The Carnival of the Damned From the darkness comes a sound, a pipe organ playing or merry go round. A sound both fantastic, foreboding as well, no one can resist its siren-like spell. Wailing like spectres, but singing like gold, a melody new but unnaturally old. Beckoning to all the children nearbye, who have no way of knowing they are destined to die. For their small simple minds are hooked on the bait, The gold-plated evil that seals their dark fate. The unnamable truth cloaked by cheerful facade, a symbol of friendship, a token unflawed. The carnival owner greets with a smile, a shake of the hand and a line to beguile. For you do not need money to pay the dark toll, The ticket of entrance, is your precious soul. No one is ever aware of his goals, This master of chaos, this drinker of souls. In league with the elder, darkness supreme, he feeds it the innocence to continue his dream. When he was young his family was killed, his mind filled with anger, his heart became chilled. He took his own life with the rage left inside, hanging himself from a tent, bright and wide. The elder felt pity, but had no remorse, to bind this new soul to his eternal force. He offered the boy a chance at revenge, the power to slaughter, to darkly avenge. With great satisfaction, the boy killed the prey, the spraying of crimson had marked that dark day. He shoved them the lion's caged den, the boy stood back waiting for the fun to begin. The four hapless victims were chewed into mesh, the lion's huge maw snapped through tendon and flesh. Under the influence of power and rage, His great satisfaction had set the damned stage. Spreading his suffering for hundreds of years, an object of terror, a symbol of fears. This beautiful carnival conceals a dark cast, of demons and spectres from the world's ancient past. Bathed in the bloodshed, knee deep in the gore, they hide in the shadows, waiting for more. In this dark carnival dreams can come true, after a task that the wisher must do. Although they are granted their greatest desire, their souls are consumed by the elder's dark ire. Their souls are consumed, but their bodies live on to continue the work as the carnival's spawn. Or used as livestock for the owner's foul thirst, toasting their deaths at the dinner accursed. Jesters and clowns are mixed in with the crowd, wearing their clothing incredibly loud. Bright fluffy hair, humor filled eyes and long slender fangs to cut short death cries. The freaks in the cages, once human as well, now grotesque mockeries as if straight from hell. The pipe-organ player, unseen by the eye, a fiend made of shadow, incorperal as sky. His ethereal hands play a damned melody, A harmonious tune filled with pernicious glee. Cadavers and spirits dance to the tune, under the view of the cursed sanguine moon. Dancing the darkness, with death in their veins, blood icy cold and the marks of their pains. After soul's midnight it will all disappear, until tomorrow at least, you have nothing to fear...
Reason for writing:
I am desperatly tying to get other humans to evaluate my
works, so I thought it would be benificial if I posted it
here.
Birth sign: Not entered
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