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The Midway
Our "Halloween Contest" Winner
by
JG Faherty
The Proprietor opened his eyes. His world had been nothing but darkness and hunger for too long. His body craved sustenance: blood, mayhem, the corruption of innocent souls.
He smiled, exposing long, jagged fangs that jutted from black gums like stalagmites and stalactites.
The time of the awakening had arrived.
He extended a dagger-like talon through the gossamer space-time fabric separating the two dimensions, opening the smallest of holes.
The life force of negative energy coursing through his body surged faster. His lips, two gray worms outlining a cavernous mouth, spread wide. A long, winding tongue, black as death and forked at the end, snaked out and poked at the inter-dimensional hole.
“Aaaah!” he sighed, expelling fetid breath. A few molecules passed through the hole.
On the other side, a nursery of new-born infants stiffened and turned blue as their lungs stopped working.
The Proprietor turned and strode across the cavern. Mold and fungus covered the stone walls, their bilious green glow providing the only light.
A tall, figure with five bulbous eyes dragged itself towards him. Pieces of decaying flesh fell off it and slithered away, leaving trails of slime.
It emitted a series of barking, growling gurgles.
The Proprietor nodded. “Yesss, Molach. Send them through.”
His lieutenant bowed once and moved off. The Proprietor stood by the cavern’s entrance and watched as the myriad inhabitants approached the mystical exit.
Amorphous, tentacled creatures lurched past. Gigantic demons marched by, carrying cages containing hideously deformed prisoners who screamed for mercy. They had all been human once, before the Proprietor had transformed them into sideshow freaks.
A line of slave-workers, all identical in appearance, scrambled along the stone floor, their chitinous bodies reflecting the moldy phosphorescence as their ten legs carried them forward.
The barrier, once a solid, impenetrable energy force, now hung in tatters.
The Proprietor grinned, his foul tongue flicking out. “Ahh, Molach. Can you taste it? The first delivery of corruption unto a fresh, innocent place. It is almost better than the final feast. Come, let us begin.”
He stepped forward, his stick-like, insectoid form passing into the next dimension.
On the other side, his workers, all in semi-human form, bustled around, adjusting tent ropes, testing rides, and turning on lights and music. Neon signs advertised the Midway, the Freak Show, the Castle of Horrors, and the Funhouse. Booths stood open and ready for business: the Fortune Teller, darts, basketball, ring toss, Dunk-A-Frog, and the Wheel of Destiny.
The Proprietor looked back as Molach appeared from the center of a wide, black circle. The creature’s body morphed as it passed through, legs and arms lengthening and gaining muscle. As always, Molach had taken on the countenance of a scarred man, his face twisted and pulled by an ancient wound that descended from the left temple, down the cheek, and across the lips. He stopped and waited for instructions.
“Take four workers and head into town. Post the flyers. When the humans wake tomorrow, I want every one of them to know of our arrival.”
Molach nodded and walked off. The Proprietor straightened his seven-foot body, fixed his bright-red jacket, brushed some dirt from the matching pants. This year he’d chosen a yellow shirt, orange tie, and black shoes to complete his look.
He flicked one wrist and a tall, black stovepipe hat appeared, a large sunflower sticking up from the band. Fully attired, he strode towards the Midway on long, thin legs.He had big plans for that attraction this time around.
Very big plans.
*
“I hate to admit it, but I’m actually having a good time,” Dan Marsh said to his wife.
“I knew you would.” Felicity tossed the remains of her candied apple into a trash bin.
“Who’d have thought a carnival in October could be so much fun?”
For once I’m not lying, either, he added to himself, as he took her hand. The kids are behaving, it’s not too cold, and the chili dogs and fries almost make you believe it’s still summer.
A clown on a unicycle wobbled past, juggling glow-in-the-dark bowling pins. Instead of the usual red nose and happy smile, the carny had hidden himself behind a grotesque mask of festering boils. A snaggle-toothed leer took up most of the face, and horns protruded from the scaly forehead.
No one paid any attention to it.
At first, the inhuman faces of the carnival workers had thrown Dan for a loop. But after a few minutes, the carnies’ masks and makeup had blended into the background, and actually added to the festive atmosphere.
After all, what was Halloween without demons and monsters?
“Ooh, smell that cotton candy,” Felicity sighed as they passed a booth where a green, leprous creature hawked the sweet confection.
Dan took an appreciative breath. The air was alive with a fantastic mélange of odors. Hot dogs, sausages, and French fries fought for olfactory dominance against nachos, funnel cakes, and popcorn.
As the sun settled into its nest and the sky went from purple to black, the carnival’s lights burst into life. Strobing, flashing, blinking neon in all shapes and sizes created a pattern at once timeless and new. As if one assault on the senses wasn’t enough, bells clamored for attention at one booth after another. Calliope music swelled and faded as the Merry-go-round sent children in fantastic circles. The speakers surrounding the Bobsled ride battered eardrums with Bon Jovi, Ozzy, and Led Zeppelin. In Tiny Town, tinkling nursery rhymes played over and over, to the children’s delight and their parents’ agony.
Above it all, the voices of a hundred carnies fought to be heard. “Everyone’s a winner at Dunk-A-Frog!” “Try your luck at the ring toss!” “Three balloons wins your choice of prizes!”
At exactly ten o’clock, a new voice overpowered all other sounds. “May I have your attention, please! Tonight the Carnival of Fear has a special show. At exactly midnight, the main event, the piece de resistance, will begin in our Midway. Come and see animals from other worlds, the people time forgot, and mythical creatures from childhood fairy tales. All for the amazing price of...”
Dan found himself leaning forward as the unknown announcer let the pause grow. For the briefest moment, total silence ruled the carnival grounds.
“...One penny! That’s right, one single copper cent. Get your seats early. A show like this only comes once in a lifetime.”
As if the click of the loudspeaker turning off was a switch connected to everyone in the carnival, voices and music swelled again, if possible even louder than before.“Dad! Dad! Can we stay for the show? Please?” DJ tugged at Dan’s jacket sleeve with sticky, sugar-coated fingers.
Dan glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, kiddo.”
“Aw, c’mon. Please?”
Felicity cleared her throat. “Maybe this one time?” She smiled and raised an eyebrow.
Dan started to object, and then realized her hidden meaning. It hadn’t been lost on her how good a time the family had been having.
“All right, we’ll stay. But,” he held up a finger as DJ began to thank him, “If you and your sister get into any arguments it’s right home to bed.”
“You’re the best, Dad.”
“Riiight. Now go get your sister before she wastes all our money on games.”
“Thanks,” Felicity said.
He gave her a smile. “No problem, hon. But when they’re cranky and overtired tomorrow, it’s your fault.”
By eleven-thirty, the crowd outside the giant Midway tent had started to grow. Dan hustled his family into the line. Not that they needed any encouragement. Even Melanie’s normally aloof attitude had given way to something approaching excitement.
Inside, long bleachers occupied all four sides of the wide space, leaving a large, rectangular area open in the middle. Dan ushered them to an empty row halfway up, high enough to see everything but not so high as to miss any details.
“What kind of show do you think it’ll be?” DJ munched on popcorn as he spoke.
“It’s probably just a glorified-”
Before Dan could finish, the lights went out, leaving the crowd in complete darkness. Suddenly, a single spotlight came on in the center of the performance area.
A tall, scarecrow-thin figure strode out of the darkness, his crimson jacket and pants, yellow shirt, and orange tie as bright as the neon outside. They should have looked clownish, but they seemed somehow appropriate on his stick-figure body.
The man bowed, tipping his black stovepipe hat just long enough to reveal a hairless, albino-white head.
“Greetings and salutations. I am the Proprietor of the Carnival of Fear. I hope your night has been filled with laughter, and perhaps just a little terror. For after all, what is Halloween without some frightening monsters?”
For one brief moment a dozen other spotlights came on, illuminating figures scattered through the empty space.
Fleeting glimpses of two-headed creatures, something that looked like a dragon, and a giant with a heavy wooden club registered in Dan’s head, but then all was darkness again before he could be sure of what he’d seen.
“Oh, snap!” DJ shouted. “Did you see that?”
His cries were echoed by children and adults all through the tent.
“Yesss,” the Proprietor boomed, his dark, rich tones demanding the crowd’s attention. “Halloween is the night when the barriers between Earth and the netherworlds break down, and the things under your bed come alive.”
He spread his long, bony arms wide. The spotlight holding him in place began to dim. The room grew darker and darker, until Dan could barely see his own hands.
“Dan, I don’t like this. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring the children here.”
He found his wife’s hand and patted it. “Relax. It’s all just a show. As soon as...”
DJ pointed, his eyes wide. “Look!”
Dozens of pairs of glowing red circles had appeared down below. Some were barely visible, while others were as large as basketballs.
Dan realized what they were just as someone said it out loud.
“Eyes!”
The word passed quickly through the crowd as more circles appeared in the center area. Dan tried to count the pairs, but gave up when the circles began blinking and moving back and forth.
From somewhere in the ink-black darkness, the deep baritone voice spoke once more.
“Ladies and gentleman, it is midnight. So without further ado, I welcome you to...Hell!”
The houselights came up halfway.
The crowd gasped as one.
Creatures large and small stood or sat around the man in the stovepipe hat, fiery eyes staring up at the crowd.
Interspersed among the horrific things were individuals who seemed almost human. Dan recognized some of them as carnies he’d seen earlier in the night.
Just as he recognized at some instinctive level that the monsters below them were real.
“Wicked!” DJ shouted.
Goosebumps blossomed on Dan’s skin.
Around them, children, and even some adults, cheered and clapped.
They all think this is just a show.
“C’mon, we have to leave. Now!” He grabbed DJ with one hand and Felicity with the other. “Melanie, let’s go.”
“Lemme go, Dad. I wanna stay.” DJ tried to pull his hand free.
“Honey, what’s the matter?”
“Dad, like what gives?”
“Shut up, everyone.” Dan started pushing past the other patrons, many of whom had stood for a better view.
“Behold my menagerie.” The gaunt ringmaster’s voice rang out over the rising cries of the crowd.
Dan paused, his eyes drawn to the scene below.
“Cerberus, the three-headed dog of the underworld. Grendel, the giant ogre of European myths. Ammut, the Egyptian deity with a lion’s body and a crocodile’s head. And from ancient Greece, the Chimera.”
Colored spotlights highlighted each beast as the Proprietor introduced them. Scales, claws, and over-sized fangs reflected glittering rainbows.
The house lights rose to full strength, turning the midway as bright as noon. As if that were a signal, the demonic creatures charged into the stands, tearing their way through the crowd.
Against a background of terrified cries and screams of pain, Dan elbowed his way through the masses of people reacting to the carnage below. Reaching the wooden stairs, he hugged the wall, dragging his children with him, constantly checking to make sure Felicity was right behind them.
“Hold hands and head for the exit!” he shouted over his shoulder, as more and more people surged onto the steps.
His feet touched straw and dirt and he turned to the left, angling for the entrance, only to find the tent flaps closed. People pulled and tugged at the green canvas, but it wouldn’t budge.
“We’re trapped!” A single person shouted the words, but they were picked up and passed back through the mass of bodies, growing louder and louder as more people added their voices.
Adults and children turned away from the exit and pushed in the opposite direction. People fell and were trampled, their agonized calls for help ignored by the panicked horde.
“This way,” Dan motioned his family away from the stampede. “Under the bleachers.”
Keeping his head low, he guided them into the shadowy area beneath the structure. A few other people had the same idea, but for the most part they had space to breathe and move freely.
Thundering footsteps pounded overhead as people continued to flee the stands. Occasionally a leg or arm would slip between the seats as someone fell. More than one such fall was accompanied by the splintering-wood sound of breaking bones.
“Is everyone all right?” Dan checked each member of the family. In the dim light, their wide eyes were ghostly orbs.
“What the hell are those things?” Felicity asked.
“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around to find out. Stay close to the back wall. We’ll keep circling under the bleachers until we find an exit we can use.”
“Can’t we stay here?” DJ clutched at his hand. “I don’t want the monsters to get me.”
“They won’t, son.” He pulled DJ into a tight hug. “That’s because we’re not gonna be anywhere near them.”
He stood up. “Everyone ready?” Frightened faces nodded back at him. “Okay, let’s go.”
They moved along the canvas wall, which had somehow become as hard and solid as steel. When they reached the end of the first section, Dan held up his hand.
There was a four-foot wide open space before the next set of seats.
“Hold it. Let me make sure it’s safe.”
He leaned forward, exposing as little of his face as he could.
Something slammed into the metal bars next to his head and he stumbled backwards with a gasp.
He found himself staring at a child’s arm. Blood dripped from the ragged, raw end where it had been torn away at the shoulder. A broken piece of gore-covered bone stuck out from the red flesh.
The hand still clutched a multi-colored lollipop.
“Oh, god.” Felicity turned away, hands over her mouth.
Dan grabbed her arm. “C’mon. We have to keep moving.”
She gave him an angry glare but nodded.
“Kids, hold hands. When I say go, run as fast as you can.”
“Dad-”
“No questions. Ready? Go.” He pushed them forward. Melanie went first, dragging DJ along with her.
Dan held his breath as the children crossed the open space. Please god, let them be safe.
When they reached the other side, Melanie stopped and faced them, her normally pale skin even whiter. “Hurry!”
Dan hadn’t waited for his daughter’s desperate shout. Grabbing his wife’s hand, he sprinted forward.
He was halfway across and already convinced they were safe when something hit him from the side and knocked him into the unyielding canvas wall.
For a moment all he could see were flashing lights against a dark background. Dim sounds reached him, screams and something like a lion’s roar. Hands gripped his clothing.
“What...?” He barely heard himself over the tumultuous din around him. Two blurry figures, DJ and Melanie, were tugging at his arm.
Felicity was...
No longer next to him.
“Felicity!” He grabbed the bleachers and pulled himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he clutched at a metal support until it passed.
When his vision cleared, he found himself looking at the creature that had killed his wife.
There was no mistaking she was dead. One of her legs lay on the dirty, matted straw in a pool of blood. The rest of her body was clutched in the giant hands of an eight-foot tall beast with a heavy brow and flat, simian nose. Coarse fur covered the rest of its enormous, barrel-shaped body and massive limbs.
Oversized jaws bit down, sharp teeth tearing flesh and muscle from Felicity’s neck. Her orange-red hair, a gift from a distant Irish ancestor that she’d passed on to DJ and Melanie, hid her face, but Dan imagined he could see her accusing expression.
You let this happen. You didn’t save me.
“Dad, come on!”
More tugging. He yanked his arm away. The goddamn thing was eating her, for Chrissake. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Dad, don’t leave us.”
DJ’s voice. Dan Junior. It had been Felicity’s choice to name him that, saying Dan’s name should carry on. She’d chosen Melanie after her own mother.
He looked back at his children, their children, waving desperately for him to return to them, to save them. The horrible crunching of teeth on bone seemed to drown out all other sounds, but he could see the children’s mouths moving.
Calling for him.
He had no choice. He knew what she’d want him to do. For her, the children always came first.
Forgive me, my love.
He ducked under the bleachers and urged the kids forward, away from their mother’s grisly remains.
By now the seats were mostly empty, and as they ran he caught glimpses of the unspeakable atrocities being carried out by the carnival’s denizens.
A three-headed dog, easily five feet high at the shoulder, held a mangled body in each of its snarling muzzles.
Something that looked like a snake, but with the head and torso of a cruelly-beautiful woman, hung by its tail from a tent pole, snapping at screaming customers with its enormous fangs.
A two-headed giant, towering over everything else, smashed people to the ground with the wooden clubs it held in each hand.
DJ tripped and fell, and Dan grabbed him by the arm, pulling him up and holding on to him as they ran. Just before they reached end of the bleachers, he pulled the children to a halt.
“Wait.”
Had it been an illusion, maybe a drop of sweat dripping in his eye, or had the canvas moved?
There!
Just the briefest of billows, as if from a puff of wind.
“DJ, gimme your pocket knife.”
It had been a Christmas present, and he knew his son never went anywhere without it.
Dan flicked the blade out. It wasn’t much, barely longer than his pinky and hardly sharper than a nail file, but he jabbed it into the canvas and was rewarded with the sound of tearing fabric. He brought his arm down with as much strength as he could muster, slicing a three-foot line down the heavy, green material.
I saved them, Felicity. Just like you wanted me to.
“Quick. Outside.” He pushed them through, first DJ and then
Melanie. As soon as she was out, he followed them into the cold night air.
And found them surrounded by misshapen, mutant carnies.
“Well done, Mister Marsh.” The tall, gangly thing that called itself the Proprietor clapped its long, freakish hands together. "You and your family, or what’s left of it, are the first to find one of my concealed exits.”
“Please, can’t you just let us go?” Dan knelt on the ground, holding his sobbing children to his chest.
The Proprietor shook his head, his black lips stretching into a death grin that caused Dan’s bladder to release.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. Not after you’ve shown so much ingenuity and courage. Yours is the kind of spirit I need.”
“Need?”
“Yes. For my exhibits. I can see it now: The Amazing Lizard Man and the Half Boy, Half Girl. You’ll be with us for all eternity.”
Dan’s mouth opened but no words came out.
The Proprietor clapped his hands again. “Molach. Prepare them. We only have a few more hours before our time is done on this plane.”
He strode away, the tails of his neon-red jacket flapping behind him.
A tall, muscular man with a jagged scar and glowing red eyes stepped forward, a wicked smile on his ravaged face and a long knife in one hand.
Melanie cried out as two of the deformed carnies pulled her and DJ from his grasp.
“No!” He reached out but malformed hands grabbed him, held him back.
Dan closed his eyes and covered his ears as the knife began its descent, but it did no good.
The screaming never ended.
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© Faherty, 2006
JG Faherty began writing fiction five years ago. Fahrty's work has appeared in several magazines, ezines, and anthologies, including Wicked Karnival, Wee Small Hours, www.latelateshow.net, and Animal Magnetism (a benefit anthology for Katrina victims). The short story ‘Rough Justice’ will be in the CWW Raw Meat anthology due out this fall, and ‘Bones’ has been accepted for an upcoming edition of Cemetery Dance.