5. Luci
Luci
The park looked hungry.
That was my first thought as I stepped through the striped curtains and into Graves Park. Like it was about to take every guest that walked its path and swallow them whole.
The midway stretched ahead of us beneath a darkening sky, its cracked pavement disappearing beneath ribbons of low-lying fog.
Old ticket booths leaned beneath the weight of peeling paint.
Their windows were dark, their counters littered with yellowed paper tickets that fluttered whenever the wind pushed through.
Somewhere beyond the trees, metal groaned. The wind swept across the park and caught the hanging swings of an abandoned ride, setting them in motion one at a time.
Creak.
Creak.
Creeeeeeaaaak.
The chains twisted slowly, empty seats turning beneath a canopy of faded red-and-yellow panels. One of the swings struck another with a hollow clang before drifting apart again.
No motor. No operator. Just the wind playing with them.
“Okay, this is creepier than I thought it would be,” Amber admitted.
She wasn’t wrong. I felt the same way, but it made me excited.
The Ferris wheel loomed over everything. Its steel frame rose above the midway, black against the darkening sky. Half the bulbs lining its spokes had burned out. The ones that remained blinked in no recognizable pattern, dim amber light stuttering across rusted metal.
One section flickered, went dark, and flickered again. The wheel turned so slowly I couldn’t hear the machinery beneath the wind. That somehow made it worse. Or better.
A torn banner snapped above an old game booth.
WIN A PRIZE FOR YOUR SWEETHEART
The painted clown beneath the words had lost half its face to weather, exposing gray wood beneath its smile. Stuffed animals hung from hooks inside, their fur matted with dust, glass eyes watching the empty midway.
A melody drifted from unseen speakers. The tune wobbled in and out, the notes warped as though the recording had been left buried in dirt for thirty years.
I breathed it all in.
Wet leaves from this morning’s rain, cold metal, the faint sweetness of cotton candy still clinging to my fingers - this wasn’t a haunt built inside a warehouse.
No black curtains hiding support beams. No temporary walls.
No fake decay. The park had been left to rot, and the Graves family had simply taught the rot how to perform.
Then I saw the carousel. It stood immediately to our left beneath a round, weathered pavilion. For one suspended second, the five of us stopped moving.
The carved horses stood frozen around the platform, their bodies dulled by age. Paint had chipped away from their flanks in curling flakes. Gold leaf clung stubbornly to saddles and bridles. Some had cracks running through their carved faces.
Above them, painted panels showed faded scenes of forests, castles, and women in flowing dresses. Even in the dark, it was beautiful. It hadn’t been restored. It was beautiful because it had survived.
A single bulb clicked on beneath the canopy. Then another. And, another.
Warm lights chased one another around the rim. The mirrors glowed. The horses jerked forward. Music burst from inside the center column, bright and tinny and wonderfully wrong beneath the evening sky.
I shrieked in complete and utter joy. It was a noise of such pure, uncontrollable delight that every one of my friends turned toward me.
“It works!” I said in giddy anticipation. The carousel began to turn, the horses rising and falling in slow waves. “Oh my God, it works!”
The girls looked at one another. No one said a word. We didn’t need to. All five of us made a beeline right for the gate. This would be where we started our evening.
A carney stood waiting for us. His trousers were striped black and gray, tucked into scuffed leather boots with curled toes. A stained ivory shirt hung loose beneath suspenders, one strap fastened with an old brass button and the other held together by a safety pin.
His face was painted white, but not cleanly like The Fool’s had been. Gray shadows hollowed out his cheeks. Black makeup had been dragged beneath his eyes in uneven streaks, giving him the look of someone who hadn’t slept since the park closed. A tiny bowler hat sat crooked on his head.
He leaned against the gate and smiled. His teeth were painted black between each one, making them appear sharp.
“Hello, little ladies.” His voice slithered through the music. “Would you like a ride?”
If this had been real, I would have sprinted in the opposite direction. Instead, I smiled sweetly.
“Yes, please. Thank you, sir.”
One of his eyebrows twitched. The corner of his mouth curled before he caught himself. For half a second, he wasn’t a sinister carney. He was a man trying not to laugh. Then his face emptied again. He pushed away from the gate and stared directly into my eyes.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he warned as he unlatched the chain.
The carousel slowed as another worker pulled a lever near the center platform. The organ music dragged to a warped stop, and the horses settled into place. We poured through the gate.
Mary and Amber immediately began arguing over a white horse with a red saddle. Sam climbed onto one covered in blue roses in the row behind them. Catherine stayed close behind me, already holding up her phone.
I moved to the next row and froze in my tracks.
The one in front of me was painted black.
Deep, glossy black, though age had worn the color thin along its muzzle and knees.
Orange embellishments curled over its shoulders like flames, trailing down its sides in ornate loops.
Tiny black gemstones had been pressed into the bridle, and the saddle was trimmed in tarnished gold.
It was perfect. Then I saw the name painted across its neck in delicate cursive.
Lucille
My heart fluttered.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Catherine! Look!”
I jabbed my finger toward the lettering. “It’s Lucille.”
Catherine stepped closer. “Shut up.”
“This is the horse my mom was riding when my dad kissed her for the first time,” I explained. “It’s how I got my name.”
I ran my fingertips over the painted letters. The wood was cold and slightly rough beneath the varnish.
“You need a picture,” Catherine said. “Even if you don’t post it, you have to send this to your parents!”
I grabbed the brass pole and pulled myself onto the saddle. The horse was higher than it looked, and I had to swing my leg over with considerably less grace than the moment deserved.
Catherine backed up, lifting her phone. I straightened and wrapped one hand around the pole and posed my body for the picture. Just as I was about to smile, my hair stood up.
“That’s a pretty horse you’ve chosen, Luci.”
The voice came from directly behind me and I launched upward. A startled noise tore out of my throat as my body twisted in the saddle. Two hands firmly caught my waist. They steadied me before I fell sideways off the horse.
As my heart slammed against my ribs, I looked down at the gloved hands braced around me. Then over my shoulder. The Ringmaster stood behind the carousel horse. Up close, his eyes were somehow even greener beneath the carousel lights.
His face remained perfectly composed, but there was something pleased hiding at the edges of his expression. He had scared me. Actually scared me.
A laugh broke from my chest, breathless and disbelieving. The rush raced through my entire body, bright and electric.
“That was…” I pressed one hand to my heart. “I’ll give it to you. That was good.”
His fingers tightened once at my waist before he released me.
I turned toward Catherine who was laughing so hard that her phone was shaking in her hand.
“What the fuck, dude?” I glared in her direction. “You didn’t say anything!”
“I wanted the picture.” She shrugged.
Still laughing, she climbed onto the horse next to Sam’s in the row in front of me leaving the space around Lucille, the horse, empty.
Except for the Ringmaster. He hadn’t moved. He stood beside the black horse, one hand resting lightly on the brass pole as he watched me. The carousel lights moved over his face in slow bands of gold and shadow.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Are you just going to stand there all night?”
His mouth curved. Not a smile. Something more dangerous than that.
“The Ringmaster never stays in one place for long.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear. “But wherever you wander tonight you can be certain I won’t be far behind.”
The carousel jolted beneath us. He stepped smoothly off the moving platform just before it began to turn. The lights carried him in and out of view until he disappeared into the fog.
He’s trouble, I thought to myself as the carousel rose beneath me, lifting Lucille toward the canopy. Beautiful, broad-shouldered, green-eyed trouble dressed in a tattered red coat. And apparently, I was going to be seeing a lot of him tonight.