Who: Horror (Narrative) What: Horror dealing with her yearly insanity When: Afternoon of October 25 Where: Midway Plaisance Warnings: Mentions of blood and, well....Horror.
It catches up to her faster than she can let it go, and every once in awhile, it threatens to overwhelm her.
This time, it happens as she passes behind a tent, and it is just luck that she is far from the eyes of carnies and guests alike. The power bubbles up inside her until she feels she has to do something or burst with it, and before she can even realize it’s happening, she is giggling. Mad, delighted giggles burst forth from her mouth, and Horror has to reach out for whatever support the canvas can give her. She is breathless with the force and suddenness of it, and it is both painful and a relief when she falls to the ground and it turns to laughter. Fingers digging into the dirt, she tries to ground herself, tries to let go of what is hers and what she’s never before tried to channel this way.
The month is almost over, so she’s lasted longer than she’d thought, but the last week is always the worst and she is already over the edge where she should have broken. She should have snapped and brought everything around her down in flames, or run off leaving a trail of blood and tears behind her.
She has done neither.
She has hidden her little fits, has dug her nails into the wooden arms of her chair and has stared vacantly into her mirror while the lights and calliope music of the carnival flare and sing with brilliance while she loses hours at a time. She has dug so deep into the minds of the carnies that in some cases, they will never get her out, and if any one of them thinks of running before the first of next month, they will never return. They will be dead, torn to pieces.
She has held on as best as she can, but she won’t last much longer.
She no more than regains her feet for the barest of seconds before she vomits, bright red blood spattering onto the ground and against the tent beside her. She wipes her mouth and then licks her lips, savouring the salty taste even if it is just her own.
Horror walks away and leaves the mess behind for someone else to deal with, or for no one to notice until the next time the tent is set up and someone wonders where the dried red droplets have come from. She doesn’t care, either way.
Her mind will be somewhere else entirely before it can even dry.