writing The Carnival AKA an idea I had that I wrote down for fun

[Grand_Finale 529]

I had an image in my head, and I felt like writing it down, its sorta halloweeny so I dunno, read away if you want.

 

The moon glares brightly as the worn and rusted gates of the park creak open. Its as you remembered,

almost. The remnants of children laughing and carnival music fill your mind and run through your veins

as you walk through the crisp october air. You smile as you fill your lungs with what you can swear

is the fresh, intoxicating smell of caramel apples. You trudge along peacefully until you reach

the carousel you spent many hours waiting in line for. It seems different though. The chipped paint

gives the victorian horses a strange and peculiar look. The lightbulbs that once lit up your imagination

as you were taken around the illustrated roundabout are shattered and cloudy. A feeling of loneliness washes upon you

as you realize this carnival is not what you dreamed of as a child. You continue walking. Suddenly you

come across the funhouse, and you swear you can hear the maniacal laughing of the resident clown.

You walk through, pulling your jacket to your body closely. The mirrors distort your body and face in odd ways,

though now instead of enchanting you it disturbs you. The smell of caramel is long gone now, and the

harshness of the wind seems to intensify. You walk quickly through the rest of the funhouse, dispersing

the sounds you hear as just an imagination thats run too far. The ferris wheel towers above you,

menacing and powerful. It gives you the feeling that it might break loose and chase after you at any moment.

You examine the worn and faded colours of the ride, though you keep a safe distance. Again, you continue on,

the feeling of anxiety and restlessness becoming all the more powerful. A rickety wooden roller coaster

now lies in your path, and you can hear the screams of delighted children, though the screams

seem distorted, painful almost. You know this isnt your imagination anymore. Youve had enough of the

old carnival. You walk down the street where performers would do what they do best, though

now it seems daunting. You can feel the eyes of the carnival on you, as if you are to entertain them.

You dont know what it is they want to see, and you hope to never learn. Finally you reach the rusted gate,

which feels like a prison now that your on the other side of it. You turn around one more time, hoping for

the nostalgia you had felt earlier, but instead you simply see the carousel. You watch carefully as it

begins to light up impossibly. The music plays, familiar and terrifying as the pastel horses

begin to spin. The pace quickens, and as the horses' eyes seem to devour you, you turn and run.

Perhaps visiting the carnival was not a good idea.