The carnival of shadows

Linda

The carnival stood silent under a blood-red sunset. The wind whistled through the twisted rides, carrying with it the faint, lingering scent of decay. For months, no one dared enter the cursed place after rumors of the missing teens spread. But tonight, the carnival would welcome another visitor—Detective Linda Reyes.

A no-nonsense detective with a history of solving cold cases, Linda had spent weeks investigating the disappearances tied to the abandoned carnival. She wasn't superstitious, but too many clues led her back to this place. She knew something was wrong here, even if it wasn't a killer clown.

Linda crossed the threshold of the carnival's rusted gates, gripping her flashlight in one hand and her gun in the other. The moment she stepped inside, an icy chill crawled up her spine. She ignored it, moving forward with a steely determination.

As she passed the Ferris wheel, she noticed something strange. Dried blood splattered across the metal frames, not entirely old. Her pulse quickened, but she pressed on, her flashlight slicing through the thickening darkness.

The funhouse loomed ahead.

"This is where they disappeared," she muttered, feeling her heart hammer against her ribcage.

She pushed the door open, its hinges groaning in protest, and stepped into the dimly lit corridors. Her own reflection mocked her from the warped mirrors. She heard faint whispers, like children laughing, carried on the breeze.

Suddenly, a door slammed shut behind her. She spun around, gun drawn, but saw only her distorted reflection staring back.

"Who's there?" she barked, her voice echoing unnervingly in the narrow corridor.

Then, something moved in the reflection. It wasn't her. Behind her, a shadow loomed, unnaturally tall and hunched. She whipped around just in time to see Grins, his face painted with fresh streaks of blood, a grin wider than before. His eyes were black, soulless pits, fixed on her with murderous intent.

Without hesitation, Linda fired a shot, the gun's blast echoing through the funhouse. The bullet slammed into his chest, but Grins didn't even flinch. Instead, he laughed—a high-pitched, spine-chilling cackle that made her blood run cold. He staggered forward, reaching for her with his massive, bloodstained hands.

Linda backed away, trying to steady her breath. She fired again, this time aiming for his head. The bullet connected, and for a moment, Grins stumbled, a thick spray of black blood erupting from the wound. But then his head jerked back up, the grin never faltering, the hole in his skull slowly sealing itself.

"What the hell are you?" Linda whispered, her grip tightening on her gun.

Grins tilted his head, the butcher's knife in his hand catching the dim light. He lunged forward with inhuman speed, slashing at her. Linda barely dodged the blow, feeling the blade graze her arm. Blood spilled from the wound, but she kept moving, trying to put distance between her and the monstrosity.

She turned a corner, running through the maze of mirrors, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But Grins was relentless, his laughter following her like a nightmare she couldn't wake from. Every time she thought she'd lost him, he would appear again, stepping out of a reflection, or slamming his butcher's knife into a wall mere inches from her.

Desperation fueled her as she sprinted into a larger room, her flashlight beam catching something hanging from the ceiling. She froze in horror. Human remains, strung up like grotesque marionettes, their faces stretched in eternal screams. Among them, she recognized the lifeless, blood-drained face of Kyle, the missing teen. His hollow eyes seemed to follow her.

Behind her, Grins's laughter grew louder, echoing in her mind, driving her to the edge of sanity.

Suddenly, the lights in the funhouse flickered and went out. Linda was plunged into total darkness. She could hear Grins, his labored, wheezing breath just behind her, but she couldn't see him. Panic rose in her throat like bile.

She knew she had only one shot left.

Relying on instinct, Linda swung around and fired into the darkness. The bullet found its mark. There was a horrible screech, followed by a heavy thud. The laughter stopped.

Silence.

For a moment, Linda stood there, her heart pounding, wondering if she had finally killed him. She clicked on her flashlight and pointed it at the ground. There, lying in a pool of black blood, was Grins. His body was motionless, his grotesque grin finally gone.

Linda exhaled, relief washing over her. She knelt down to check for any signs of life, her flashlight still trained on the clown's corpse. As she reached out, something caught her eye. Grins's hand twitched.

Before she could react, his eyes snapped open, and with one swift motion, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her down into the blood-soaked floor.

His voice, distorted and otherworldly, whispered in her ear, "You can't kill what's already dead."

With a monstrous force, Grins pulled her closer, his mouth opening wider, revealing rows of jagged teeth. Linda screamed, but it was cut short as her vision went dark, and the funhouse filled once again with the sound of Grins's laughter.

Days later, the carnival remained silent. No one knew what happened to Detective Linda Reyes. Her car was found outside the gates, but inside, only the echoes of the wind and the smell of death remained.

Grins was waiting for his next victim, his carnival of horrors open to any who dared to enter.