Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down
Chapter 2
The remainder of the week passed by in a blur, and Saturday morning quickly arrived. After packing a day’s worth of water bottles, money, and travel maps, the family piled into their rustic Toyota and set off for the park. It was generally a quiet ride.
“This carnival better be good,” Malcolm grumbled after getting on the freeway. “It took me ages to find it. It wasn’t on Mapquest, wasn’t on Google…there’s not a website at all!”
“Then how did you find it?” asked Samantha.
“I asked around the office. Some guy said his parents went there, and they gave directions in their postcard they sent. But all it really said was ‘follow the signs.’”
Chace, still sullen and bruised from school, muttered something in agreement.
“I know, Chace, I know,” snapped his father angrily. “All I’m saying is that whoever’s running this place has no idea what they’re doing. For all we know, it might not even be legal!”
Sensing tension, Leona gently rolled her hand over her husband’s.
“Honey, relax. We all need this break.”
Malcolm sighed in defeat.
Before long, they arrived in the mountains. It was a clear day, although still sharp and cold. At the end of the main road, a bright yellow sign proclaimed:
Wood Creek Carnival 3 miles
“I suppose we just keep going until we meet the other posts,” murmured Leona.
Sure enough, there were several more signs along the path pointing their car in the right direction. All of them were very clean and looked like they’d never felt the stormy wrath of the rain that frequently plagued the area.
At the top of the centermost mountain, the McCoreys were relieved to find the ‘Entrance’ sign. The parking lot was very small, with room for less than twenty cars. Even then, only a few other cars were there. They were the only people in the otherwise deserted parking lot.
A highlighter-yellow ticket booth with dark windows stood in the sun. The family got out of the car with their possessions and Leona ambled to the window. There was only a slot and a speaker.
A scratchy voice came on over the intercom.
“Welcome to Wood Creek Carnival! How many people?”
“Four. We already have our tic—“
The slot spit out four tickets immediately.
Perhaps they didn’t hear me? “Sir, I said we already had our tickets,” Leona restated politely.
“Enjoy your stay at Wood Creek,” the speaker said, paying no notice. He--or it might be a she--continued to talk.
“There will be a short film for you to watch before entering the park. It gives a short summary of the rich history of the park and shows some of our attractions you can visit today. We hope you enjoy it.”
Still confused, Leona took the tickets and motioned for her family to follow her.
Behind the ticket booth was a series of gates with small machines by each one, not unlike the sort found on the subway or airport. Each of the family members slid their tickets into the machines and passed through the gate. Each time they did, there was a shrill beep that echoed with a sort of finality.
Beyond the machines was a small black building, presumably the theatre. One by one the family filed in through the open doors.
As soon as the last one of them (Samantha) was inside, the doors silently glided shut. The lights were dimmed, but there was still enough light for the McCoreys to find their seats.
It was a small theater—not much bigger than the sort found in homes. There were perhaps twenty-five seats, and there were about a dozen other people. They were all chattering quietly.
After a few minutes, the lights shut off, and the talking ceased abruptly. There was a whirring of gears in the background--Chace wondered if the television was making the noise, but it seemed to be coming from behind. Text suddenly appeared on the movie screen, a sharp green color.
WOOD CREEK CARNIVAL IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.
YOU ARE NOT HERE TO BE ENTERTAINED.
YOU ARE HERE TO DIE.
“This carnival better be good,” Malcolm grumbled after getting on the freeway. “It took me ages to find it. It wasn’t on Mapquest, wasn’t on Google…there’s not a website at all!”
“Then how did you find it?” asked Samantha.
“I asked around the office. Some guy said his parents went there, and they gave directions in their postcard they sent. But all it really said was ‘follow the signs.’”
Chace, still sullen and bruised from school, muttered something in agreement.
“I know, Chace, I know,” snapped his father angrily. “All I’m saying is that whoever’s running this place has no idea what they’re doing. For all we know, it might not even be legal!”
Sensing tension, Leona gently rolled her hand over her husband’s.
“Honey, relax. We all need this break.”
Malcolm sighed in defeat.
Before long, they arrived in the mountains. It was a clear day, although still sharp and cold. At the end of the main road, a bright yellow sign proclaimed:
Wood Creek Carnival 3 miles
“I suppose we just keep going until we meet the other posts,” murmured Leona.
Sure enough, there were several more signs along the path pointing their car in the right direction. All of them were very clean and looked like they’d never felt the stormy wrath of the rain that frequently plagued the area.
At the top of the centermost mountain, the McCoreys were relieved to find the ‘Entrance’ sign. The parking lot was very small, with room for less than twenty cars. Even then, only a few other cars were there. They were the only people in the otherwise deserted parking lot.
A highlighter-yellow ticket booth with dark windows stood in the sun. The family got out of the car with their possessions and Leona ambled to the window. There was only a slot and a speaker.
A scratchy voice came on over the intercom.
“Welcome to Wood Creek Carnival! How many people?”
“Four. We already have our tic—“
The slot spit out four tickets immediately.
Perhaps they didn’t hear me? “Sir, I said we already had our tickets,” Leona restated politely.
“Enjoy your stay at Wood Creek,” the speaker said, paying no notice. He--or it might be a she--continued to talk.
“There will be a short film for you to watch before entering the park. It gives a short summary of the rich history of the park and shows some of our attractions you can visit today. We hope you enjoy it.”
Still confused, Leona took the tickets and motioned for her family to follow her.
Behind the ticket booth was a series of gates with small machines by each one, not unlike the sort found on the subway or airport. Each of the family members slid their tickets into the machines and passed through the gate. Each time they did, there was a shrill beep that echoed with a sort of finality.
Beyond the machines was a small black building, presumably the theatre. One by one the family filed in through the open doors.
As soon as the last one of them (Samantha) was inside, the doors silently glided shut. The lights were dimmed, but there was still enough light for the McCoreys to find their seats.
It was a small theater—not much bigger than the sort found in homes. There were perhaps twenty-five seats, and there were about a dozen other people. They were all chattering quietly.
After a few minutes, the lights shut off, and the talking ceased abruptly. There was a whirring of gears in the background--Chace wondered if the television was making the noise, but it seemed to be coming from behind. Text suddenly appeared on the movie screen, a sharp green color.
WOOD CREEK CARNIVAL IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.
YOU ARE NOT HERE TO BE ENTERTAINED.
YOU ARE HERE TO DIE.
♠ ♠ ♠
Merry Christmas, everyone. :)