Phantasm Carnival Novels & Stories

In the movies I have watched, parties always look fun. Suddenly I can feel that we are being watched or rather I am being watched. And there they are, the Rosemont sisters standing before us. They each have their trays with them and unlike Ella, Phoebe and I they aren't wearing boots but rather matching red bottom heels. Everything about them is matching really. Well except for the color of their hair but the length of it is the same which is very long by the way. It's almost creepy how everyone about them is the same but I guess that's why everyone calls them the Rosemont weirdos.

I noticed couples holding hands, families enjoying cotton candy, kids squealing on mini rides and in the middle of it all, Maya and I danced like we owned the world, pretending responsibilities, drama, and stress didn’t exist outside these carnival grounds. By the time the sun began to lower, painting the sky in shades of magenta and gold, we wandered over to the “Bestie Photo Spot.” Swings, benches, and a polaroid cutout made the perfect backdrop. We posed like we’d rehearsed for a magazine spread laughing too hard to care about how silly we looked. “Charlotte,” Maya said, holding up a polaroid with both of us frozen mid-laugh, “I hope every day could be like today.” I smiled, leaning my he

The carnival came to us as though the world itself had decided to be kind. I remember thinking, as we crossed the final hill and the lights first appeared below, that I had never seen so many colors gathered in one place. Lanterns hung from poles and wagon wheels, glowing amber and rose and soft gold, swaying gently in the evening breeze. Music drifted upward—fiddles and flutes and drums beating a rhythm that felt older than the road beneath our feet. Laughter followed it, bright and unrestrained, the kind of sound that belonged to people who believed themselves unseen.

“Technically, I’m your boss. That’s more of a scandal.” “You look like the thought of a scandal excites you.” “If Amalia were entirely removed from the situation, it would. However, we have to consider Amalia.” “We do.” I looked around the carnival, taking in the scent of funnel cake and popcorn while children ran around screaming. Their parents chased behind them, looking exhausted and carrying collections of cheap toys won from game booths. “What do you want to do first?” Brandon asked, his gaze locking on one of the rides that flipped you upside down and spun around. “That looks like fun.”

But no matter their looks, they actually behaved like teens on spring break. Not only were these Haunters so loud, it was also plain to see some of the alleged evidence of paranormal activity was fake. They had a zillion static cams all over, plus the handheld cameras they carried around, yet most things happened off-camera. Not to mention a great deal of what they got was personal experiences, like being touched, hearing voices no mic captured, catching a glimpse of a shadow right outside the cam field, feeling cold spots their thermal cam didn’t register.

While snacking on her lunch, Maria paid attention to the words her grandfather was saying. "Phantom beats are sinister and vile creatures that feed on human flesh and fears. They are extremely dangerous and are twice as hard to take down compared to regular magical beasts. Luckily, you'll never have to encounter such creatures, since beast-types outnumber phantom-type creatures. But if you ever encounter one... run." The heavy, intense gaze of her grandfather caused a cold chill to sweep over Maria's body.

Missus was slang for wife in Thimberton. "I'm scared, Dr. York!" Fiona was on the verge of tears as she looked at Cassian with fearful eyes. "Don't be afraid. I'm here." Cassian comforted her before questioning Phantom once more. "These villagers never did anything to you. Why did you kill them?" "I killed them? Heavens, no! They're not dead to me. On the contrary, they're my greatest treasures," Phantom declared. "Ever since I was young, I dedicated myself to learning the secrets of corpse animation. It took me ten years to master this ability.

The carnival was worse once you got inside. Not in a bad way exactly. Just overwhelming. Too much light, too much sound, too many smells all fighting for space at once. Fried dough, popcorn, damp grass, hot grease, metal, cheap body spray. Games lined one side in a bright row of scam and desperation. Rides crowded the other, all spinning arms and blinking signs and music playing over music until none of it sounded like a real song anymore. Clair seemed delighted by all of it. She dragged me first toward the stalls, then toward a row of food stands because “looking cute is hard work,” then back toward the rides because she wanted to “see what had the best lighting for photos.”

She paused for a moment before delivering the final blow, "You're not good for anyone." Camille unconsciously held her breath, expecting a witty rejoinder from him, but none came, and they made the rest of their trip in tense silence. * * * * Hours later the carnival was in full swing. The year's FFCC's theme appeared to be "Fairy tale" because every part of the amusement park was filled with characters from children's favorite stories: princesses, dragons, knights—just name it.

“No. But he left a message. One word.” Carl leaned in. “What word?” “Echo.” Something shifted in Carl’s expression. “What?” she asked. He swallowed. “That’s the name of a discontinued Bloodborn project. One they shut down years ago.” “Why?” “Because it didn’t have a singular ability,” he said slowly. “It mimicked others.” Ophelia froze. “You’re saying this Phantom… is an Echo?” “Not just an Echo,” Carl said. “The last one.”