The title of the contest reminded me of Ray Bradbury's short story collection, October Country, which in turn provided the inspiration for for my story. 

Carnival of Evil
J. M. Strother

The circus was coming! Lillian begged her father to let her go. He flat out refused. When she argued, he backhanded her so hard she saw stars. She cried herself to sleep that night. Father never hit her when Mother was alive.

The weekend and two missed days of school allowed the bruising to subside. By Wednesday all the kids talked about was the coming circus. Lillian still wanted to go, but dared not ask again.

The circus arrived on Thursday, at McNeally's farm. It opened at noon, on Friday. Unsurprisingly, many of Lillian's eighth grade classmates missed school that afternoon. Miss Johnson vowed they would pay dearly via detention, come Monday. She praised all those present for having sense enough to stay away from those “freaks and geeks” at McNeally's place.

Dinner was ready when Father came home. Pork chops, grits, and gravy. He grumbled about the lumpy gravy, but otherwise they ate in silence. After dinner he retreated to the radio, and beer, while Lillian did the dishes. By the time she crept upstairs he was asleep in the dim glow of the Phillips radio, while the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra, Mother's old favorite, played on.

When Father turned in, shortly after nine, Lillian slipped out of bed. She put on a jacket and climbed out the window. From the porch roof it was easy to make good her escape.

The circus closed at midnight. She had to hurry. With only ten cents she would not be able to see much. She was told the animal cages were in plain sight, therefore free for the viewing. She could see the tiger, lion, and boa constrictor. That would be something. Then maybe the two-headed man and some cotton candy, at a nickel each. She imagined sneaking into the big top to watch the trapeze.

At McNeally's, however, doubt crept in. In Burnsville everyone knows everyone. What if someone told Father? She stood at the edge of the pines, held back by her own fear.

Sounds and lights in the field below beckoned. She heard a woman scream, followed by raucous laughter. She could hear the calls of hawkers entreating people to part with their money for a once in a lifetime chance to see the truly amazing. Then she heard an amplified voice announce the death-defying feats of the Amazing Curkovic Brothers. Her desire to see the high wire overcame her fear of discovery. Resolved, she stepped away from the trees.

Still, she was careful, flitting from the performer's trailers to the back side of the animal cages. The acrid smell of urine filled her nose. She dashed across the straw to the side of the midway. The first booth was a ring-toss game. It held a crowd. She slipped to the back side of the booth and worked her way down the line.

Between the fortune teller and the Boiling Man, Lillian took the chance, and dashed across the open lane. She found herself standing next to the entrance to the Carnival of Evil. From inside she heard muffled cries of agony and eerie music. About to dash on, she noticed the fortune teller looking at her from across the way. The woman caught, and held, her gaze.

After a moment the fortune teller shook her head, sadly, then shot a warning glance down the midway. Lillian looked, and to her horror, saw Sheriff Green perusing the crowd. He stood between her and the big top. She looked back to the fortune teller, in near panic. The fortune teller gave her a little shooing sign with her hand, and nodded to the gaping maw of the Carnival of Evil. The ticket huckster was not at his station. Without hesitation Lillian slipped inside.

She stepped across the Gates of Hell, an iron grate over glowing coals. Writhing arms reached for her ankles. She stifled a scream and hurried on.  The corridor grew darker. Agonized moans came from the shadows. A light suddenly blazed on her right. A guillotine dropped its deadly blade towards the neck of a screaming woman. Just before it made contact the lights went out. There was a sickening smack, and the scream died abruptly. Lillian ran for her life.

She bumped into something firm, but pliable. A dim green light came on, and she looked up to into a mummified face. As she caught her breath the face opened its eyes and grinned at her. Close behind someone let out a manic laugh. She ran again, heart pounding.

Then came the hall of mirrors. Her own horribly distorted face mocked her as she groped through. The mirrors seemed to have eyes. Half way through she noticed the mummified man in the reflections, behind her. Her fear rose to abject terror.

She fought her way through the Fingers of Death, a completely darkened chamber where thousands of fingers groped for her face. Then, to her utter surprise and relief, she burst out into the October night. She stooped, to catch her breath. Looking back, she saw the Fingers of Death were felt streamers, hung from the ceiling. She was mortified.

Then she saw him.

The mummified man.

He emerged from the streamers, dead eyes fixed on her. With a yelp of fear, she bolted for the woods. He followed.

Every time she stopped to rest, he reappeared. She screamed, and ran again. She became disoriented under the darkened pines. Could not seem to find Darnell's Garage; the edge of town. Safety.

She heard a car passing on Route 72. She ran towards the sound, around a big pine. Right into the mummified man.

He caught her in an iron grip. She tried to scream. He put his hand over her heart, and no scream came out. She looked into his eyes as she felt her life force draining – heart to hand.

At the inquest, four days after the circus left town, the coroner announced his judgement. Lillian May Brown died of a heart attack.

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1000 words.