Darkwood: Circus Inferno

Dead Wrong

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Onyx walked home from school, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders. The events at the circus still lingered in the back of his mind, though Greyson’s instructions to act normal echoed louder. He had done his best to push the thoughts aside and focus on the present, but now, as he neared the mortuary, his unease returned.

The sight of the two covered bodies being wheeled into the morgue hit him hard. His steps slowed, and his heart quickened. His mother, Viola, stood beside the stretchers, her face lined with exhaustion. She glanced up as she saw Onyx approaching, giving him a faint, tired smile.

“Rough day?” she asked, though the strain in her voice suggested she already knew the answer.

Onyx shrugged, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Something like that.” His eyes moved to the bodies. “Are those new?”

Viola sighed and nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. “They were found near the edge of town this morning. I was about to do the autopsy, but…” She trailed off, her weariness more apparent now. “I’m just—well, I could use some help.”

Onyx gave her a small nod. “I got it, Mom. You can take a break.”

Viola’s eyes softened, grateful for the offer. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll handle it. Go rest.”

Without further protest, Viola gave her son a tired pat on the shoulder before retreating upstairs to rest. Onyx pulled on his gloves and set to work, wheeling the bodies into the cold, sterile room where countless others had been before them. The scent of formaldehyde lingered in the air, and the soft hum of the overhead lights provided a thin layer of comfort in the silence.

He worked with the precision his mother had taught him, carefully uncovering the bodies and preparing them for examination. The first body, a man in his mid-thirties, had severe lacerations across his chest and arms, the cuts precise yet brutal. The second was a woman, her face frozen in a look of pure terror. Onyx felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at her, though he quickly pushed it aside.

He grabbed the scalpel and began the first incision when, suddenly, the lights flickered. Onyx paused, the blade hovering above the skin, his eyes narrowing.

The lights flickered again.

A sinking feeling grew in his gut, but he forced himself to continue. It wasn’t unusual for the mortuary to have power issues—it was an old building, after all. But something felt different this time. A few moments later, the lights went out entirely, plunging the room into darkness.

Onyx stood still, his hand still gripping the scalpel, as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden blackness. His breath felt louder in the silence.

Then, from the far corner of the room, a faint yellow glow began to emerge.

Onyx’s heart pounded as he looked toward the source of the light. It was subtle at first, almost like the glow of a distant candle, but it grew stronger with each passing second, filling the room with an eerie, sickly yellow hue. The glow reflected off the cold, metallic surfaces of the equipment and cast long, distorted shadows across the bodies.

He took a cautious step forward, his eyes locked on the glowing corner. His instincts screamed at him to run, to leave the room immediately, but something held him in place—an invisible force that made his feet feel as if they were rooted to the floor.