Story 211: The Dark Carnival

The eerie sound of a calliope filled the night air as Damien Rook approached the Dark Carnival, a twisted, decaying version of the once lively fairground. The carnival’s towering Ferris wheel loomed against the moonlit sky, broken and unmoving. Red and white striped tents, torn and weathered, flapped in the wind like giant, ragged ghosts. Stories about this place had reached Damien—rumors of undead performers, cursed games, and something far worse hiding within the Big Top.

Lena walked beside him, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “I hate clowns,” she muttered, scanning the desolate landscape.

“I don’t think these clowns are going to be cracking any jokes,” Damien replied, eyes fixed ahead.