Funk-N-Fiction

Haunted houses and spooky carnivals are a mainstay of the season — and Tina Glasneck‘s feelings about them are evident in her flash fiction today!! (A feeling I share, BTW! LOL)
Be sure to check out the gift Tina is ofering to all of you after the story!!

Night At The Carnival
by Tina Glasneck

The sky had been painted in the damning hues of night. Stars far off probably twinkled, but were invisible to the naked eye, drowned out by the brilliance of the local carnival’s lights. The metal carnival rides creaked and groaned, their sounds muffled by the bells ringing as someone nearby won a prize – a goldfish gasping in a plastic bag, or an old stuffed animal with vacant eyes.

I teetered on rocky gravel, my feet unsure on what was considered no-man’s land between housing projects. But tonight, a carnival had come to town. Its bright lights beckoned us like invisible strings … or like a spider’s web seeking new prey.

The scent of sugar hung in the rural air, a reminder of summer nights with cicadas and fireflies. But how could those nightly sounds compare to the glory of the carnival?

Clowns with smudged makeup and masked figures darted through the crowd, offering thrilling scares. I clung tightly to my mother’s hand.

“There she is, being a scaredy-cat.” My brother’s scathing glare told me that he didn’t share the excitement dancing in the wind. “Maybe you should carry a candle, chicken.”

A candle might help me see, but not in a haunted house; that sounded like a fire hazard. Still, for a moment, I entertained the idea. Although who would need a candle in a haunted house?

But what happens when the monsters are real? I wondered. My mom patted my hand and let it go.

Waiting in line, shivers of fear clawed at me like a feral cat. I shuffled back and forth, kicking up light dust, wearing my most prized possession: my plastic Barbie slip-on high heels.

“Stop it,” my brother said. “Mom, she’s getting dirt all over me.”

He loved nothing more than diverting attention from his own mischief, I knew.

I stopped, tucked my chin, and stared at my feet, releasing only an uncomfortable chuckle. The closer we got to the impromptu haunted house, the more the fear grew, like a balloon about to burst.

“I don’t want to go,” I whispered.

“It’ll be good for you,” Mom said, patting my shoulder as if that would calm my racing heart, which thudded like rolling thunder.

Finally, our turn came and I held onto the cold metal rail while climbing the steps. My plastic shoes click-clacked. The man standing at the front pulled the chain up behind me, signaling that I was the last one in line.

Inside, I tip-toed as tendrils of light flickered. Some parts were simply mirrors, others had imposing figures ready to jump-scare. The corridor grew smaller, tighter, and my family disappeared from view.

Suddenly, large, rough hands seized me in the blackness.

I yelped in terror. My small fingers clawed at strong adult arms, pulling me away from where my family had gone, back toward curtains and light-blocking fabric. Back to what I was certain was no pleasant surprise. Unfortunately, my screams mingled with those of teenagers and others who chuckled along, all out of sight. They couldn’t tell that my shrieks and panic weren’t part of the attraction.

My legs kicked out, plastic Barbie shoes clunking on the metallic floors of the carnival’s haunted house.

Terror filled my mouth with the taste of copper, while the scent of his sweat and sour breath assaulted my nose.

Darkness.

Howling.

Stranger danger was all too real.

Seconds felt like hours.

My body writhed as I used all the power and force I could muster. It was more than a struggle but a battle—a battle for survival.

The fight didn’t leave me, even as the rough hand slammed over my mouth, pulling me deeper into the darkness. I knew what it meant. All the warnings at school and on milk cartons told of what happened to kids like me when the devil became real.

Arms flailed, feet kicked, and teeth bit.

Finally, those arms released me, and without my shoes, I raced out into the light.

That beautiful light meant I had survived.

“What happened to your shoes?” my brother asked, glancing down at my feet.

“I…I must have lost them,” I mumbled, and I walked on, wishing only to return home.

“See, I told you she was a scaredy-cat.”

I’ll never know if I fought back too much to stop from being an easy target. I’ll never understand why I managed to escape. But every Halloween, I wonder if he is still out there, waiting to take another little girl—a girl who could have been me.

Thanks so much for reading “Night at the Carnival,” based on the true story and why haunted houses still scare me.  I’m USA Today bestselling author Tina Glasneck and I love weaving tantalizing tales. I’m also a prolific game writer, creating 5e supplements for tabletop roleplaying games that connect with my fictional world. Check out the upcoming “The Haunting of Devil’s Hollow” game and its book, “The Bone Bone” on Kickstarter. Learn about me at my website, discover my books, games, and music,  and grab your Halloween treat by downloading a free copy of my perfect-for-the-season ebook,  “Hunting the Undead.”