The afternoon sky was turning a delicious shade of yellow, almost the colour of a roll of camera film, or glass sugar, or even perhaps a piece of perfect coffee stained paper. Oh yes, that’s the one, coffee stained paper. The clouds whirled in the sky, creating the different degrees of brown and yellow, almost identical to the uneven drying splats of dark coffee on a cheap napkin. Upon the amazingly textured background, the silhouette of the tall Ferris wheel inked itself along with the many other carnival rides, creating a seemingly simple but visually stunning piece of art. Beautiful as it is, the carnival appeared barren. There wasn’t a single soul in sight, something incredibly strange for a well invested carnival in a restless city.
Apparently, the carnival’s stay in the city was coming to an end. Within a few hours, the serenity of the place would be broken by the assembling crew, tearing it down for another long road trip to another awaiting town. Smiling as she turned her back to the eerie scene, Florica snapped the doors shut as she enjoyed the solitude and sweet tasting air of her old wagon. Opening a small hidden cabinet beneath the floorboards, she retrieved the sickle, her dry blood still coating its blade.
In an instant the candles flicked on simultaneously as she put the sickle on the table and settled down. With her eyes closed, she began to chant and soon, the old weapon was glowing with an unearthly light.
Gwen’s sobbing, which had been carrying on for the better part of the afternoon, suddenly ceased. She shot straight up on the bed, tears still wetted her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were wide open, emotionless, in a trance, possessed. The miniature sickle that hung from a golden chain on her neck glowed with a strange magical light. Her bare feet landed softly on the floor, marched down the stairs and through the doors. She left the house in a simple white nightgown and into the open air of the honeyed afternoon.
“That’s it, my dear,” Florica smiled at the moving image on the blade of the glowing weapon, “Come to me.”
“Gwen, have you finished packing yet?” Sebastian called from the study as he made his way through the last of the paperwork, “Gwen, baby, don’t be mad. Answer me. Gwen!”
Strange, he thought, she’d never shut out on me this long. He rang the bell and the maid came bustling in.
“Frieda, how’s Gwen?” He inquired. The woman looked up at him, surprised.
“Mistress went out just a while ago. I thought you knew, Master.”
“WHAT?” He shouted, eyeballs nearly popping out of his sockets. The poor maid shook like a leaf at her master’s sudden rage.
“M-mist-tress w-went out a-a while ago…”
“No, no, no, no…,” Muttered Sebastian as he too shot out of the doors in a flash.
“There you are, darling,” said the gypsy. With one hand, she stroked Gwen’s blank possessed face and the other slowly pushing down her sheer nightgown, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you. You’ll have everything you want.”
“God dammit!” Sebastian groaned in frustration as he punched the metal gate of the locked up carnival. How she got in was beyond him but knew his wife was in there and he was running out of time. Florica was never one to hesitate. The afternoon was dying fast and the nauseously yellow sky was making him sick. Shaking his head to stop the dizziness and biting down the bile that had risen to his throat, he decided there was only one way for him to get in. Silently, he prayed to God that the ton of metal right there won’t crash and burn down on him.
YOU ARE READING
I Might Be Slightly Insane
HorrorSee the title? Through the many tales that this book contains, I will try my best to justify that statement. And you, my friend, are invited to be the jury.
