The Black Carousel
A collection of short stories.
Night - the carnival grounds are empty.... Or are they? Laughter and screams float faintly on the wind. Echoes of the day's fairgoers - or cries of the damned, rising from Hell?
At the carnival's core is the black carousel, whirling to a special rhythm that is almost a heartbeat. Its creatures seem alive in the flickering lights as they spin hypnotically past. And those who dare to ride are forever... changed.
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Risingshadow
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