Fairground of Terror

1986

The fair was a massive let-down. Luke didn’t know why he’d expected it to be anything else. Fairs were for kids, after all, and he wasn’t a kid anymore. But the garish posters and flyers that had heralded its arrival had filled him with false hope. They’d made him think of films he’d watched as a kid, where fairs came to small towns like Wakely and brought adventure and excitement.

Graham also looked unimpressed. He walked beside Luke, scrawny shoulders hunched, hands buried in the pockets of his black jeans, his lazy right eye turning slightly inwards.

Graham’s cousin Gerry, who was two years younger, was taking everything in and internalising his thoughts, sometimes scratching his thatch of ginger hair and frowning at the mediocrity of it all.

Beyond the edge of the fair, to their right, rose the flyover that allowed discerning drivers to avoid Wakely altogether. Its huge grey bulk was a shadow in the failing spring evening light, and the usual buzz of traffic was drowned out by the din of the fair. Currently, Madonna was squeaking about getting into the groove, but her strident tones were competing with around 20 other tracks, blaring from different rides across the field that contained the fair.

Luke gave his friends an apologetic look. ‘Distinct lack of fit birds.’

Graham shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t cop off even if there were any.’

Gerry laughed, joining them in the real world. ‘I would.’

‘Don’t say that, Graham, mate.’ Luke slapped a consolatory hand on Graham’s back. Graham’s bony frame almost buckled under the pressure.

‘It’s alright for you, Mr blue-eyed Adonis.’

‘My eyes are green, but you’re accurate other than that.’

Graham huffed but then smiled. ‘It is a bit shit. Want to go back to mine and smoke?’

‘Yes!’ yelled Gerry, punching the air and already looking for an exit.

‘Let’s just walk to the other side, make sure we haven’t missed anything, or anyone, then we can head to yours,’ said Luke.

The constant whine of music, the screams from the various rides and the sickly-sweet stench of candyfloss mixed with grease, plus an underlying tang of vomit and piss, were all starting to grate on Luke, but he hated to miss out. Maybe up ahead would be a group of older women, desperate for some action, and he’d be more than happy to oblige. He loved older women. He liked their confidence, the fact that their voices weren’t shrill anymore, that they knew themselves well enough not to have to shout everything they said. But most of all, he loved it when they wanted him.

He'd slept with a fifty-year-old once. That had been the ultimate turn-on for Luke. But it was the woman’s desire for him that had brought him to orgasm multiple times.

‘We could go on a ride,’ said Graham.

Luke surveyed the nearest attractions – a ghost train daubed with zombie faces and skeletons, a Ferris wheel, which appeared to be clunking around at about one mile an hour and a waltzer, beside which a plump girl was currently vomiting up what looked like scrambled eggs and porridge.

‘No thanks. Not a big fairground ride fan.’

‘And yet you wanted to come.’

‘And you were happy to follow.’

Luke instantly regretted this retort. ‘Sorry,’ he said. Graham just shrugged again and continued to slope along.

Black smoke belched from the motor at the back of a mobile food stall, engulfing them all for a second. Graham removed his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his t-shirt. Gerry coughed and then sneezed without attempting to cover his mouth.

‘This place really does suck,’ said Graham.

‘Yeah,’ Luke agreed. ‘It does. I think your flat is calling.’

They almost collided with the man in the red suit, leaning on a long walking cane with a silver top shaped like an animal head – maybe a fox. He was standing in the middle of the walkway between rides and stalls. He was smoking a long, thin cigarette and staring dreamily at the sky, which was now a greyish blue as dusk fell.

The stranger took a lingering lug on his cigarette and blew out a narrow column of smoke. ‘Evening, gentleman.’

He took a step towards them, smiling faintly. Luke noticed he had a musty odour about him, and on closer inspection, the red suit was worn at the elbows and the cuffs were frayed.

Luke gave him a deliberate once-over. ‘Alright?’

‘I’m ecstatic,’ replied the man.

‘Nice one.’ Luke went to pass the stranger, but he sidestepped into his path.

‘Are you boys looking for a little…’ the stranger glanced around like a secret agent from a B-movie. ‘Excitement?’

Luke laughed. ‘Not with you, mate.’

The stranger pulled a face that conveyed repugnance. The grimace revealed teeth that were a similar off-white to his shirt. ‘No, not that kind of excitement. I’m talking real terror that will turn your blood cold.’

Luke laughed. ‘Yeah, mate, I saw the ghost train. Gypsy kids dressed in werewolf masks running around howling — not that scary.’

The stranger raised one eyebrow and looked down his narrow nose at Luke. ‘I am offering an experience beyond your wildest imagination. Intense fear, delivered by some of the most horrifying creatures nature has to offer.’

‘Nice,’ said Luke. ‘Come on, lads.’

‘Don’t you even want a peek?’ The stranger pointed with his cane towards a nearby ride, which Luke couldn’t remember seeing before. It had the general appearance of a ghost train, but the gaudy illustrations daubed across it were genuinely horrific — grotesquely deformed faces and bodies, some conjoined in painful or obscene ways, clowns with jagged fangs and lethal claws for hands, and indefinable creatures with elements of animal and human, glaring with feral eyes at the three friends. And the creatures were all moving, squirming, sometimes reaching their twisted, diseased limbs beyond the surface of the ride’s facade.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Luke stumbled backwards, glanced around the fairground, which was still packed with people, some screaming on rides, others milling between them, shoving candyfloss or toffee apples into their gobs. They all seemed oblivious to the horror ride.

Graham and Gerry stepped back too, both gaping in awe at the mass of abominations.

‘Well?’ asked the man in red, stepping close to Luke. Too close.

‘Get the fuck away from me!’ Luke shoved the stranger hard, and he fell, landing on his back with a loud grunt.

‘Luke! What the fuck, Mate?’ Graham placed a hand on his shoulder.

The man fixed Luke with a hate-filled stare, his eyes now as feral as the creatures depicted on the facade. ‘That was silly,’ he said.

And the fairground was plunged into absolute darkness. And silence.

‘What the fuck?’ It was Graham’s voice, but the darkness was so intense, Luke couldn’t see him.

‘Who turned out the lights?’ This was Gerry.

‘What happened?’ asked Luke. ‘Where are you guys?’

‘Here.’ Luke felt Graham's hand on his back. ‘I can’t see you, but I can smell your Denim body spray.’

The darkness was suddenly filled with a clinking sound, and lights began to flicker on, but only the coloured lights that adorned some of the rides. It was enough for them to be able to see each other, and to see that the fair was completely deserted.

‘Where…’ Luke looked around in disbelief.

‘This is weird,’ said Gerry, also surveying the eerily still rides. ‘Where did everyone go? And when did it get so dark? It’s only 6pm.’

Luke glanced at his watch. The digital display was flashing 18.23, but the seconds weren’t increasing.

‘Have your watches stopped?’ he asked, and both grunted in the affirmative.

‘The doors are open,’ said Graham.

Luke glanced at his friend, who was staring at the horror ride. ‘What’s that?’

But Luke didn’t need a reply; he could see for himself that the large double doors leading into the attraction, which had been closed seconds earlier, were now wide open.

‘I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but we need to get out,’ he said. ‘Where’s the nearest exit?’

Gerry shot off ahead like a dog with a scent. ‘This way!’

Luke and Graham ran to keep up.

‘How does he know where it is?’ asked Luke, already a little breathless.

‘He looks out of it, but he takes stuff in,’ replied Graham. ‘Luke, what is this? What’s going on? Did that guy drug us somehow?’

Luke noticed shapes moving in the shadows between the rides. He thought he heard whispering voices too, and sniffing and groaning, as if they were being tracked. But by what? He thought of the hideous creature depicted on the exterior of the horror ride and of the open doors.

‘I don’t know,’ he finally replied, as all three of them came to a standstill.

‘This is where we came in,’ said Gerry, pointing at a double gate set in a low hedge.

‘Shit…’ said Luke and Graham in unison.

Beyond the gate and the hedge was a swirling, black, impenetrable fog. There was no view of the town in the distance or the fly-over, or anything that suggested the real world. Just blackness.

Gerry turned back to say something, just as a multi-coloured figure leapt from behind a nearby stall and dragged him to the ground. It was one of the clowns from the ride, Luke realised; he recognised the garish purple hair and the yellow and orange costume, stained with blood. For a brief moment, it turned to stare at Luke and Graham with blazing red eyes, baring its razor teeth and gammon-like tongue.

Gerry struggled beneath its weight, screaming for help, but both Luke and Graham were frozen to the spot by shock.

Graham was the first to thaw, calling Gerry’s name and taking two steps towards him, but the clown just grinned and leaned forward, ripping a chunk of flesh from Gerry’s neck with his teeth. A fountain of blood spurted immediately from the wound.

Luke grabbed Graham by his right arm and pulled him away. ‘Come on!’

Graham staggered backwards a couple of steps, then turned and ran with Luke, back amongst the empty rides and stalls, away from the horrific scene of carnage.

‘The clown isn’t the only one,’ said Luke, as they ran, his words coming in jerky breaths.

***

They hid inside a burger van, the door of which had been left open. It stank of old grease. Graham had been sitting in silence for at least five minutes, his head buried in his hands. Luke wished his friend would cry, at least that would be a normal reaction to seeing his cousin killed by a demonic clown.

‘What was the black stuff, do you think?’ asked Luke, keeping his voice low — once or twice he’d heard rustling outside the van.

Graham shrugged. ‘Dunno. But I don’t fancy walking into it.’

‘It might be our only way out. Maybe if we can get through whatever it is, everything will be normal. I mean, maybe Wakely is still there, and we just can’t see it.’

There was definitely something outside the van. Luke could hear a snuffling sound now, like something was trying to sniff them out.

‘Come out, come out wherever you are!’ a voice rose from somewhere in the litter-strewn wilderness outside. It sounded familiar.

‘It’s the bloke in the red suit,’ said Luke.

‘Our Queen is still hungry!” the man in red called, his voice closer now.

‘Queen?’ mumbled Graham. ‘What queen?’

The creature crashed through the shutter of the burger van. The metal buckled and twisted like tin foil. Luke and Graham both crawled towards the door, too shocked to scream. The thing was impossible, a combination of snake and human, a thick scaly lower half coiled beneath the torso and face of a man. The face was a mess of boils and scarring, the mouth slack and twisted. It sat on the burger van counter, the end of its serpent body twitching, a forked tongue darting between its thin, black lips.

Graham reached the door to the van first and tried to force it open without standing. Luke managed to get to his feet, although his legs were weightless and trembling. He tried the door handle but it was jammed by something.

The creature darted towards them, gaping mouth revealing two pin-sharp fangs.

Finally, the handle moved, and the door opened. Luke fell through it, landing on the grass with a thud, winded. He turned back to see Graham’s terrified, pleading face as the creature coiled around him, crushing his body.

‘Graham,’ whined Luke, watching as his friend’s eyes began to bulge and the whites turn red.

There was nothing he could do. Luke crawled, then stood and staggered away. He didn’t look back again, but he heard bones crunching and skin tearing, and the high, wheezing sound of Graham’s last breath.

***

Luke crept through the dark walkways, between shadowy fairground rides. Rats scuttled across his path, sometimes their disgusting bodies scuffing against his ankles. But there were worse things out there than rats.

A rattling, clanking chorus sounded from up ahead. Luke stopped, preparing to run, although he wasn’t sure if he could run anymore. The man in red appeared, strolling towards him, cane silently tapping the muddy ground. Behind him two burly men pulled an open metal cart, that looked like it should be shackled to an engine.

‘You’re honoured,’ said the man in red, stopping just a few feet away. ‘Our queen wants to meet you. I think she likes the look of you, as more than just something to gnaw on, I mean.’

As it was dragged closer, Luke saw that something was spread across the cart. At first, he thought it was a huge animal carcass of some kind. It was the size of a walrus, rolls of flesh pouring over the sides of the vehicle like lava. Then he saw a face amidst the fleshy wreckage, wild eyes and a slack, drawling mouth. Tufts of coarse hair sprouted not just from the head, which was submerged in mounds of fat, but across the whole body of the thing. He deciphered breast, more than two, covered in sores. It’s skin was blistered and bleeding.

The men pulling the cart came to a halt just behind the man in red, and the smell of the abomination engulfed Luke – a putrid, rotting stench. If disease had a smell, this was it.

Luke choked and almost vomited. He stared at the thing, and it seemed to stare back at him, although the eyes were obscured by heavy wrinkled lids, like foreskin.

‘What is it?’ he managed to whisper,

‘Not it,’ said the man in red. ‘This is our beautiful queen. She has feasted on your friends, but she has other appetites too.’

‘Feasted on them?’ the world was spinning now, as the man in red pushed Luke towards the eruption of flesh prostrate upon the carriage, which creaked beneath it weight.

‘She says she’ll let you go if you satisfy her,’ said the man in red.

‘No!” screamed Luke, as the burly men grabbed him and flung him on top of the grotesque mound. He floundered on the leaking folds of skin, which were simultaneously dry and slimy. He closed his eyes, tried not to breathe in the overpowering reek of it, as it undulated beneath him, releasing a long, loud groan of pleasure. Suddenly, his revulsion changed to an opposing emotion. The thing desired him; he knew this as if someone was whispering it in his ear. It was like its essence had entered him and was licking and tasting his insides. It was incredible. Warmth flooded his body as he rode the wave of lust emanating from the grotesque queen. Her physical form was unimportant. Her desire for him was all that mattered. He wanted to please her, to penetrate her. He wanted her to utterly consume him.

When Luke woke, it was almost light. He was lying in the middle of the field where the fair had been, but it was empty now, apart from a murder of crows and dozens of gulls picking through the debris. He sat up, dizzy, confused, and stared around him. The black fog had gone, and he could see the flyover in the distance and the tops of the high-rise blocks on the estate where he lived. Where Graham and Gerry had lived.

‘Where did the fair go?’ he asked the empty field. ‘Where did she go?’

A surge of lustful energy made his entire body stiffen. He needed to find the fair — and find her. Why had she let him go? Why wasn’t he enough for her?

Luke scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards the nearest gate. He’d go home and shower, maybe rest a while, but then he’d start searching. He’d visit every town and every city until he found her. His queen.