15

The carnival had always been a place of wonder and excitement, but there was something off about this particular carnival. As a group of friends walked through the crowded midway, they could feel a sense of unease settle over them.

As they approached the fortune-teller's tent, they saw a figure standing in the shadows. It was an old woman, her eyes staring blankly ahead. She beckoned to them, and they approached cautiously.

The old woman took their hands and read their fortunes, telling them of things that would happen in the future. But as they were about to leave, she grabbed one of them by the arm and whispered in a voice that was not her own.

"You have been chosen," she said. "The darkness is coming, and it needs a sacrifice."

The group tried to run, but it was too late. The carnival was alive with malevolent spirits, and they were closing in fast. They could hear the sound of laughter in the distance, but it was not the laughter of joy or amusement. It was the laughter of madness and despair.

As they ran through the carnival, they saw the spirits emerging from the shadows. They were twisted and grotesque, their eyes filled with a malevolent light. They were the spirits of the damned, the souls of those who had been trapped in the carnival for eternity.

The group tried to fight back, but they were no match for the spirits. They watched in horror as their friends were dragged into the darkness, their screams echoing through the carnival.

The group that survived never spoke of that night again. They knew that the carnival was not a place of wonder and excitement, but a place of darkness and death, a place where the spirits of the dead still roamed free.