G. M. Dark (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} illustratedman) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} wariscoming,@ 2012-07-31 12:25:00 |
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Who: Everyone and anyone
What: Dark's Carnival! Opening day.
Where: The outskirts of Lawrence.
When: July 31st, 2012
Warnings | Status: TBD | on going | ic/ooc (feel free to leave ooc comments with your characters!)
All the meannesses we harbor, they borrow in redoubled spades. They're a billion times itchier for pain, sorrow, and sickness than the average man. We salt our lives with other people's sins. Our flesh to us tastes sweet. But the carnival doesn't care if it stinks by moonlight instead of sun, so long as it gorges on fear and pain. That's the fuel, the vapor that spins the carousel, the raw stuffs of terror, the excruciating agony of guilt, the scream from real or imagined wounds. The carnival sucks that gas, ignites it, and chugs along its way.
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
Music blared in the background. It was a cacophony of sound that created some diabolical tune of insanity, twisted with some false sense of hope and merriment. It was a happy tune, like a soft dream picking and poking at childhood memories and seeping into the heart of nostalgia. It whistled in Dark's ears, and provided the hop in his step as he exited the train at the furthest edge of the carnival, and looked out over the sprawling grounds where he and his people set up shop. All about him milled the occupants of today's affair. All of them townsfolk who suspected so little of this cheery carnival and its freaks.
Childish eyes followed Dark eagerly, but his gaze was drawn only to those certain few. It was to them that he stuffed small business cards into their hands, the words Cooger and Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show printed in gold lettering on one side. He trudged along, hefting his cane and tipping his hat until he reached the center of the carnival. Staring up at the large tent, Dark spun on his heel and thrust his hands out to his sides, tipping his hat off his head as he did so, sinking into a large, dramatic bow.
"Welcome, welcome!" his voice boomed across the grounds, "to Cooger and Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show! Come, come we have an amazing sight to see today, my dears..." and thus he sank into a litany of advertisements, painting a picture and spinning ideas of what lay behind the tent flaps behind him, enticing children and adults alike. Come one, come all.. a show was about to begin. You shouldn't miss it for the world.
Behind it all, the machinery rattle-snapped the nervous drums, clashed the cymbals, croaked and sobbed the reeds, whistles and baroque flutes in that little merry tune. Dark's carnival had come. The carousel spun, the Ferris Wheel turned, and the Mirror Maze flickered with shadows; the pieces of someone's life were trapped there, waiting to be lived again.