The Confabulator Cafe

Tag: carnival

  • The Things Which Must Be Done… (Flash Fiction)

    Disclaimer: I know I was supposed to write a flash fiction but once I got into the story, it took on a life of its own and grew into a true short story. Presented here is the first part of the two part tale. — Jason

    The Ringmaster of the Circus of Crime from Marvel Comics. Owned and maintained by Marvel.

    Sure clowns are scary – I’ve read that Stephen King book – but they’re not the ones trying to the end the world. Uh uh. It’s the twisted, evil ringmasters you’ve gotta worry about. That guy in the Marvel comics with the hypno-hat and all the circus ‘freaks’? He’s bush league compared to some of the ones I’ve taken down.

    The wind was October chilly and whirled the brittle leaves up the block in a swirl of orange, red and yellow as I took my morning walk. I had my hands in the pockets of my jacket, jingling some change and my collar turned up. The rubes were probably still in bed that early, and I could smell the warmth of fires in fireplaces or stoves. It’s one of the things I love most about fall . Anyway.

    It was the police cars halfway up the block that really had my attention. Three of them, none flashing their lights, with a couple of officers standing in the driveway. The neighborhood was pleasant and probably forty or fifty years old. I mean, it’s pretty obvious which houses were built in the ’70s if you pay attention.

    “Excuse me, sir,” one of the officers said as he crossed the street toward me. I pulled out my earbuds and gave him a look that said I wasn’t expecting him to stop me. “Do you live in the neighborhood?” Leonard, his nametag said.

    “No. I’m at the Barrow Square Hotel a couple blocks over.” I showed concern. “Something happen?” (more…)

  • Carnival of Riddles (Flash Fiction)

    Benny stood over the disemboweled body, his facial expression unchanged.

    “Sonofabitch,” he said.

    He backed up against the flimsy structure of the milk-bottle toss, making the booth shake.

    “Hey,” Syd yelled from the other side. “Watch it!”

    Benny peered around the corner at Syd and signaled him to come over.

    “Problem?” Syd flipped his sign to “closed” and jumped over the counter. He followed Benny and looked down at the body. “Holy shit.” Syd’s face remained passive, but he hopped from foot to foot, and his eyes darted around the small space between game booths.

    Benny nodded. “That’s the third one this week. We have a definite problem.” (more…)

  • Confronting the Past (Flash Fiction)

    Under the wavering beam of my flashlight, strips of red and yellow flapped in the breeze from where something had shredded the abandoned carnival tent.  I’d been here before. Every summer, my cousins would come to town and we would all pile into the rusted station wagon and make the two hour drive to the clearing in the woods, eager to see what new performance the traveling circus had put together.

    I grabbed a fistful of the flap and pulled it open. I remembered the flap being heavier, but then I’d only been a kid the last time we were here. Dust choked the air, shining under the weak beam of light. I drew in a deep breath, and stepped into the tent. (more…)

  • Midway Mark (Flash Fiction)

    I remember the last time we thought she was dying.

    We had gathered there in the small, curtained hospital room, a place devoid of both privacy and hope. We’d taken turns kissing her cheeks for good luck, a small mercy suggested by one of the nurses. We’d said goodbye without speaking the words because the pending loss was still too awful to accept. And then they’d wheeled her away, presumably forever.

    My grandmother had seemed unaware of any of us at the time. As they took her, her eyes had been filled with a wild, rolling panic, like an animal whose only thoughts are to flee the fear and the pain and the death it knew was stalking it. Gone was the elder matriarch who’d held sway over us all, replaced instead by this being whose sole purpose was to survive.

    It had seemed unlikely at the time, but we should have known better. Our family doesn’t die that way.

    (more…)

  • Calliope (Flash Fiction)

    The calliope sang, and the dark child wept. The steam-powered notes taunted him through the dirt-hazed glass of the attic window, as he stared into the suburban abyss. A spinning Skittles rainbow of twinkling Ferris wheel lights teased him.

    The dark child retreated to the shadows. The thick hair of his back itched against insulation. Tears fell from his red, night-glow eyes. The days were bad. The sound of passing school buses and playing children tormented him. But nothing—nothing compared to the carnival.

    The joyous cries of children invaded his sensitive ears. He covered them with his hands, digging his long, sharp fingernails into the surrounding flesh. His pain could not silence the ecstasy of others. The world lived, and he died a slow, lonely death. (more…)

  • This is a Dark Ride (Week Ending October 27)

    This is a Dark RideYears ago, there was a television program called The John Larroquette Show. John Larroquette starred as a recovering alcoholic who had become the manager of a bus station. The show had a dark humor, characterized by John’s attitude toward his addiction. During the first episode, he hangs a carnival sign on his office wall that reads “This is a Dark Ride.”

    For the uninitiated, a dark ride is an indoor amusement ride in which guided vehicles travel through specially lit scenes. If you’ve ever been through a ride like the “Tunnel of Love” or Disneyland’s “Pirates of the Caribbean,” you know what we mean. A dark ride doesn’t have to be literally dark, but often darkness is used to conceal what comes next.

    That sign, and its implications about our lives, has stuck with me for nearly 20 years. Life is very much a dark ride.  Our future is concealed by the veil of time. It offers unexpected thrills around every turn. Sometimes the surprises are happy ones, but often they are terrifying.

    Our flash fiction assignment for this week was inspired by the season and the classic novel Something Wicked This Way Comes. Writer Ray Bradbury combines horror and fantasy in a story of a traveling carnival that comes to a small town one October. The carnival leader, Mr. Dark, fulfills the townsfolk’s secret desires … but at a price.

    We asked our writers in the Cafe to channel their darkest thoughts and write a short story for Halloween. They have been thinking about carnivals and the strange awful things that could be lurking in those traveling shows.

    So climb aboard. Keep your arms and legs inside at all times. This is a dark ride.

    Until Next Week,

    The Cafe Management