"Dark Carnevil"
A Tale of Lost and Fallen Souls
© May 2008 ChaoticWorks.com

The caravan rocked slightly, then there was the slamming of the door. He was never quiet, unless he was hunting. He wasn't hunting now, for if he wanted prey, she was dozing in the back, nestled in a nest of blankets, sheets, and other panels of hodge podge material. The jolt of the closing door woke her, and even though he was a good fifteen feet from the bed, the smell reached her nose and made it sting and wrinkle up in defense. She clamped her eyes tighter shut and slowly pulled the covers over her head until the back of the caravan looked like nothing more than a pile of discarded bed linens. It was futile though, there was no hiding from him.

The smell got stronger, and his boots clumped heavily on the worn floor as he drew near. Blood, fresh and metallic, old blood, dank and foul, sweat, and madness. She could feel him, just next to the bed, standing there. He sniffed several times, then growled in thought and dropped down onto the bed pile somewhere near the middle. She involuntarily let out a sound as he landed his backside on her ribs. A dark laugh rasped from his throat, and he leaned down to nose into the blankets and dug about with dirty hands decorated with tattoos and trimmed with black dirty fingernails. "Mmmnnnrrrrggg...." he growled until he found her. More dark laughter and digging until he found a bare patch of skin, in this case, her neck, and began to nip and bite.

"Ahhhhhh! Noooo...." came the whimper from under the blankets, pleading was useless really, there was only placating, and submission, and then survival. The prize found, he pulled his hands back from the blanket pile, and quickly removed enough clothing and footwear to allow the act to take place, and then burrowed into the bed pile to find, overpower, and rut with the mate. Grunts, groans, tussling, and relentless primal drive until it was at last pleasurable for both. Once sated and now that there wasn't much difference in the scent between them, he spooned behind her and fell into a deathlike still sleep just as the sun began to rise.

She laid there, unable to return to sleep after the aggressive waking, and listened to the sound of rain, soft at first, begin to fall outside. Rain was one of those sounds so few people appreciated. Before the rest of the camp either retired for the day, or awoke, it was quiet enough to hear the water fall and identify each surface as it struck. After detangling herself from his grip, and dropping his arm onto the bed like a dead limb, she crawled to the side of the sleeping area to the wall, and cranked open the window. Now the patter of the rain on metal, wood, and dirt could be heard. She smiled, and inhaled deeply. The sweet smell of the first bit of rain on the air, on the dust. Ozone. Whatever it was, it was one of her favorite smells. Her attention was quickly returned to behind her when he grunted in his sleep, and moved about in the pile of blankets. If he awoke, which was rare, it would be round two. Quickly she departed the sleeping pit, gathered up some clothes and went to the front of the caravan and sat down at the galley table. As she looked out the window, she could see the first bits of sunlight bleeding in from the horizon. It was time for the day shift to come on, and that was her.

After dressing, she left the motorhome and went out into the dreary morning light. There were very few people moving around the carnival at this hour, the captives, servants, and chosen pets of the Carnies. This was no ordinary carnival, but it's differences, and dark corners were well hidden, and kept from the view of the paying public. It wasn't Hell, but it was a place shunned by those denizens of Heaven. Purgatory some believed. Or perhaps a place of punishment for evil souls before they die, and redemption is the goal. It was hard to tell, and it was never spoken of. It was just something that the workers thought about from time to time, or didn't.

She was one of those that didn't think about it much, if at all. It wasn't as if she was trapped there, or held prisoner, though some might think that if they saw her when she had been cable locked inside the motor home. This was for her protection as she was made to understand and not to prevent escape. If she wanted to run, where would she go? Home? Home had been forgotten somehow, and now the only home she knew was with him. He'd been the one to find her, to save her and nurse her back to health after that Bad Night, and as she'd healed and recovered, memories slipped away, and were forgotten.

#######

It had started out as a double date, guys and girls had met online, then agreed to meet at the Carnival that was in town. Two women showed up and met the two My Space guys that they had been chatting with for weeks. When they all arrived at the arranged rondesvous point, all were pleased that the real life people matched the images they had seen online, and the evening began. Rides, drinks, food, and of course lots of time was spent on the Midway trying to win prizes for the girls that would ensure physical pleasure later. The success there was minimal, so when the girls went to the restroom, and the guys went to get more drinks, they added something extra to them to help move the plans along a bit faster.

When the girls returned, they were convinced to slip behind the trailers of the midway to party back there and see what sort of prizes they could find. This was the first of many bad decisions. They found a pile of empty boxes, between two dumpsters, and settled down there to continue the evening. The couples paired off and making out ensued. It wasn't long before the girls were incompacitated and easy pickings for the male predators. Clothes were quickly removed, positions taken and sex accomplished. Heady with alcohol confidence, they swapped the girls between them, and even took pictures for publication later. Just as they were about to put more devious and sinister plans into action, the girls started to recover, and all Hell broke loose, or so they thought. Screaming followed, but it was easily drowned out by the roar of the rides, and the screams coming from there. It's so hard to tell the difference between those of giddy mechanical created fear, and those made by murderous acts.

Four were fighting in the debris and dirt, two for their lives, two for their freedom. More screams, knives appeared and flashed drawing out blood and life. Blood fell on the cursed ground, and as it seeped into the dirt and it's coppery tang blew on the wind, it called to one who thirsted for it above any other libation.

He appeared out of the darkness, silent as the shadows that cloaked him, and he grinned wide as he lifted his head to nose at the scents on the wind. Blood lust filled him, and he let out a feral roar that stopped the murders in place and time. Four terrified eyes turned to look into the darkness at what now towered behind them in the alley between fence and trailers. Hesitation on their parts, only a second or two, was all he needed, and when the sounds of his attack and frenzy feeding caught the ear of a compatriot who joined in, they were done for.

As the three o'clock hour tolled, and the gates closed, shutting the public out, and the denizens of the carnival in, the trash from the days concessions was tossed into the dumpsters. Some of the bags contained garbage from the food stands, and games, others contained human trash.

As he bent down to grip another still corpse, he paused. He sniffed, then leaned down and ran the tip of his nose along the neck of the woman and up to her ear. His tongue flashed out and tasted the warm sanguine river on her shoulder, and a feline purr rumbled in his chest. A second lap of tongue and he paused. Black matted and shaggy hair slid further into his eyes as he cocked his head to the side and listened with his predator's ears. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. This one still lived but for how long?

With a quick motion, he swept her up and he disappeared further into the darkness of the encampment. To a large, time and road worn RV she was taken, and carried into the back recesses of it. Like any predator would, he buried her in the piles of material that made up his den for later. There was more he needed to do that night before he could take the time needed for that distraction. Dawn would be coming, and time for him and his brethren to finish the night's tasks, was short.

Later, she could provide more sustenance, release, companionship, or perhaps only the first two if she wasn't hardy enough to survive the attack and his attentions afterward. Only time and fate would tell.

############

She pulled her jacket tighter around her as she made her way to one of the trucks where the supplies for the midway game booths were stored. When she arrived to get the needed supplies, she was informed that she was needed in the catering truck, as two of the girls who normally did that, had left. She narrowed her eyes at the scrawny piece of work that was telling there that, and didn't buy a word of that fairy tale. They'd been off'd, or some other dark fate had met them she was certain. She also didn't like being taken off her assigned tasks, but would go and help out until she felt it was definitely time to stock the booth she was responsible for.

She hated kitchen prep work, but after being assigned a mind numbing task, she was able to let her mind sort of free fall, and focus on nothing. She stared out of the dingy window of the truck, and watched the rain fall over everything. This would mean a slow night, a poor night, and that would darken everyone's mood. He never held her responsible for such occurrences, and wasn't one to take out misfortunes that weren't her fault on her. She was grateful for that, for there were many there that weren't so kind, or forgiving. Screams could be heard at times from the darkness of the camp long after the thrill rides had ended for the night. Screams that would chill the coldest of blood to be sure.

She paused in her work to put in the earbuds for her iPod that had been given to her one night when he'd come off of the midway for the night. She didn't ask where it had come from, or from who. It was a gift, a nice sentiment, so she took it at that. With the music of her choice playing in her ears and drowning out the sounds around her, she was able to let her mind idle, and lose herself in the monotony of the tasks required of her, for now.

Later, the rain eased and left behind only mud, puddles, and clouds overhead when the gates to the Carnival were opened at mid afternoon. Customers of all shapes and sizes, ages, and walks of life swarmed in, and ran among the garishly painted amusements like moths drawn to flame. She took little notice of most of them as they walked around. She stood before the gameboard behind her, and tossed the balls up and down slowly as she watched them and looked for those to bark to to call them to her game of chance. She was tired, more so than normal, and had little energy or drive for the job at hand. An apple was pulled from a pocket and she bit down on it to curb the hunger in her gut until she was relieved for the night, and a dinner break.

The sun was low in the sky by now, the breeze was picking up announcing the coming of the night, and those that dwelt in it's velvet embrace. Soon the personnel on the midway would change, and the games would somehow become so much more enticing, and nigh impossible to resist playing. The apple now had been gnawed to the very core and seeds, so she tossed it to the side of the booth into the darkness, and shook out her hand from the stickiness it had left behind. Suddenly from out of the blackness a hand reached out, and wrapped tanned fingers with black fingernail polish on the nails around her wrist and pulled so hard and strong, she was torn from the booth and dragged around to the side with seemingly little effort.

Her hands were gripped, held up over her head, and her back slammed against the chain link fencing side of the booth as a mouth tasting of whisky covered and claimed hers in a hungry kiss. She didn't struggle, but closed her eyes and welcomed him closer by lifting up a leg to wrap around his backside, and draw him in tighter. "Mmmmm....." she hummed, and bit back at his lips as he kissed her deep, and eager. When he let go of her hands, she held them in place over her head by gripping the chainlink in her hands. She hummed happily as she listened to him undoing belts, pants, and shimmying them down before he did the same with hers. As soon as she was bare from the waist down, he hefted her up, his hands under her arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist. With quick and practiced moves with his hips and hands soon rendered her impaled on him, and both groaned with the sensation.

Up against the wall, clutched, and bathed in the shimmering lights of the Carnival, but just out of view of the public, it was bliss, a rare moment before the night totally fell, and there was work to be done by him. His hand snaked up into her hair from behind and gripped tight as he pounded them to ultimate pleasure. Sighs, and tight embraces. Quick sloppy kisses, and then slowly she was lowered back to her feet to recover her clothing. He laughed, and she smiled crookedly at him. He was so gorgeous, so handsome and sexy. Over six feet tall, tanned, bottle glass green eyes, and a smile more fatal than any weapon or drug invented. Black shaggy hair fell to his collar, and framed that handsome divine face. He was seductive, pure animal sensuality and because of those charms, and other powers unholy, he was the King of the Midway. He was everything a girl could want, as long as he was under the lights of the Carnival....

###########

There's a time of day, everyday, when all of the Carnival is asleep and at rest. The rides, the midway, the booths, and concessions are all as dark, and empty as a place can be. A strange breeze is the only resident of the carnival at that time of twilight. It wanders in between all of the structures, coaches, trailers, trucks and debris, as if it is keeping guard while the denizens sleep comfortably in their metal mobile residences.

Four AM, and all is quiet, for the most part.

An hour ago, he returned to his den, and his mate. Quietly he'd crept into the caravan, and stripped down to the bare skin, and marks of his sins. Dark and gruesome stripes and patches that covered his face and body. It was a frightening sight to see, and an even more painful adornment to wear. Carefully he'd crawled into the bed pile and found the warmth buried there. He was calm this night, calmer than he'd been in recent memories, and he was content to allow her to continue to doze cradled in his arms, and wait for physical pleasure later. For a change.

For him, every now and then, when either the phase of the moon, or the tides were just right, clarity would come. For brief moments, perhaps hours, he could think straight, he could remember, he could make decisions that weren't based purely on the primal needs that controlled his life now. Or unlife as some might see it. What sort of life was it when your existence was limited in so many ways for an undetermined period of time?

One of those decisions he'd made in this fleeting slice of time, was to be gentle to her. He replayed that night in his head, and recalled how he'd found her, wounded, desecrated and left to perish at the selfish whim of others. He'd punished the transgressors, fatally. As far as he knew, the other victim had fled and survived. He hadn't expected her to survive to the next night, but like him, she possessed a will to survive, and endure. So that was what was allowed to happen. Now she endured him, and the nightly terror, and horror that he was. He wondered if she ever found the way, and the will, if she would flee. He would miss her if she did, and he knew that should they ever cross paths again, as punishment for leaving him, he would not be merciful with her life twice. Possession more than any softer emotion he felt for her. As he was now, he was incapable of feeling much else but the worst, and most base of human emotions. Tenderness was for those that dwelt in the light. For those that laughed, and loved, and knew warmth, and the sweet smells of nature, and sustenance.

The smells that filled his nose were death, and fear. Blood, and burnt food. Mold, dust, brimstone, and ash. The smell of his mate after their bodies had mingled, was the only sweet scent he found now. Everything else was part of the gray existence he and the others lived each night. The only bright colors came from neon, and glass bulbs, not the sun, or flowers, or trees and sky. Shadows and trickery, games and gambles. Rotten to the core, and a hungry thing always looking for more. Him? The Carnival? Or both?

Eventually, the clarity began to fugue, and grim thoughts, and anger returned. He shook his head, and nestled tighter behind the one sweet possession he could lay claim to uncontested, and closed bloodshot eyes as sleep took him away into blessed darkness, devoid of dreams. Sanctuary, for a little while.

There are sounds that occur in the night, natural and not. Darkness was wrapped around the Carnival grounds like a blanket, and every now and then a cricket, or animal would make it's presence known with a soft sound, the quiet would return. After a bit, a sound came that was not one of nature, or beast. It was a crushing, soft sound. Tires on gravel, approaching slowly, then slowly coming to a soft crunching stop. Three more similar series of sounds followed in the dark. The lights of the arriving patrol cars had been shut off to further aid in the surprise, stealthy arrival.

The residents of this small, out of the way town weren't thrilled when the Carnival had appeared on the edge of it's township five days before, but it had been popular with the town's board, and under entertained youth. Now that the daughter of the sheriff's sister's ex-husband's brother had gone missing, the new comers were of course the prime suspects. Even if that wasn't the case, which it was, xenophobia would always override common sense in this sort of situation. People fear what they don't know or understand. Fear of this particular Carnival was a wise thing, but often, it came far too late to do any good for those that had fallen prey to it.

To be continued....