Night Carnival [FLASH FICTION]

Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes was the first classic I read cover-to-cover, so although this post a little late, I felt this challenge spoke to me. Also, I never realised he had such a methodical way of obtaining creativity; I think it’s wonderful to create your own inspiration. And, so, here is my attempt at writing a paranormal version of a evil circus… an evil that could be stopped, if somebody would just question the inconsistency in facts. Frightening, isn’t it, how curiosity could stop something so dangerous?

Words I chose to incorporate in my writing are bold. Hope you enjoy it! 🙂


The lake. The night. The crickets. The ravine. The attic. The basement. The trapdoor. The baby. The crowd. The night train. The fog horn. The scythe. The carnival. The carousel. The dwarf. The mirror maze. The skeleton.

I listened to this beautiful instrumental throughout the writing process. Fits the theme perfectly.


Even amidst the overbearing presence of a full moon, the murky lake remains ambiguous. It sits in eerie silence; waiting with a looming darkness that cannot be pinpointed nor expressed. A single glance at the lake sends a series of shivers through innocent human bodies, as the mere cloudiness is unsettling.

And, somehow, it rivals with the bright, flashing carnival situated within a four kilometer radius.

From a distance, one could perceive the carnival as jovial. The stream of glittering lights, sounds of delighted screams and enthusiastic announcers. Distinctive elements exclusive to fairs are observed; multi-coloured fairy-floss, a Ferris wheel for the scenery-lovers and a carousel with occupants of all ages. At first glance, an average passer-by wouldn’t batter an eyelid towards the festive atmosphere. Everything is normal. Everything is right.

But hidden within this carnival is a sinking madness. Although unnoticeable at first, the gradual feeling of unease escalates exponentially until it’s too late. A single step is like tumbling down a flight of stairs; once it begins, there’s no form of halting until impending doom.

It begins at the train station, leading towards the back entrance of carnival, where passengers from faraway places visit. This special occasion is everywhere –newspapers, telephones and large posters– which leads to it being a huge tourist attraction. But although the trains begin full, they disappear empty. An innocent may mistake this as a simple, “They use another form of transport when they arrive opposed to when they disappear” and not question the curious situation.

However, they haven’t noticed the pungent scent wafting from Room 103, reserved exclusively for staff, that increases with every passing day. They haven’t perceived the rolled-back eyes of victims, frozen eternally with glassy eyes and a mouth twisted in horror. And, most importantly, they haven’t relished the blood oozing out of the bite-mark seared onto their necks, finding pleasure in every drop.

On every perceivable wall, countless amount of broken mirrors reflect, preserve, multiply the fear etched onto their souls. The wickedness and fright in every human soul reflects in the mirror, an endless puzzle of horror. Their insecurities, hatred and jealousy… yet, even in this maze of negative emotions, only one dominates: fear, which consumes every inch of their soul until they drown.

No, the carnival evidently doesn’t have as many passengers leaving via train, that’s all. Everything is normal. Everything is right.

The carnival continues in its boisterous, flamboyant fashion… effectively concealing the darkness that looms beneath the surface, if only someone stopped to inquire.



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A Pleasant Tickling in the Brain

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Night on the Lake

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Lourdes Mint’s Mid-Life Miracle
Day 76 (Weekly Challenge): Ray Bradbury Twist — coins, balcony, Greece, suspicion, mother



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