only dreamed! The cirque is waiting, friends! Let the show begin!"

Jack stared at the speaker, as Greg hurried on, pretty sure that announcement wasn't normal for a carnival, even one supposedly only Halloween based: Madness and murder? That wasn't the regular big top show material. 

The doors to the fun house creaked open at this point, and one of the cars whizzed by on its route through the dark ride: the cart's single occupant didn't seem to mind the ride was going fast, as the gaping wound across their neck had rendered them still and stiff, eyes staring blankly at the track ahead as the ride reclaimed the car, and the doors hissed shut. 

Jack shivered, but hurried on: It was...a prop, yeah! A prop to scare people on the ride..yeah...a prop.. 

A really good prop. The eyes had really looked wet, as if it had been crying. 

Greg was already in the big tent, the lights circling it like some idol from past times, the music blaring on, punctuated by dark laughter and what sounded like children. It was getting to Jack, who didn't even LIKE horror all that much: this whole mess had been Greg's idea. 

The big tent suddenly went dark, a single red spotlight on inside. 

Shivering slightly at the unnatural calm that came over the fairgrounds, Jack pulled the flap open, looking inside fearfully. He couldn't see much, only benches rising into a circle around the center ring, and a lot of twisting shadows, smoke lingering in the air, as well as more of the metallic scent. 

He stepped into the tent quietly, the red light glaring through the misty air. 

The spotlight was simple, set up near the entrance on a pedestal, the glass dome over the light slick with red. He touched it with his finger: blood...fresh as well. 

He backed away, holding his hand over his mouth as he gagged, the music swelling to an orchestral hit as the deep, booming laughter came on again. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...Our main performance! Greg, the living doll!"

Lights snapped on, and Jack let out a suppressed gasp as he saw what remained of Greg stuffed rudely into a clown suit, hanging from wires suspended from the ceiling, his too wide grin unnaturally cut into his face, and painted over with clown makeup. 

He stumbled back, tripping over a cord and causing the spotlight to fizzle out in a dying gasp of light, the body crudely manipulated in a grotesque waltz around the ring, a broken music box tune blaring. The laughter again, as Jack stumbled to his feet and took off running, the voice seeming to chase him, as well as children screaming and clown horns, the whole place a crazed rush of light, sounds, and madness. 

He fell, scraping his cheek, and curled up, sobbing into his knees to make it stop, please...

Footsteps made him look up: the ringmaster stood over him, eyes shaded by a lavish top hat, clothes stained with red. 

"W..why?" He stuttered, tears streaking his cheeks. 

The man laughed, and bent close, his breath rancid, corpse like, smelling of blood and rot. "Because it's what we do."

The screams echoed over the fairgrounds, quickly silenced. 

The merry ground's Calliope drilled to a dead stop, and the lights blinked out, one by one. The fun house slowed, and stopped, the glazed eye passengers jolted in their seats, none really caring at the moment: a woman's slack mouth dripped.

The air was still over the whole place, as the sounds of a meat grinder were heard. 

Another day of work done, the ringmaster sat down to his meal.

The next day, the carnival left.  14 people were reported missing by state police. 

There's little hope they'll be recovered. But good news: a carnival is coming again this summer. A nice way to forget the disappearances. It comes every year, but next year will be special. 

Very special indeed. 

Edited October 31, 2014 by Jack Nightshade Frost