OCTOBER FRIGHTS BLOG HOP, DAY 1

 

 

 

 

So, this year I’m part of a group of writers participating in the October Frights Blog Hop, a series of blogs with a focus on Halloween and all things scary. There are 17 of us doing this (list below) and it’s being coordinated by A.F. Stewart (http://afstewartblog.blogspot.com, where you can find all the links to all the blogs!). 

 

 

The blog hop runs from Oct. 10 through Oct. 15, and there’s also a book giveaway that runs through the 31^st, where you can get your dead little hands on all sorts of spooky goodness (https://tinyurl.com/StoryOriginGiveaways).

I’ll be posting something every day, and so will a lot of the other writers, so be sure to check out all the pages each day for graveloads of entertainment.

Today, I’m kicking things off with a piece of flash fiction, The Carnival, which is based on characters from my novel Carnival of Fear. I hope it gets you in the Halloween mood! 

THE CARNIVAL

By JG Faherty

Bells, calliope music, children laughing; the air vibrates with sound. Bright lights flash fantastic displays in the night. Tantalizing odors fight for attention: cotton candy, popcorn, funnel cakes, and more.

Children hurry parents from booth to booth, ride to ride. Teenagers try to beat the carnies at their own games, wasting hard-earned dollars on darts, basketballs, and Ring Toss.

Amidst the chaos, Yeardley Kent spots the man he’s been searching for. The skeletal figure’s outfit stands out like a red, yellow, and orange neon sign. A sunflower juts from the band of his black stovepipe hat, just like the last time. Against the backdrop of the dark night, his skin seems formed from moonlight and ectoplasm.

Taking a deep breath, Yeardley approaches his quarry. The man Yeardley knows only as the Proprietor turns and speaks just as Yeardley draws close.

“Good evening, Mr. Kent. Welcome back to the Carnival of Fear. How may I be of service?”

Yeardley’s heart jumps at the deep, resonant voice. The Proprietor’s space-black eyes narrow. Pale lips, two early-morning worms joined at the ends, curl up in a ghastly imitation of a friendly smile.

Yeardley draws his gun. “You killed my wife and children and left me to die. Now it’s your turn, demon.”

The Proprietor glances at the weapon, his face emotionless. “Very well. Shall we adjourn somewhere more private, or do you intend to shoot me right here?” He gestures at the passing crowd.

“Behind the tent, then. But don’t try anything. I’ve got nothing to lose by shooting you in public.”

The Proprietor nods and walks around to the back of the brightly colored canvas building. “Now then. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I saw what happened the last time. Those things of yours, those freaks, killed everyone.”

“Except you.”

“I spent two months in the hospital. God saved me for a reason.”

Yeardley raises the gun and points it at the Proprietor’s chest, taking satisfaction in how steady his hand stays. “The evil ends tonight.” Without hesitating, he pulls the trigger three times, the shots lost in the din of music, games, and laughter.

Nothing happens.

The Proprietor adjusts the lapels of his orange jacket. “Come now, Mr. Kent. Did you think it would be that easy?”

He strides forward, his wide grin expanding further and further until it encompasses his entire face. The impossibly huge mouth opens, exposing rows of jagged fangs that glitter like shards of broken glass in the moonlight.

Yeardley drops the gun and screams as the gaping maw descends over him and the world goes black.

Spotlights pierce the darkness, their dazzling beams illuminating strange figures.

“No... God help me, not again!”

An ogre steps into the light, holding the heads of Yeardley’s wife and children. A winged lizard, scales shimmering in a scintillating rainbow of color, flexes immense talons and takes flight.

A three-headed dog, well over six feet high at the shoulder, leap forward with a roar.

Yeardley closes his eyes as claws and teeth tear into his flesh. Through the pain and his own cries, he hears the voice of the Proprietor inside his head.

“Enjoy the show, Mr. Kent.”