The carnival of shadows

Linda has returned

The wind howled through the streets as Linda Reyes stood in front of the abandoned carnival once again. Her body was weak, her mind still clouded from the coma, but she knew what she had to do. Grins had taken everything from her—her partner, her peace, her sanity—and now it was time to end it.

The entrance gates were already open, as if the carnival itself had been waiting for her return. She hesitated, clutching the handgun she had taken from Carter's belongings. It wouldn't be enough to stop him, she knew that. But she had something Grins didn't count on—revenge.

The red lights of the carnival flickered ominously as Linda stepped through the gates. The smell of decay hit her instantly, mingling with the distant echoes of children's laughter. Every step felt heavier as she approached the funhouse, her eyes locked on the grotesque clown face that grinned down at her.

It was a face she had seen too many times in her nightmares.

Without hesitation, Linda kicked the door open and stepped inside. The walls, smeared with blood, greeted her with their twisted reflections. Grins was close. She could feel it. Every mirror reflected her image, distorted and broken, mocking her. But there was something else in the glass—movement, too quick to see clearly.

A low, guttural laugh echoed through the funhouse, bouncing off the walls. Linda's breath hitched as she gripped the gun tighter. She spun around, but the mirrors played tricks on her, disorienting her as the laughter grew louder.

"You came back, Linda," Grins's voice slithered through the air, cold and menacing. "You always were my favorite."

"Show yourself, you bastard!" Linda shouted, her voice shaking with rage.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she fired into the nearest mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces. For a brief second, she thought she saw him—Grins, towering over her, his grotesque grin wider than ever, his eyes burning with malice.

But it was gone. Just a reflection.

"You can't kill me with a gun," Grins whispered from the shadows. "I am everywhere. I am your fear."

Linda's heart pounded, her mind racing for answers. Grins was playing with her, toying with her like a predator circling its prey. She needed to find him—his real form—and end this once and for all.

She pushed deeper into the funhouse, her reflection flickering in the shattered glass. The air grew colder, and the walls seemed to close in around her. Suddenly, the laughter stopped, replaced by a deafening silence.

That's when she saw him.

Grins stood at the center of the room, his towering form even more grotesque than before. His face was stretched beyond human comprehension, his grin now splitting his face from ear to ear. Black ichor dripped from his bloodstained clown suit, and in his hands, he held a butcher's knife longer than her arm.

"You've come to die, Linda," Grins whispered, his voice now guttural, almost demonic. "Just like the others."

"No," Linda said through gritted teeth. "I've come to kill you."

Grins laughed, a sound that curdled her blood. "You can't kill fear."

He lunged at her, impossibly fast. Linda fired her gun, but the bullets seemed to pass through him like smoke. He was upon her in an instant, slashing with the knife. She barely dodged, the blade grazing her side as she stumbled back.

"I feed on your fear," Grins growled, stalking toward her. "Every bullet, every scream, every drop of blood makes me stronger!"

Linda's mind raced. She couldn't kill him with bullets—he was right about that. But there had to be something, some way to stop him. Her eyes darted to the shattered mirrors around her, fragments of broken glass reflecting not just her—but Grins as well.

Then it hit her.

The mirrors.

Grins wasn't just feeding on fear; he was using the reflections. His power was tied to them, his twisted form multiplying every time he was reflected in the glass.

"You think you're so clever," Linda muttered, a plan forming in her mind.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Linda grabbed a large shard of glass from the floor. Grins lunged again, and this time, instead of running, she held the glass up to him.

The clown froze as his image was reflected in the shard. His grin faltered for the first time.

"What are you doing?" Grins hissed, backing away, but Linda advanced on him, her reflection now splitting into dozens of shards around them.

"You think fear gives you power?" Linda said, her voice steady now. "You're just a puppet, hiding behind illusions. Without your mirrors, without the fear, you're nothing."

Grins screamed, an inhuman, bone-chilling sound, as his body began to twist and convulse. The mirrors around them cracked and shattered, the carnival itself seeming to groan in agony.

"You can't stop me!" Grins howled, his form flickering, trying to hold itself together. "I am eternal! I am—"

With a final, swift motion, Linda plunged the shard of glass into Grins's chest. His eyes widened, his grin finally disappearing as his form began to collapse in on itself. The walls of the funhouse cracked and crumbled, the twisted carnival around them dissolving into dust.

Grins let out one last, echoing scream before he disintegrated into nothing.

The carnival was gone. The laughter had stopped.

Linda stood there, breathing heavily, the shard of glass still in her hand. She looked around the empty space where the funhouse had been moments ago. It was over.

Finally, over.

---

Weeks passed, and the town slowly moved on from the mysterious deaths and disappearances surrounding the carnival. Linda had returned to work, though the nightmares still haunted her. But she knew one thing for sure: Grins was gone.

Or so she thought.

One night, as she sat in her quiet apartment, a familiar sound echoed from the shadows. A low, haunting laugh.

Her heart skipped a beat as she turned toward the mirror.

There, reflected in the glass, was a smile—a wide, blood-soaked grin.

Grins was never truly gone.