Dark Carnival (A Horror Anthology)

by Macabre Ladies

  Which was what he was doing when someone else sat down at the picnic table, on the opposite side, not directly across from Allen but at the other end. The table shook with the person’s sudden weight and Allen glanced up briefly, then looked back down at his game, where he nearly had a new house built. Then his eyes shot back to the man who’d sat down, his heart quickening.

  He was wearing a crooked old ballcap and a faded t-shirt, frayed from years of wear. Clutched in his hand was a turkey leg, which he ate greedily, the juices of it glistening in his black beard.

  It was Olen the Gorilla; dressed and acting like a regular human, maybe, but it was him. There was no question. He was staring absently at nothing in particular as he ate, perhaps seeing the crowds of people wandering back and forth, perhaps seeing his own imaginings. He seemed not to notice Allen at all.

  His presence made Allen nervous, given the way he’d acted inside the canvas tent. But he had to admit, Olen now looked like any other patron of the fair. Allen stuck the last of his cotton candy in his mouth and let it melt blissfully away. The sugar seemed to impart some courage.

  “You’re Olen the Gorilla,” Allen said, forcing the nervousness from his voice.

  The man looked over at him, wiping turkey juices from his face with the back of his hand, his eyebrow raised. Then recognition flashed in his eyes.

  “You’re that kid,” he said gruffly, “from a little bit ago.”

  Allen nodded. It seemed strange to hear him talking now. He half expected the man to grunt or yell something unintelligible.

  “Yeah, I’m Olen the Gorilla. But not right now. Right now, I’m on break and my name is Fred.”

  “Fred?”

  “That’s right—Fred.” He tore off a piece of turkey with his teeth.

  “So, you’re not a real gorilla?” Allen felt stupid for asking this the moment it left his mouth.

  Fred chuckled, chewed his meat, and swallowed it down. “Of course I’m a real gorilla. Didn’t you see me in there?”

  “Yeah… but I mean like a real gorilla.”

  Fred, seeming a little irritated, sighed, then tossed his meatless turkey leg into a nearby trash can. “Look, kid, it’s a job, yes, and I’m not a genuine biological gorilla, no. But whenever I’m in that cage—” he paused, as if trying to think of the right words “—I become a flesh and blood gorilla, as real as you’ll ever see. I feel it in my heart, kid. I feel the wild animal—the Congo gorilla in me—come out. It’s beyond biology, you see? It’s almost spiritual, kid, like I’m connecting metaphysically with all the Congo gorillas of the world and all the ones that have ever been. Do you understand?”

  “Kind of,” Allen said, even though he didn’t understand much at all except that this guy was really passionate about his job as a gorilla.

  “I’ve had regular jobs, of course,” Fred said, likely seeing the lack of understanding on Allen’s face. “I was bartender once. Worked in a warehouse for a while. Even owned my own business at one time. But no one appreciates you, kid. Customers and coworkers alike are rude to you. You go home every evening feeling beat down, wondering what your purpose is. Now… now I feel free, kid. And I feel appreciated. Whether it’s fear or amazement in a person’s eye when they see me as a gorilla, it’s equally fulfilling. It gives me a sense of accomplishment to see their reactions. It’s the best job in the world.”

  Allen considered this, finding that the man made a little bit of sense.

  “You been to see the livestock the FFA is showing?” Fred asked, smiling beneath his black beard.

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, you may be surprised by how few of them are biological farm animals,” he laughed, putting finger-quotes around the word biological.

  “You mean—”

  “Yup.”

  Allen turned to look in the direction of the pavilion where the pigs and cows and horses and whatever else were supposed to be. Most of that area was blocked by concession stands, however.

  His phone suddenly dinged, and Allen looked at it: “I’m here, dear!” it read.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said, looking sadly at Fred.

  “I understand, kid. Good talking to you. Tell your friends to come see Olen the Gorilla.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  Carrying what was left of the lemonade, Allen trotted through the county fair gates, where the old lady at the ticket booth yelled at him to stop running. Then he zigzagged around parked cars, looking for his mom’s. He spotted it near the back of the lot with its lights on.

  There were fireflies and he chased a few on his way but couldn’t catch them. He noticed the moon was out, almost full and bright as a bulb. The scent of corn dogs and popcorn was still on the air. And the scent of farm animals that maybe weren’t all farm animals.

  What a strange and enjoyable night, he thought.

  “Did you have fun?” his mom asked as he got in the car.

  “Yes,” Allen said. “I brought you some lemonade. Doesn’t have enough ice, though.”

  “Well, thank you, honey! That was so sweet!” She took the cup and took a sip from the straw. “Delicious!”

  Allen settled into his seat and buckled up, watching the neon glow of the fair as they pulled from the parking lot.

  “I thought you said Charlie would be at the fair tonight,” his mom said.

  “Oh… uh, yeah, he didn’t come.”

  “I know, dear.”

  Allen looked at his mom, confused. “What do you mean? Did you see Charlie?”

  “Well, yes. This was my first shift as their family dog. Charlie spent the entire evening having me chase a frisbee around.”

  5

  Fear Fest by Kristen Lester

  “Have you seen this girl? She was here a few days ago,” Sasha asked as she held up her girlfriend’s picture to the Ferris wheel operator. The man shook his head.

  “Can’t say I have. Lots of people come here, so it’s hard to say who I’ve seen and who I haven’t,” the man said.

  “Yeah… thank you,” Sasha said and tucked a strand of purple hair behind her ear as she walked away. Three days had passed since Kora and her friend Lauren vanished. The last Sasha heard from her was when she texted her that they’d arrived at the carnival. The police didn’t seem too concerned and even commented that she might be a runaway.

  Cops are all the same. They see someone with tattoos and piercings and assume they are trouble. Sasha took matters into her own hands. She twisted her engagement ring on her finger. Kora had proposed to her with it only a month prior.

  It was the fourth night of Fear Fest and Kora had talked about going for at least two weeks before opening night. For someone who loved anything weird and disturbing, it sounded like heaven, but Sasha had to work and declined to go with her. She suggested she take Lauren instead and remembered the excitement Kora expressed when she got her tickets.

  “I wish you’d just skip work and come with me,” Kora said with a frown in their apartment. Sasha finished putting on her barista uniform and put a hand on Kora’s cheek.

  “I know, babe. Go have fun with Lauren. We can go back together in a few days,” she said and kissed Kora on the lips. Sasha kicked herself for not calling in and going with her that night.

  Sasha weaved through the crowds of people and almost knocked over a skeleton man on stilts. Her hope was dwindling with each person she spoke with. What if Kora had run away? What if she’d been kidnapped? As these thoughts seeped through her brain, she noticed the people behind the game and prize booths were watching her. The hair on her neck prickled.

  From the right, a zombie clown and a witch whispered while they looked at her. From the left, behind a dart game booth, a man crossed his arms and shook his head. Up ahead, Sasha saw what seemed to be a sort of red and black circus tent. A tall man stood at the entrance and twirled a black cane.

  He wore a shiny, black top hat, with a worn yellow and purple striped suit. His skin was snow white and his eyes looked black from her
position. The man gestured inside the tent as people passed.

  “Come one! Come all! Come have a taste of our disease and indulge in the profane! Let me, Captain Carnage, take you on a personal stroll through Hell.” He beckoned as some people stepped through the tent opening. Captain Carnage glimpsed at Sasha and smiled a toothy smile. He tipped his hat to her and it sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the man really tugged at her the wrong way.

  Her eyes darted away from him and looked straight ahead as she passed by. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her with that smile. His mouth looked too wide to be human, but it must’ve been a trick of the light.

  Sasha pressed onward and continued through the fairgrounds. Her digital watch read “9:00” and she realized she had been there for three hours with nothing to show for it.

  “God damn it,” she whispered as people screamed from a nearby ride.

  “Psst! Girl!”

  Sasha turned. At first, she only saw people walking by, but her eyes soon caught an older woman waving at her from a fortune teller tent. She had long, gray hair that hung around her face and deep wrinkles around her eyes. She wore tattered clothes and some costume jewelry around her neck.

  “Come! Come here!” the woman called and looked from side to side as if to make sure the coast was clear.

  Sasha raised an eyebrow but went to her. Once she stood next to her, the old woman put her arm around Sasha and ushered her inside the booth. They went inside and the woman closed the tent flaps and turned to her.

  “You, you are looking for your friends, yes?” the woman asked with a thick, European accent. Sasha nodded.

  “How did you know—”

  “Never mind, girl, never mind!” the woman said and waved her hands. She held up a finger and looked around as if she were trying to hear something. After a moment, she looked back at Sasha.

  “I’ve seen your friends. They are here. They’re in the darkness now,” she said.

  “Where are they? What do you mean, in the darkness?” Sasha asked.

  The woman held her hands up to her lips as if to pray, and her fingers trembled.

  “The wicked have them now. Oh, it’s all our fault,” the lady said.

  “What’s your fault? What the fuck are you even talking about?” Sasha snapped.

  The woman took Sasha’s hands. Sasha felt them shaking.

  “So long ago, so very long ago, we prayed for an escape. We started these festivities as performers. We wanted to entertain, but they shunned us! That’s when we found our new god. The answer to our prayers!” she said.

  Sasha narrowed her eyes.

  “Tell me where Kora and Lauren are!” she demanded.

  A tear fell down the woman’s dirty cheek.

  “Please, child. Please, listen to me! We did not know what we were conjuring. We did not know the price to pay for salvation was our damnation!” she cried, and another tear dripped down her face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care! I want to know where my girlfriend and friend are. And if you can’t help me, then—”

  The woman tightened her grip on Sasha’s hands. She leaned in closer to her face.

  “He watches. He hears. The Captain. He controls us. He makes us do horrible things. You must leave now! You must go if you want to survive! Your friends are lost now!” she cried.

  Sasha threw her off. “You crazy bitch!” she snapped.

  The woman gasped as if she heard something.

  “I cannot say anymore! You must leave before it’s too late! Before you are in his grasp!” the woman said.

  “Go! Go now! Beware, child, for you are treading in dark waters,” the woman said, and half shoved her out of the tent.

  Sasha turned to protest, but the woman zipped up the flaps. Her heart sank as she felt the one glimmer of hope she had fade.

  “This is fucking bullshit!” she shouted, and someone looked at her as they walked past. Sasha clenched her fist and started walking without knowing where she was going. Soon she walked through a tunnel with corpses attached to the walls. She rolled her eyes at the effects.

  The tunnel opened into the entrance of what appeared to be a haunted house attraction. Sasha looked around and saw no way to the other side of the carnival except through the haunted house. Annoyed and tired, she walked inside. To her surprise, the place had no other guests besides her.

  A single blue light came from somewhere overhead. In the dim light Sasha saw props of severed heads and other body parts. As she walked forward, she heard a faint whisper.

  “H-help me,” the whisper said. Sasha shrugged and assumed it was part of the show. She heard sobbing and groans of pain. Again, she figured it was a soundtrack and kept walking.

  “P-please, Sasha.”

  Sasha stopped dead in her tracks and froze. Her heart was in her throat and every hair on her neck and back stood.

  “S-Sasha! H-help me!” the voice cried.

  It was coming from above her.

  Carefully, Sasha took her phone out of her pocket and turned the flashlight on. She did her best to keep her hand steady as she turned the light upward. Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a scream.

  Naked and nailed to the upper wall of the house was her friend Lauren. Blood matted her blonde hair, and cuts and bruises covered her body. The nails were through her hands and feet, just like Jesus on the cross.

  “Oh, God! Lauren!” Sasha cried through her hand.

  Lauren’s eyes were wide and filled with tears.

  “Sasha, help me!” Lauren begged.

  Sasha started looking around for something to climb on to help her friend.

  “I-it’s all real. The props, the monsters, everything here is real,” Lauren said as Sasha found a wooden box in the corner. She pushed it under Lauren and climbed on top.

  “It’s okay, Lauren, it’s okay. I’ll get you down and we’ll get you help. It’s okay,” Sasha sobbed.

  “Listen to me! Listen to me!” she begged.

  “I’m listening, I’m listening,” Sasha said and pulled at one nail. Lauren wailed and Sasha jerked her hand away.

  “She tried to warn us! T-the psychic! She tried to tell us that this place would kill us!” Lauren cried.

  Sasha fought off a shiver.

  “What are you saying?” she asked and brushed back some bloody hair from Lauren’s face.

  “S-she told us that she and some performers were mistreated and starving. She s-said that they prayed to a new god for help. Now they’re trapped. They’re trapped here like us! Jesus Christ, Sasha! They have Kora. I don’t know where, but they have her. These people aren’t people anymore! They-they’re something else!” Lauren said through whimpers.

  “Okay, okay, I’m going to call 911, all right? Just hold on, it’s going to be all right,” Sasha said and swiped open the phone screen.

  Then she heard voices somewhere farther in the haunted house. Lauren gasped.

  “Hide! They’re coming! They’re coming!” Lauren said and trembled.

  Sasha’s lower lip quivered, but she didn’t move. She saw shadows in the blue light coming closer and closer.

  “Hide!” Lauren cried.

  Sasha snapped back to reality and scrambled off the box. She kicked it out of the way and ducked behind a coffin. She did her best to control her breathing. Two men, one dressed as a court jester and the other as a butcher, came into view. The butcher was a heavy man towering over the jester.

  “Oh, what a shame. She’s still alive. She was going to make an excellent decoration for the attraction,” the jester said and crossed his arms.

  The butcher huffed and jerked the nails out of Lauren’s hands. She screamed and blood ran down her wrists. Sasha winced as he pulled out the nail in her feet. The butcher grunted and threw Lauren over his shoulder. Lauren screamed and tried to kick him, but he held her legs down with his left arm.

  “Well, take her to the grinde
r. Such a shame, such a waste. She really was such a pleasant touch here,” the jester said.

  Sasha watched them take Lauren out of sight with Lauren still screaming for her life. Sasha looked down at her phone, but her heart dropped when she saw no signal or data.

  “Fuck!” she cried in a silent scream. She shook as she eased herself to her feet. Something inside her pulled her to go in the direction of the jester and butcher. Sasha did her best to stay quiet as she crept through the house.

  “Take her to the grinder” replayed over and over in her head. What did that mean? Did she even want to know? She somehow kept her feet moving. Her mouth felt like cotton and she stumbled a few times because of her jelly legs. Up ahead and to the right, the jester and butcher carried Lauren through a door labeled “employees only”.

  Almost moving in slow motion, Sasha opened the door and saw that it led into a corridor with gray, concrete walls, and florescent lights. The sound of voices and the clattering of dishes came from a set of double doors at the end of the corridor.

  Sasha held herself against the wall and went to the doors. Lauren’s cries grew louder and louder the closer she came. Once at the doors, Sasha crouched and gently cracked them open. Her jaw dropped and her stomach twisted into knots.

  They opened into a kitchen-like area. Dismembered body parts lay on stainless steel operating slabs. The butcher plopped Lauren next to what looked like an oversized meat grinder. Sasha covered her mouth as he pinned her down with his hand on her face. The butcher grabbed a cleaver from the right and held it high over her throat. With one big swing, he brought it down and chopped through her neck. Tears poured down Sasha’s face as she watched him remove Lauren’s head and place it to the side.

  The butcher wiped the cleaver on his apron and then hacked away at her arm. After he severed the arm, he put it through the large meat grinder with the bones and tenders still inside the flesh.

  Another butcher approached him, took some already ground up “meat”, and molded it into a round patty.

  “Booth number six needs more burgers. Get that sent to them when you’re done,” the other butcher said. The one grinding Lauren’s arm grunted and kept at his work.