Carnival of Dead Girls

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “Nah. It’s a dump. Burned up inside too. But this beast of a house won’t fall down. I don’t think an F5 tornado could take it down,” she said, gazing at the house alongside me.

  I walked around to the backside, observing a skinny alleyway and a beat-up, old floodwall behind the house. Scribbly words—graffiti—covered half of the wall. I squinted at the words, trying to read them. They didn’t look like the English language.

  “Qui autem intrat non egrediar,” I struggled to pronounce the words.

  “It means ‘He who enters won’t come out,’ ” Rachel said softly from behind me.

  “How do you know that?” I stared at the angry letters, barely breathing. Someone had written them here, long ago.

  “Because in a town this small, there’s not much else to do. It’s Latin. I bought a book from the bookstore and translated it. Easy as that.”

  I thought about the carnival name on the flier when they came to Lamison Point. Carnival de Arcanorum, another Latin word.

  “What does it mean? I mean, why would somebody write that here?” I asked, a gust of wind causing me to shiver.

  She simply shrugged.

  Beyond the wall, a river gushed. I spotted a decrepit walking bridge in the distance.

  “What the hell happened over there?” I pointed at what appeared to be a burned down factory across the river. “How did fire reach both sides of the river?”

  “Like I said, it was a bunch of crazy girls that did it. They burned that one down first, then came across the river…” she said softly, her voice far away and thoughtful.

  “This place is the pits,” I added, frowning.

  “That’s putting it lightly…Okay, well I’d better hurry if I’m going to get the flashlights and stuff,” she reminded me. I nodded, dreading her departure.

  “Is it okay if I just sit out here while you’re gone?” I asked, pointing at the river. I wasn’t ready to venture inside the house without her next to me.

  “Sure. I don’t think anyone will see you, anyway. Nobody comes down this street, except when the carnival comes to town.”

  I took a seat on the edge of the riverbank, watching Rachel’s form grow smaller and smaller in the distance. I couldn’t imagine sleeping two nights in this place, and I didn’t really want to think about it. And all because of stupid Freya, I thought, slumping miserably as my teeth chattered from the cold.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It’ll be fun. Kind of like a sleepover!” Rachel gushed excitedly. She carried a heavy-looking backpack, as well as two blankets in her arms.

  We were still outside, watching the sun go down. The deserted street was deathly quiet. Eerie.

  “Not to mention the fact that when I tell everyone at Plainview—that’s where I go to school—they’re going to think I’m such a badass,” she went on.

  The October air was cool, icily crisp. Instead of slowing down, the river water whipped and whirled, angry waves slashing against the muddy river banks. Outside or inside—this place was creepy.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I said, relieving her of the blankets. “How do we get inside?”

  “This way,” Rachel said with a wink, leading the way to the other side of the house. The earth around the house was scorched black, no plants or flowers to be seen.

  “This window’s open,” she said, pointing at a narrow, old-fashioned sill.

  “So you’ve been here before?” I asked, confused.

  “Look, I’ve never stayed here by myself, but I’ve snooped around a bit during the daytime. One day, like six months ago, I found the front door unlocked. That’s when I ran in and unlocked this window. I knew someday I’d have the guts to actually come inside…”

  I raised my eyebrows, not impressed with her bravery. I’d thought she was being good-natured by volunteering to come with me. But as it turns out, I was the excuse she needed to fulfill some sort of weird fantasy about sleeping in haunted houses.

  She lifted up on the window, eager to get inside. It didn’t budge.

  “Welp, looks like your dream come true isn’t happening tonight.” I whirled around, heading back out to the street.

  Fuck this. Ready to go home, I thought about my nice, comfy bed and my dad’s shish kebabs. Freya wasn’t worth it…

  But then I heard a crunching sound, like paint breaking, and when I looked back, the window was open.

  “Just needed a little elbow grease!” Rachel grinned as she propped herself up and over the sill.

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave her in there alone…

  Groaning, I walked over to the window, tossed the blankets through the hole, and climbed inside the strange house, praying I didn’t live to regret this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was in what I guessed to be a sitting room, although there was no furniture to be seen. Rachel stood there gripping a Maglite, grinning as though she’d known all along that I’d follow. I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “No furniture?” I asked, gathering up the blankets. The floor was hardwood, angry black scorch marks smearing their once glossy surface. My voice bounced off the walls, echoing throughout the empty space.

  “I’m not sure. But when I’ve looked through the windows, I’ve never seen much. I think most of it burned up.”

  “I thought you said you came in and unlocked the window?”

  “Yeah, well…I ran like hell, in and out. Nearly scared myself to death,” Rachel chortled.

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Give me one of those,” I said, pointing at her flashlight. She set her backpack down, digging around for another one. She handed me a smaller version of hers, as well as a bottle of water.

  “Any food in there?” I asked. She dumped its contents out, revealing a couple candy bars and squished packs of crackers. I was so hungry I didn’t care.

  I opened the crackers up, pouring the crumbs in my mouth.

  We plopped down on the floor, finishing off the food and sipping our water.

  “So, what did you tell your stepdad?” I asked curiously.

  “Ah. I told him that I was going to my friend Taylor’s house. I stay there a lot on the weekends, so it’s not a big deal.” She stared at me, assessing me for something.

  “And what about you? Where do your parents think you are, Josie?”

  I took another drink of water. “They don’t know where I am. I just took off, rather impulsively I’ll admit, but I thought maybe Freya was kidnapped and I felt like it was my fault…”

  “Why would it be your fault?” she asked. I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was tell my new friend about what happened between Freya and me at the carnival.

  “We had a disagreement is all. And then I was sitting at the top of the Ferris wheel and I saw this guy—Pockets—man-handling her. They were arguing. I couldn’t find her afterwards, but I was so mad that I just left, not thinking twice about it…But then she didn’t come to school all week and now the police are looking for her. So, maybe I wanted to be the hero…My way of making it up to her and myself for just leaving like that.”

  “I know who Pockets is,” she said nonchalantly.

  “You do? Is he a bad guy?”

  “Yeah, he’s an asshole. But I still can’t see him or any of the carnival workers kidnapping a girl.”

  I chewed at my nails thoughtfully. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe Freya rebelled, ran away on her own. Maybe this was an attempt to get attention. Well, if so, she’d succeeded.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to sleep two nights in this place,” I said, looking around the black room. The flashlights sat between us, making our faces exaggerated, ghost-like.

  I picked my light up, shined it around the room. It was empty besides remnants of wallpaper and blackened floor boards. “Let’s look around,” I suggested.

  Rachel’s eyes widened. I expected her to say no, but she nodded okay. We walked through the rooms on the first floor, our flashlights held out in front of us. Now that the sun was gone, i
t was getting more and more chilly. I wished for one of those blankets back in the sitting room.

  I don’t know if I imagined it or not, but there seemed to be a strange smell in the air. I sniffed loudly.

  “Smells like something burning, right?” Rachel asked.

  I nodded. It seemed crazy that it could still smell so bad years later.

  The rooms were mostly empty, remnants of bedroom furniture in one room and a cast iron bath tub standing strong in one of the bathrooms.

  “Who lived here?” I asked, staring at the eerie fragments of a kitchen counter.

  “Ah. Lots of people,” she said vaguely.

  “How many?” I asked, approaching a grand set of blackened stairs. I took a few tentative steps, Rachel pushed me forward.

  “Well, it used to be owned by the Garretts. A sick, twisted group of fucks. They tortured girls and stuff. That’s why they call it the House of Horrors.”

  I immediately dropped my flashlight. It clattered loudly on the stairs and went rolling, off toward one of the bottom-floor rooms.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?” I asked angrily. “Get me the hell out of this place!” I screamed, scurrying past her down the stairs.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs, and immediately began groping for my flashlight on the floor. Finally, I got down on my knees, crawling around to find it.

  That’s when something hit me over the head.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Oh my god! Are you okay?” Rachel screamed in the dark.

  I moved around, trying to unpin myself from whatever had fallen on top of me.

  Rachel stood over me now, shining her flashlight in my face. “Holy shit. The whole light fixture came down on you. Don’t move. I’ll get it off,” she assured me.

  The dome-shaped light wasn’t heavy. When it struck me, it was just so shocking. I pushed it off easily, without any help.

  “I’m so sorry, Josie. I’m sorry I brought you here and put you in danger,” Rachel moaned.

  “It’s not your fault.” I stood up shakily, rubbing the sore spot on my head.

  “Let me see,” she demanded, turning me around and shining the light on my head. “Looks like a goose’s egg, but you’ll live.”

  “A goose’s egg?” I laughed in spite of my recent injuries. “Maybe next time you decide to tell me I’m in a house where a bunch of girls were murdered, try not to do it on the staircase…in case I flip out.”

  Rachel smiled, handing me my flashlight. It had rolled near the front door of the house.

  I pressed the button to turn it on, but nothing happened. “Damn,” I muttered. “Maybe this place really is haunted.”

  Rachel looked at me with a grave expression. “It’s not haunted. You see, there are some things in life worse than ghosts and monsters…”

  “And yeah, what’s that?” I asked, confused.

  “Monsters who look like humans. They wear the same form as you and I, but underneath the mask…”

  I stared at her silently.

  Upstairs, she showed me where they kept the girls. She told me the whole, gruesome story…The story of an evil family who trafficked girls and drugs, a family that’d spawned generations of evil.

  “So, that’s why none of the owners rebuilt around here. Nobody wanted to be near this place,” I mumbled softly, staring out one of the girls’ windows. A perfect view of the river, and what used to be the asylum on the other side. I shivered involuntarily.

  “So, what’s the carnival want with this place? Why do they set up here on this awful street, with its awful history?” I asked.

  “Well for one, they have plenty of room since there aren’t any other houses around. And two, they use this place as a haunted house for Halloween.”

  My eyes widened disbelievingly. “That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “I know,” she said, making her way back toward the stairs.

  “Can we sleep in that empty room we came in? I don’t like it up here and want to be close to the window or door to get out of this place if we need to,” I commented seriously.

  “Oh, I told you it’s not haunted.”

  We made our way back downstairs.

  “I’m not afraid of ghosts. I’m afraid of the Garretts,” I whispered.

  Despite my fear, I was so tired and cold that I rolled up in my blanket, scooting close to Rachel since she had the one working light. I wasn’t normally the praying type, but I said a few just in case before dozing off.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Get up! Get up, Josie! They’re here a day early!” Rachel shouted. Instantly aroused from sleep—thinking the heinous Garrett family was back from the dead—I leapt to my feet, gathering up the blanket I’d slept on.

  My eyes still full of sleepiness, I stumbled around the room, helping Rachel gather up our snack wrappers and bottles. It was morning time, the sun brightening the empty room and making it considerably less scary than I remembered.

  “Who’s here?” I whispered, following her as she climbed out the window.

  “Shhhh…the carnival workers,” she whispered back.

  “Oh.”

  Rachel tip-toed up to the house’s edge, peering around the corner of its crumbled exterior. I immediately heard the sounds of tools. Hammers and drills hard at work.

  “Do you see Pockets?” I asked, wide awake now.

  “No, the carnies aren’t here yet, but the setup crew is. They’re assembling the tents on the other side of the house. Act casual, like you’re a jogger,” she said suddenly, then took off jogging down Clemmons Street.

  I stood there, stunned. But then quickly took off behind her.

  Jogging forward, I caught a glimpse of the setup crew. They were indeed erecting tents, and farther down the street I could see the disassembled spaceship ride and multiple sets of game booths.

  The Carnival de Arcanorum was back in town. Although Rachel said the carnies wouldn’t kidnap Freya, after the story last night about the evil families who’d resided in Flocksdale in the past, I felt more certain than ever that something terrible had happened to my friend.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Finally slowing to a walk, I followed behind Rachel, gasping from the physical exertion. She kept on going, away from the House of Horrors and the carnival on Clemmons Street, which was where I needed to be if I ever wanted to find Freya.

  Reaching the heart of Flocksdale, it seemed tiny but trendy with small, eccentric stores and crowds of townspeople coming and going on the sidewalks. There were a few people riding their bikes.

  When we finally stopped in front of a rundown drugstore, I took the opportunity to ask what the hell was going on. “I’m supposed to be looking for Pockets at the Carnival de Arcano—or however the fuck you say it, not running in the opposite direction!”

  “Whoa…what did you call it? The Carnival of what?” Rachel asked, perplexed.

  “The Carnival de Arcanorum,” I said, trying my best to pronounce the strange Latin word. “I can look things up too. It means Carnival of Secrets. But why don’t you already know this?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

  But before she could respond, I was thinking out loud. “The Carnival de Arcanorum…” I said wondrously. “They must change the name from town to town. That’s why I couldn’t find anything about them on the internet. They’re constantly switching names. If it wasn’t for your mom’s book, I never would have linked the carnival to Flocksdale…” I considered, still rubbing some sleep from my eyes.

  Rachel stared at me, hands placed on hips—a defensive stance. “That’s stupid. Why would they change the name?”

  “Well, what do they call themselves when they come home and set up for the week?”

  Rachel stared at me dumbly. “Flocksdale’s Carnival. Duh.”

  “Ever tried to search for ‘Flocksdale’s Carnival’ on the internet?” I pushed.

  She shook her head. “No. Why would I? I never even go. Don’t want to see my
mom showing off her—” Her face reddened.

  “So, what now? Why are we running?” I asked.

  “I didn’t want anyone to see me there. My mom would shit if she knew I stayed overnight in an abandoned house—in the haunted house, no less.”

  “Wait. You’re so damn confusing! You said it wasn’t haunted.”

  “No, but it’s about to be. They’re going to spend the day setting up the carnival attractions, and the House of Horrors is one of them. They’re going to stage it up all scary-like and turn it into the freakiest haunted house in town…although I never go. Like I said, I usually stay home. But look—the setup crew’s there, but not the regulars. They’ll be there by sundown, I’d guess. We might as well wait, sneak up on Pockets. Maybe Freya’s with him. Maybe she ran away and we’ll find her when we find him.”

  I mulled it over. She was right—waiting till all the carnival workers arrived and opened the carnival was probably the best idea. I didn’t want to spook Pockets, or Freya, if she was with him. I needed to talk to them both. And the idea that maybe Freya ran away instead of being kidnapped…well, that seemed believable too.

  “Well, what the hell are we gonna do until the carnival, then?” I asked Rachel.

  She shrugged. “Maybe go eat, then go hang out at the cemetery?”

  The cemetery…great. This town was pretty pathetic if its only distractions were an abandoned old house, a cemetery, and a stupid carnival.

  ***

  Although I still felt an inexplicable urgency to locate Freya, my feelings for Rachel and her well-being were of the utmost importance to me. I could tell as the day wore on that she was growing more and more nervous. “Are you worried about going to the carnival?” I asked finally. We were walking around an empty, rundown skating rink. There was nothing much to do but talk.