The carnival of shadows

The Carnival of Shadows

It was an abandoned carnival on the outskirts of town, a decaying monument to childhood joy turned to ruin. No one dared enter its rusted gates anymore. Legends spoke of a killer clown, Grins, who stalked its grounds, waiting for anyone foolish enough to wander in.

One stormy night, a group of teenagers—Jason, Marie, and Kyle—decided to test the legend. Armed with flashlights and laughter, they pushed open the gate, its metallic screech cutting through the heavy air. The carnival lay still, its attractions barely visible in the moonlight. They passed by rotting roller coasters, collapsing tents, and shattered mirrors, their footsteps echoing ominously.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Marie whispered, her voice trembling.

Jason laughed. "It's just a stupid legend. There's no such thing as killer clowns."

But as they moved deeper into the carnival, they noticed the oppressive silence. No crickets, no wind—just silence, like the world itself was holding its breath. They came to the funhouse, its garish colors faded and peeling. A creepy, oversized clown face loomed over the entrance, its smile cracked and twisted.

Suddenly, a wet splat echoed behind them. They turned to see Kyle staring at the ground in horror. Something warm dripped onto his shoes. He touched his face and felt blood. A piece of rotting flesh landed at his feet, as if thrown from above. Looking up, the three saw a figure perched atop the funhouse roof—a grotesque clown in a tattered costume. His face was smeared with dried blood, and his eyes gleamed with madness. Grins.

Before anyone could react, the clown jumped down, landing silently. In one swift motion, he lunged at Kyle, yanking him backward by his hair. Kyle screamed, but it was drowned out by the sickening crunch as the clown's oversized hands twisted his head to an unnatural angle. A geyser of blood sprayed from his neck, staining the dirt red as his body crumpled to the ground, twitching.

Marie and Jason ran, heartbeats pounding in their ears, but the funhouse was a maze of dark corridors and distorted mirrors. The walls seemed to close in, their own reflections taunting them. Behind them, Grins's raspy breath echoed, followed by the wet slap of his oversized shoes on the sticky ground.

Jason grabbed Marie's hand and pulled her into a side room, hoping to hide. They pressed themselves against the wall, trying to stifle their panicked breathing. But then they heard it—the scraping of metal on metal. Marie looked down and stifled a scream. A rusty butcher's knife was slowly carving its way under the door.

The door burst open, and there stood Grins, his grin impossibly wide. Blood dripped from his cracked lips, and in his hand, the knife gleamed with cruel intent. Jason lunged at him, but Grins moved faster than any human should. With a single slash, he opened Jason's chest, ribs splintering as organs spilled onto the floor in a steaming heap. Jason gurgled, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing in a pool of his own entrails.

Marie, frozen in terror, watched as Grins knelt beside Jason's body. He dipped his fingers into the still-warm blood and smeared it across his face, laughing in a high-pitched, deranged cackle. His laugh echoed in the confined space, drowning out her screams.

Grins turned to her, his blood-slicked fingers reaching out. Before she could run, his hand wrapped around her neck, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. She clawed at his hands, gasping for air as her vision blurred. The last thing she saw before everything went black was his grin, wide and bloody.

When the sun rose the next day, the carnival stood silent once more. No one would find the bodies, at least not whole. Grins had a new coat of red paint on his costume, and the funhouse now had fresh decorations—entrails draped like streamers, bones arranged in grotesque sculptures, and faces stretched over mannequins in a mockery of life.

The legend of Grins the killer clown lived on, waiting for the next foolish souls to stumble into his carnival of horrors.