Carny - October 31
Welcome to my serial Carny! I hope you enjoy this little Halloween treat. New episodes will appear every day through October.
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Start on October 1
October 31
Late on Halloween morning, a clown walked through the carnival, idly among the rides, past the games of skill and chance, and down toward the sideshow. Copley watched him approach, looking up from his newspaper. He sized the guy up, eighteen, maybe nineteen, ragged clothes and oversized shoes, a red rubber nose visible at a hundred paces. The magician looked back down at the paper.
“Russian Bomb Explodes!” read the newspaper headline, and so it had.
Copley had the picture of it in his head, a ball bright as the sun, a sick hatching to end the world, and yet here he was, alive on a bright October morning.
He only remembered pieces of the night, but the fragments were both vivid and impossible. The morning held only a few answers and little comfort. Everything had changed. Venus ran the cooch show now, but she was just Venus, a gorgeous, stacked dancer with a gleam in her eye like she knew just what everyone wanted. Today she looked hung over, but in control. Copley’s questions would wait.
Nick. The devil. Something in him had been turned. Venus might have done it, but Copley also remembered that he had heard Nick ask sometime in the rapturous night, “Do you believe I really wanted this to end?” Copley understood that the devil was one of them now. He didn’t have to like it, but he understood it. Nick had moved into Boss Willy’s trailer but that was a sham. Everyone knew Copley was the ran the show now.
The time of the magician had come. At least that’s what Pan said.
Where was Pan? When the orgy had wound down, Pan had pulled his dripping prick from the devil’s ass and kissed him, long and lasciviously. That was the last thing Copley remembered. He hadn’t seen Pan since. Copley hoped the demigod would be back though he had a hunch Pan had plans of his own.
The clown shuffled his big feet, shy at the last approach. Copley crossed his ankles, leaned back, and watched the kid.
Everything had changed. His veins pulsed with real magic he could call upon whenever he needed it; he had no doubt about it. Or you’re just a con man falling for his own con, he thought, the voice sounding a lot like Nick’s. He laughed, shaking his head. The devil wasn’t on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. He had the devil selling cotton candy outside the ring toss.
The clown stopped in mid-step, spooked, like a deer about to run.
“Morning,” Copley said.
“You guys need a clown?” The kid was tall and built like a farmhand, but there was grace in his posture. His face had character but he looked goofy too.
Copley considered the question. He saw something of the rituals ahead of them all, the turning of times and tides. “Sure,” he said. “We can use a clown, if you’re funny.”
“I can juggle.”
Copley figured that might be handy too. “What makes you want to join the carnival?"
The clown shrugged and Copley saw the answer in his greasepaint-lined eyes. “Magic.”
“Okay,” Copley nodded. “You’re in. We got a lot of ground to cover before winter season ends. This year, we may go right on through to spring.”
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
October 31Late on Halloween morning, a clown walked through the carnival, idly among the rides, past the games of skill and chance, and down toward the sideshow. Copley watched him approach, looking up from his newspaper. He sized the guy up, eighteen, maybe nineteen, ragged clothes and oversized shoes, a red rubber nose visible at a hundred paces. The magician looked back down at the paper.
“Russian Bomb Explodes!” read the newspaper headline, and so it had.
Copley had the picture of it in his head, a ball bright as the sun, a sick hatching to end the world, and yet here he was, alive on a bright October morning.
He only remembered pieces of the night, but the fragments were both vivid and impossible. The morning held only a few answers and little comfort. Everything had changed. Venus ran the cooch show now, but she was just Venus, a gorgeous, stacked dancer with a gleam in her eye like she knew just what everyone wanted. Today she looked hung over, but in control. Copley’s questions would wait.
Nick. The devil. Something in him had been turned. Venus might have done it, but Copley also remembered that he had heard Nick ask sometime in the rapturous night, “Do you believe I really wanted this to end?” Copley understood that the devil was one of them now. He didn’t have to like it, but he understood it. Nick had moved into Boss Willy’s trailer but that was a sham. Everyone knew Copley was the ran the show now.
The time of the magician had come. At least that’s what Pan said.
Where was Pan? When the orgy had wound down, Pan had pulled his dripping prick from the devil’s ass and kissed him, long and lasciviously. That was the last thing Copley remembered. He hadn’t seen Pan since. Copley hoped the demigod would be back though he had a hunch Pan had plans of his own.
The clown shuffled his big feet, shy at the last approach. Copley crossed his ankles, leaned back, and watched the kid.
Everything had changed. His veins pulsed with real magic he could call upon whenever he needed it; he had no doubt about it. Or you’re just a con man falling for his own con, he thought, the voice sounding a lot like Nick’s. He laughed, shaking his head. The devil wasn’t on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. He had the devil selling cotton candy outside the ring toss.
The clown stopped in mid-step, spooked, like a deer about to run.
“Morning,” Copley said.
“You guys need a clown?” The kid was tall and built like a farmhand, but there was grace in his posture. His face had character but he looked goofy too.
Copley considered the question. He saw something of the rituals ahead of them all, the turning of times and tides. “Sure,” he said. “We can use a clown, if you’re funny.”
“I can juggle.”
Copley figured that might be handy too. “What makes you want to join the carnival?"
The clown shrugged and Copley saw the answer in his greasepaint-lined eyes. “Magic.”
“Okay,” Copley nodded. “You’re in. We got a lot of ground to cover before winter season ends. This year, we may go right on through to spring.”
~End~
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 10/31/2011 6:46 PM 
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton Erotica Carny Horror
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton Erotica Carny Horror
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