From Twisted Roots

by Tobias Wade

  The Barker was standing opposite me on the other side. Instead of the tall, slender man with the thin mustache from before, he was faint and hollow. His skin was tinged grey beneath his threadbare red coat and collapsed top hat. When he saw me staring, he pressed his pale lips together in a grim, pleased grin.

  I was still screaming when the guys got off the swings a few minutes later.

  “God, what’s his issue?” Mac said.

  “Maybe he needs a nap.” Kirk laughed at his own joke.

  “Stop being assholes,” Billy snapped, and then to me, he said, “What’s your deal?”

  “I wanna go! Something’s wrong!”

  I tugged at his arm pleadingly, and he shot me a look of derision that normally would have turned my stomach. Now I just wanted to get out of there.

  “I have one ticket left. I’m going to use it.”

  “Billy, please!”

  While we argued, Mac and Kirk had become distracted by the carousel at the center of the carnival. I remembered seeing it when we first came in: finely painted creatures, both real and fantasy, threaded with shining brass poles and dancing up and down invitingly as they circled ‘round and ‘round. Now they were chipped and broken, their colors faded, and their poles tarnished. It was clear their dancing days were long behind them.

  That didn’t stop the pair from bypassing the ticket slot and climbing on their chosen steeds: Mac on a white leopard with only three legs, and Kirk on a horse with half its head smashed, leaving a jagged, splintery crater on one side where an ear and an eye should have been.

  “You’re sure we don’t need a ticket for this?” Kirk asked uncertainly, even as he swung his leg over the horse’s back.

  “The ride’s still going, so who cares?” Mac replied dismissively. “Hey, Billy, get your ass up here! There’s a little pink unicorn with your name on it!”

  My brother flipped him off, but told me to stay put and moved as if to join them.

  “Billy, I want to go,” I whispered again, clutching the back of his shirt.

  “Noah,” he said warningly.

  “Please,” I continued to hold tight, afraid to be alone, and even more afraid of letting my brother get onto that decrepit ride.

  “Get off, man, we’re not done yet!”

  He yanked himself away and started toward the carousel. A surge of panic propelled me forward. I’d hit my head and it made everything change for me, so I could only hope the same would be true for Billy. I didn’t give myself time to stop and think what might happen if I was wrong, or the world of pain I’d be in when he was done with me. I just swung my fist as hard as I could at the back of my big brother’s head.

  It connected with a crack, and he stumbled to his knees with a surprised, pained cry.

  “You little shit!” he shouted, grabbing at his head.

  He started to push himself up again, and I shuffled back a few steps. My eyes went from him to the carousel where Mac and Kirk seemed to think they were riding in a circle. Then back again as he whirled on me, his own fist raised to return my blow. He froze before it landed, his mouth falling open.

  “I don’t...what happened?” his voice was soft, mystified, and afraid. I grabbed his arm again, tugging him toward the exit.

  “You see it now too, right? We gotta go!”

  “B-but the guys,” Billy, still in a daze, glanced over his shoulder as Mac called his name again.

  “Where are you two going?” Mac cupped his hand around his mouth and twisted on the leopard as if the ride were taking him away from us, over to the other side, and he were about to lose sight of us.

  “Mac, Kirk, you gotta get off there! We gotta go! Now!” Billy’s voice cracked with agitation. Instead of heeding his words, the others laughed at him. “Guys!”

  His warning was followed by another crack, but this one wasn’t from him. It was a sharp, wooden snap. Then another, and the leopard that Mac was riding suddenly faced him, its head rotating completely around.

  The snarl it released was heard by all of us.

  Mac shrieked. Kirk swore. His horse with its half face had done the same as the leopard. They tugged at the safety belts around their waists, shouting for us to help them. We started running toward them to help them off the ride, but the gate at its entryway slammed shut in front of us. Billy grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me back again.

  From the carousel, there was another snarl. Another snap, and the guys were howling.

  The creatures, the horse, and the leopard, had all opened their mouths to reveal row upon row of all too real looking teeth. They sank those fangs into Mac and Kirk’s forearms. Kirk struggled, yanking and kicking, shouting at the top of his lungs. Even with his size and brute strength, the horse’s jaw remained firmly shut.

  Mac could only scream.

  There was a long, agonized groan of gears and wood. Slowly, the carousel started to turn. Mac and Kirk yelled for us again, begging us to help them off. I looked to Billy for guidance. He had gone ghostly pale, his lower lip quivering. He jumped when I touched his hand.

  “I’m scared, Billy!” I cried.

  The others rounded the carousel, disappearing from view. We still heard them screaming.

  Screaming.

  Screaming.

  When they reappeared a moment later, their arms had vanished up to their elbows down the throats of their mounts.

  The Barker was standing between them, smiling in delight.

  “Join us, my boys!” he said, throwing his bony arms wide. “There’s plenty of room for everyone!”

  “Go, go, go!” Billy had me by the wrist and was pulling me away.

  My legs didn’t want to work. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the Barker, who didn’t even try to stop us.

  “Do come back soon, my boys!” he shouted over the piercing, anguished screeches of our friends. “We’ll be here, we’ll be waiting, and we’re always hungry! As long as there are children, there will be a carnival!”

  Billy half carried me the rest of the way back to the bikes. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow, he just kept moving, making sure I was with him every step of the way. When we reached the embankment, he shoved me ahead of him, telling me to go and that he would be right behind. I sobbed and begged him to stay next to me, but he had to get his bike. It was an impossibly long climb back to the highway, and every few seconds I had to look back to make sure Billy was still there.

  Once we reached the top, we scrambled onto the bike, him in the seat, and me on the handlebars. He pedaled as fast and as hard as he could back to town.

  Mac Stanson and Kirk Blatts were never seen again.

  When the woods were searched, they did find the remnants of a carnival. Nothing but broken down rides and empty, half rotted booths and stands. They combed through it with careful precision, going through every structure. There was no trace of Mac, Kirk, or any Barker.

  “It hasn’t been used in decades,” we were told. “It’s abandoned. There’s nothing out there. It’s more graveyard than carnival.”

  The cops weren’t wrong about that. It was a graveyard, for Mac and Kirk and all of the other kids who had chased rumors of a secret carnival into the woods.

  We tried to tell them that. It needed to be destroyed, but that never happened. It was too much work, too much red tape, and eventually the disappearances of our friends were forgotten, and the carnival remained.

  Not that I really thought removing the items would remove the Barker. He was darkness, an infection. I’d felt it even as a child. All we could do was warn as many people to stay away as we could.

  Things were quiet for a time, peaceful, even, until about fifteen years later. A little girl went missing near those woods. Billy and I just looked at each other, and we felt the same sick certainty.

  It was active again. It was back.

  Because as long as there are children, there will be a carnival.

  Her Last Call

>   When my mother told me that Catarina was coming to stay with us for a few days, I immediately started going through all the stages of grief. First, I tried to deny that it was going happen. Mom just replied that I’d have a say in house guests once I started paying half the mortgage. That made me angry, so I gave her the silent treatment, pouty glares and all. When she seemed amused by that, I moved to bargaining; I told her I’d do all the housework for a month if Cat didn’t come. I got a pat on the head, taken up on my offer to clean more. Oh, and by the way, she was still coming.

  Depression and acceptance occurred at the same time. I was miserable while I cleaned my room, making space on the floor for the air mattress that my cousin would use, grumbling loudly the entire time.

  “Cheer up, buttercup,” Mom said as she passed my door. “It’s only for a week.”

  A very long, very frustrating week in which I would have to share my sanctuary with one of my least favorite people. Mom knew how I felt about Cat; I was very vocal about it, but it didn’t change the fact that she let my aunt and uncle drop her on our doorstep every time they went out of town. I was convinced they viewed their yearly vacation as a much needed break from their daughter, but Mom said that was a terrible thing to suggest. I wasn’t allowed to verify whether it was true.

  “You’re both a bit older now. Maybe you’ll have more things in common.” Mom was an eternal optimist. “Just try to be nice.”

  The moment Cat stepped into my room, I knew this visit would be no different than any other. She threw her things onto my bed, gave me a disinterested once over, and pulled out her phone. Only two years separated us, but Cat had quite the Queen Bee complex and couldn’t be bothered with someone so beneath her as fourteen year old me.

  Before bed that night, Cat took the invitation to make herself at home to the next level. She convinced mom that the air mattress would be too uncomfortable and cause her back pain, so I was forced to switch. Cat watched me get settled on the mattress with a victorious smirk, and I wanted nothing more than to bean her in her face with whatever was closest at hand. While I struggled to find a comfortable position, she reclined against her pillows and blasted obnoxiously loud music from her phone.

  I’d only just managed to get Catarina to turn off her music, shut off the light, and agree to sleep, when her phone rang. Instantly I was sitting upright again, one of my pillows in hand, aiming at my cousin.

  “Don’t you dare answer it,” I said in warning.

  She scoffed and I was reminded, once again, why I disliked her so strongly. I launched the pillow at Cat’s face, but she smacked it aside and flipped me off before answering her phone. To annoy me further, she put the call on speaker.

  “Who is this?”

  “Catarina?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Th-this is Virginia Press, from school?” There was something odd about the way the girl spoke: a nervous, twitchy energy that made me uncomfortable.

  “Virgin?” Cat asked incredulously. “How did you get my number? Why the hell are you even calling me?”

  “Because there’s something I need to-to say to you.”

  “This couldn’t, like, wait until Monday?”

  “N-no, I need to say it now.”

  Cat heaved a put upon sigh. “Fine, whatever, but when you’re done, delete my number. I don’t need weirdos like you calling me and pretending we’re friends.”

  “Th-that’s your problem,” Virginia said, her voice thick with trembling emotion. “You treat people like crap! You say what you want, you hurt our feelings, but you don’t care!”

  “This is why you cal—”

  “Shut up!” The girl was shouting into the phone. “You always get to do the talking, but it’s my turn now! You’re a horrible person, Catarina! You’re nasty, and mean, and you make everyone who isn’t just like you miserable!”

  The shock that crossed Catarina’s face was delicious. I doubted anyone had ever spoken to her that way, and I was only too happy to have a front row seat when it finally happened.

  “You’ve made me miserable for so long. I know it was you who made everyone start calling me Virgin. I know it was you who photoshopped those pictures of me, and I know it was you who started the rumors about me being a lesbian. I can’t go into the locker room or bathroom anymore without people screaming that I’m trying to look at them!”

  Catarina mimed a yawn at me. I scowled. This poor girl was obviously hurting, and Cat couldn’t have cared less.

  “People started calling my house and telling my parents. My dad wanted to throw me out!”

  “Not my problem, Virgin,” Cat said.

  “It is, though. This all started because of you. I never did anything to you, and you’ve made everyone hate me!”

  “No I didn’t. They hated you because you’re just such a fucking freak.”

  “That’s ok.” Virginia’s voice became eerily calm. I thought I could hear wind whistling in the background. “It’s not going to be anyone’s problem really soon.”

  “What?”

  “I just wanted to tell you...I wanted you to know so that you never doubted it...this is all your fault.”

  Virginia started to scream.

  It was so loud, so full of fear. It went on and on for what felt like minutes, muffled only by the sound of wind whipping wildly by. Cat fumbled to pick up her phone, desperately trying to end the call. I wanted her to so badly, but her hands were shaking and clumsy.

  The screaming ended abruptly in a heavy, wet thud.

  We stared at one another, eyes wide, speechless and pale. The phone crackled a couple of times, then went quiet.

  “Did she...?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask the full question.

  Cat gaped dumbly, her mouth opening and closing. She just kept shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Girls?” We jumped when my mom knocked on the bedroom door. “Everything ok in there?”

  Before Cat could answer, I sprung up and pulled the door open to throw myself into Mom’s arms. She pat my back comfortingly, obviously confused. When Cat didn’t answer her, she tipped my tear streaked face upwards.

  “Baby? What’s wrong?”

  “I think she killed herself!” I cried.

  “What? Who?”

  “The girl on the phone!”

  We both looked over to Cat, who had taken on a greenish tint. She ran from the bed, shoving past us on her way out to lock herself in the bathroom. We listened in stunned silence as she vomited violently.

  Cat didn’t come out for hours. She refused to speak to us through the door, so it was up to me to tell Mom what happened. She was horrified and, for a moment, I thought she’d be sick too. She collected herself quickly though, telling me to try to sleep in her bed while she took care of things. I lay awake the rest of the night, unable to get Virginia’s terrified shrieking out of my head.

  The police found Virginia’s body the next morning at the foot of the water tower. They said she used a pair of bolt cutters lying nearby to get through the chain link fence. Then she’d climbed all the way to the top.

  That’s why I heard wind when she was talking, I thought numbly as we watched the story unfold on the news. Whe was already up there.

  After it got out that her last call had been to Cat, I’d thought for sure she would be shunned for her part in the girl’s death. Cat’s friends rallied around her though, blaming Virginia for “putting Cat through such an ordeal”. They said it was so cruel for Virginia to do such a thing when Cat had only ever played harmless pranks.

  I was floored by their response, angry that they were turning Virginia into a villain, but there was nothing I could do. I’d never met the girl, hadn’t even known who she was prior to that night. She’d just been another upperclassman lost in our crowded school.

  Cat seemed to recover from it all very quickly. Her parents offered to come back early from their vacation, but she declined. She was fine—better than
fine, actually relishing in the extra attention the situation brought. I overheard her tell and retell the story multiple times, treating it like some kind of spectator sport. I was disgusted by her behavior and, after so many days, I told her so.

  “She called me. I have every right to tell my story.”

  “Your story? Her death isn’t your story! You’re such a bitch!”

  We started to argue, calling each other names and making catty remarks aimed to hurt. We were getting louder, more heated, and I was sure we were going to resort to physical fighting when her phone rang. It helped break some of the tension. I slumped back in my chair at my desk, watching her with narrowed eyes. She tossed another insult at me before answering.

  “Who is this?” she demanded.

  I watched the color drain from her face. She hung up quickly.

  “Who was it?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “N-no one. Mind your own busi—”

  The phone rang again.

  She glanced down at it, but didn’t answer. Her expression was agitated. The ringtone kept playing, an endless loop of some Lady Gaga song, long after it should have gone to voicemail. Cat threw the phone on my bed and backed away toward the door. I could see the caller ID read “Unknown”.

  “What the hell, Cat?”

  “Don’t answer it,” she said.

  But whoever was calling wasn’t going to be ignored. There were only so many times I could listen to the same few lines of a song before I snapped. She tried to stop me, but I lunged at the phone and answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Catarina?”

  That voice. I knew it instantly. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

  “Virginia?”

  “Th-this is Virginia Press, from school?”

  Cat snatched the phone away from me and hung up. She was shaking, caught somewhere between fear and fury.