Chapter 32: A Broken Waltz
Just then, the carousel lights flickered to life with a demonic wheeze, casting long, spinning shadows across the rotting square.
And then they moved.
The clowns didn’t charge so much as glide—seven feet tall, hunched like broken marionettes, their footsteps whisper-quiet despite their monstrous size. The one dragging the sack cracked his neck with a sound like snapping branches. The other lifted a gloved hand and beckoned.
How rude.
"Let’s skip the pleasantries," I said. "I’m on a bit of a schedule, and I don’t make a habit of dying before dessert."
The carousel spun behind them, creaking its hellish lullaby, the rotation slowing just enough for the platform to feel like a moving stage.
Perfect.
The first clown lunged—a sudden blur of teeth and motion. I ducked under its outstretched arms, pivoted onto the polished floorboards of the carousel, and slashed low. My dagger bit into its thigh. A hiss. No blood—only black, tar-thick ooze that bubbled like spoiled wine.
It spun after me, one massive fist arcing like a wrecking ball aimed straight for my temple. I leapt—but not fast enough.
CRACK.
Pain exploded behind my eyes like a firework gone wrong. The world tilted violently as I was hurled backward, smashing into a weathered carousel horse with a sickening snap. Its wooden head broke free, shattering into splinters that rained down around me like brittle confetti. I crumpled in a graceless heap, breath rasping in my throat.