The Carneville Chronicles

The Careneville Chronicles: Chapter One

They say the Carnevil appears only to those it chooses.

Every October, as shadows deepen and mystery fills the air, the Carnevil arrives—a travelling carnival steeped in ancient British legends and enchantments. For one week, its gates open to those brave enough to enter, promising thrills for the young, nostalgia for the old, and wonder for all.

Sixteen-year-old Eleanor never expected the Carnevil to visit her quiet town. Haunted by strange dreams and symbols, she feels an irresistible pull as she steps into the carnival's haunted grounds. Inside, she encounters a world where myth and magic intertwine, with eerie attractions like the ghostly carousel, a hall of mirrors that reflects more than your face, and a ringmaster who seems to know her every thought.

With each night, Eleanor uncovers hidden secrets and legends that go beyond her wildest imagination. But as Halloween draws closer, she realises that some stories are meant to remain untold—and that the Carnevil may demand more from her than she's ready to give.

Step right up, if you dare, and let the Carnevil enchant, thrill, and haunt you.

They say the Careneville appears only to those it chooses.

It had been one of those damp October evenings that seemed to stretch the shadows and drench the town in whispers. Sixteen-year-old Eleanor walked along the quiet road leading home, her breath forming soft clouds in the chilly air. She tightened her scarf against the creeping mist that blanketed the town, clutching her books close to her chest. The street lamps flickered, casting elongated shadows that danced along the empty streets, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Eleanor felt a twinge of... anticipation. As if something waited for her just beyond the fog.

It was then that she saw it—a flash of lights through the mist, not the warm glow of street lamps, but something far stranger. The lights twinkled like fireflies, shifting in and out of view, leading down the winding path that cut through the woods. Eleanor froze, her heart hammering in her chest.

The whispers she'd heard all her life drifted back to her: They say it only appears to those it chooses. Her grandmother had spoken of it in hushed tones, her voice wavering, as though the very mention of the place brought a chill to her bones.

"When I was a little girl, Eleanor, I saw it. It only comes in October, when the nights are longest. The Careneville—a carnival of wonders and mysteries, where the shadows are just as alive as the people."

Eleanor had always dismissed it as a story meant to entertain, but the lights pulled her forward now. Without even realizing, her feet began to move.

A Gateway to Another World

As she drew closer, the fog parted, revealing a sight that stole her breath. Brightly coloured tents loomed out of the darkness, their edges fringed with golden lights that blinked lazily, as if in a trance. A grand Ferris wheel spun in ghostly silence, and the distant, eerie notes of carnival music drifted through the air. It was haunting and beautiful—a place that felt as if it had emerged from the pages of an ancient storybook.

A sign stood at the entrance, its letters swirling in elaborate, almost otherworldly script:

Welcome to Careneville. Step right up, if you dare.

Eleanor hesitated, a shiver running down her spine. Every instinct told her to turn back. But something deeper, something curious and rebellious, urged her forward.

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing, young lady."

The voice was smooth, with an edge that sent chills down her spine. She looked up to see a figure standing at the entrance, silhouetted against the mist. He wore a top hat tilted at an angle, a long coat that reached his boots, and a dark, enigmatic smile.

"I... I just wanted to look," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

The man grinned, revealing a row of unnaturally sharp teeth. "That's how it always begins. Welcome to Careneville, Eleanor." He tipped his hat, his gaze piercing through her. "We've been expecting you."

Her heart skipped. "How do you know my name?"

His smile widened. "Careneville chooses its guests very carefully. Only those it has a connection with. Now, step inside—if you dare to know what's beyond the mist."

The Carnival of Secrets

Eleanor entered, her steps tentative, the world around her transforming with every stride. The air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider, mingling with something metallic that made her stomach twist. She glanced around, her eyes wide, taking in the strange, haunting beauty of Careneville.

The attractions seemed to pulse with a life of their own. A carousel stood nearby, its horses frozen mid-gallop, their eyes gleaming as though they were watching her. The music that played was both enchanting and ominous, like a lullaby with a warning woven through its notes.

But it was the Hall of Mirrors that drew her first. The entrance was a dark archway, with the word Reflections scrawled above in curling letters. She stepped inside, her footsteps echoing softly, surrounded by mirrors that seemed to stretch into eternity.

As she walked further, her reflection began to change. First subtly—a shadow flickering at the corner of her eye, a strand of hair moving as though in a breeze. Then, as she stared, her reflection shifted entirely. She saw herself, but older, her eyes filled with a sadness she couldn't understand. Her reflection whispered, barely audible.

"Be careful. Not everything here is as it seems."

A chill wrapped around her, and she stumbled back, heart racing. Turning quickly, she exited the Hall of Mirrors, feeling the lingering weight of the message.

The Ringmaster's Warning

Outside, the Ringmaster was waiting, watching her with an amused expression.

"First time jitters, Eleanor?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement. He extended his hand, offering her a golden ticket. "One ride, free of charge. But beware, every game here has a price."

"What kind of price?" she asked, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.

He leaned in, whispering, "A story for a story, a memory for a mystery. In Careneville, we all leave a piece of ourselves behind."

Eleanor hesitated, clutching the ticket as if it were a lifeline. But curiosity clawed at her, a hunger for secrets that refused to be silenced. She pocketed the ticket, her mind racing with questions. What would it cost her? And why did she feel like she belonged here, in this strange carnival of shadows and echoes?

The Whispers of Halloween Night

Eleanor wandered further, losing herself among the twisting paths and hidden tents. She saw a Jester juggling flames that seemed to burn without heat, a Ferris wheel that spun in silence, and a tent with a sign reading, Fortunes Told—For a Price. Everywhere she looked, she caught glimpses of things that shouldn't be real—shadows with too many arms, mirrors reflecting people who weren't there, and laughter that faded as soon as she turned her head.

As she explored, Eleanor began to feel that Careneville was not just a carnival—it was a living thing, woven from the dreams, fears, and memories of everyone who had ever stepped through its gates.

And then, just as she began to wonder if she'd ever escape its spell, the Ringmaster's voice rang out from somewhere unseen:

"Enjoy your stay, Eleanor. After all, Careneville only comes to those who are chosen. And once chosen... some never leave."

To Be Continued...