Page 1 of Carnival Nightmare

1

CADE

We roll into the small town of Willow Creek as the sun rises. I lean against the rickety old carnival bus window, watching the sleepy buildings pass. This place is like a ghost town—perfect pickings for suckers willing to part with their cash at our carnival.

The bus screeches to a halt on the edge of town. “Alright, boys, time to transform this dump into a palace of illusions!” Tyson, the ringmaster, bellows as he steps off the bus. The rest of us grumble and groan, tired from the long overnight journey. But work has to be done if we want to eat.

Nobody here knows who I am, what I am. They don’t see the darkness behind my friendly façade, the cold calculations clicking away in my brain.

I hop out and unhitch the trailers carrying the rides I’m in charge of; the tilt-a-whirl, scrambler, and gravitron. Lars, Duke, and I start unpacking and assembling the hulking hunks of metal that will soon swirl people around until they puke. I pull out a wrench and begin to work, imagining the gears turning, the screams echoing in perfect harmony. This is my canvas; tonight, I’ll paint it with shades of fear and delight.

“Hey, Cade, toss me that wrench!” calls Duke, the veteran ride operator. I fling the tool in his direction without looking up. Duke is always yapping about his glory days with the carnival, back before it turned into this rinky-dink operation just scraping by.

“Place was packed every night back then,” he drones on. “Three rings full of death-defying acts that’d make your eyes pop out of your skull. And the women, let me tell you...”

I tune out the old man’s ramblings while focusing on getting the rides prepped. After years on the job, this work is second nature to me. I could dismantle and reassemble these things with my eyes closed.

It will be another long day slaving away in the sun, covered in grease and motor oil. But it beats the alternative—returning to my meaningless existence before joining the carnival. I feel alive, always on the move, andnever tied down. A modern cowboy taming wild mechanical beasts every night.

This is the life I’m meant for. No rules, no restrictions. Just pure adrenaline and pushing metal to its limits. These rides are my art, my creations.

I finish calibrating the last ride and glance around, the work zone buzzing with activity. Soon enough, the suckers will start rolling in, hungry for escape. This town looked desperate for excitement. Easy pickings.

Tonight, we’ll give them a show they’ll never forget.

“Hey, Duke, I’m gonna take a walk around town,” I call out. “Make sure the rest of these knuckleheads finish setting things up.”

Duke scowls, his bushy grey mustache twitching. “You can’t take off, we got lots more to do before showtime.”

I wave him off. “I finished my rides. That’s my job. You wanna check my work, be my guest.”

Ignoring his grumbled protests, I stroll away, lighting up a cigarette. Duke barks orders, thinking he’s in charge around here even though Tyson is the ringmaster. But I don’t take crap from anyone. Never have.Duke’s got a chip on his shoulder since Lenny, the old ringmaster, passed him over and handed the reins to Ty.

I wander down the main street and take in the quaint storefronts and houses. This really is a small town, but it’ll do for now. Another stop on the endless trek in search of suckers and their cash.

Most places we pass through all blur together after a while. Clusters of nameless, faceless people I’ll never see again. But sometimes, fate has other plans.

Reaching the end of the main street, movement in a diner window catches my eye. Standing behind the counter in a snug blue waitress uniform is the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen. Smooth, creamy skin, legs for days, big doll eyes framed by golden blonde waves. A vision.

I flatten myself against the brick wall opposite and watch through the window, unable to look away. The girl is chatting with customers, flashing adorable little smiles that make my chest ache. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s like I’m under a spell.

From my hidden vantage point, I study her every movement and expression. She tilts her head when listening and absentmindedlytwirls a strand of hair around her fingerwhile taking an order.

Who is this angel?

I have to know more about her. What’s her name? How old is she? Does she have a boyfriend? The thought of anyone else touching her makes my blood boil. If she does, I’ll fucking murder him.

Stay cool, I tell myself. Can’t lose control. Not yet. This enchanting girl will be my little secret.

I snap out of my daze when she disappears into the kitchen. My mind races with possibilities.

Finishing my cigarette in a few quick drags, I flick it onto the sidewalk and stomp it out under my boot.

And then I push off the brick wall, striding toward the diner entrance, heart pounding against my ribs. The bell over the door jingles when I enter the quaint little diner. Only a few customers are seated, leaving plenty of choice spots to observe my target.

I slide into a booth by the window with a clear kitchen view. Now, the waiting game begins. I drum my fingers on the table, anticipation building. Come on, angel, get back out here.

After a few agonizing minutes, she emerges from the kitchen, perky tits bouncing in her tight blue shirt. My pulse quickens at the sight. Her smile lights up the room as she glides between tables, topping off coffees and taking orders. What I wouldn’t give to see that radiant smile flashed my way.

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