Flower and the Carousel
(Random
2-word prompt- fair, horror)
Flower’s
boots thumped against the wooden slats of the pier, tapping a rhythm that
disturbed the cold night air. The pier
creaked, objecting not just to his hurried footsteps, but to the swish and
swash of the ocean that tickled its wooden toes below him. The arrhythmic tune both interrupted and heightened
the silence, which was deep and sharp, almost dangerous. His
breaths laboured, he was out of shape, trailing vapour from his lips as he
moved.
He was almost there.
The carousel had broken again, a
late callout, and it was up to Flower to repair it before the Queen’s party
tomorrow.
He was alone on the pier, though
the stars kept him company, grains of salt scattered across the dark sky,
reflected in the ocean. He could almost
smell them, the briny pricks of light. Some
were obscured by elongated grey clouds, misshapen tentacles clinching the firmament,
ready to squeeze. And the moon watched
on, emotionless.
Flower shivered.
It ‘d turned chilly, a sudden
change from the warm and dry day, and he’d forgotten his jacket. The cold air crawled up his spine, fingering
the vertebrae, reaching into his head and digging its nails into his amygdala. He was afraid, but he didn’t know why.
He needed to get this done, and
quick.
Flower swallowed his urge to run;
he approached his target.
The carousel seemed strange
tonight; it didn’t look quite like it was supposed to. An uncanny valley of a merry-go-round. The red and white conical roof wasn’t quite
as pointed as it should be, wasn’t quite as symmetrical or uniform. The support poles beneath seemed less
straight, more… bulbous. A distorted
carousel.
No.
He was tired, it was dark, and
his imagination was going wild. Flower
squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force away the inexplicable vision, and
blinked.
Was the carousel the same?
He took a step forward.
Something broke the silence. A loud clicking, syncopated and organic, pierced
the cold night air; it was deep and low, at first, but rose and rose in pitch
and frequency. It creaked like a heavy
door on ancient hinges, a door opening to what horrors, Flower didn’t know. And it stopped, almost as suddenly as it’d
come. It echoed in his bones, and he found
himself frozen to the spot.
He could still hear the ocean,
baying at the shores, biting the struts of the pier. The wood groaned in response. But everything was different. The music of this night was out of tune.
And the salt in the air was
stronger; it tingled the hairs in his nose.
His heart was in his throat, his
breathing shallow, and he realised he was no longer alone… if he’d even been
alone to begin with.
There was someone... something
else here.
Flower’s eyes scanned the
carousel, searching, probing the shadowy mounts trapped within its cage for
something out of place. Seahorses seemed
to rear up in fright. Sharks shrank
away. A whale opened its gigantic maw to
scream. The petrified sea life, once merry
and inviting, wore terrifying faces in the gloom. Hordes of glass eyes watched Flower from
inside the ride.
He gulped down his heart and took
another step.
His boot slapped and splashed
into a shallow puddle that was creeping its way along the decking. It was coming from the carousel.
He stopped again.
A pool of water, as wide as the
merry-go-round, was spreading out from its mechanical carcass. Like blood from a wound. And now that he was a little closer, he realised
the whole thing was wet, soaking, the frightened wooden creatures glossy. Dripping.
He could hear the drips, quiet ticks counting down.
Flower could feel it now, the
presence. Something large and looming. Hidden in the dark. Close.
The smell of the sea was strong
now, pungent. He could taste it.
The carousel moved. Just slightly, and not as it should. The supports warped, and shifted, the roof
shuddered.
And the clicking returned.
Kck kck kck kckckckckckckck.
It vibrated the air. It shook Flower’s organs. He wanted to run… but he couldn’t.
Kck kck kck kckckckckckckck.
Kckckckckckckck.
And then he saw it.
Large eyes stared down hungrily
at Flower with rectangular pupils. For a
moment, they seemed to float in midair above the carousel, but then the ride
transformed. The roof rippled and
morphed, the supporting poles swung up and out, tentacles, and the monster that
was hidden in the night, camouflaged against the red and white carousel,
revealed itself.
Kckckckckckckck kck kck!
Slimy orange skin emerged from
the dark, invisible became visible. Shape
and form rippled into existence, a creature mounted on the roof of the
carousel, undisguised and blatant. It loomed. Its big eyes, peering out from a bulbous and
enormous head, examined Flower, seemingly waiting for something, and he realised
his mouth had fallen open in reply, an empty scream trapped inside his throat. He prayed to survive, but only an eldritch god
consumed his thoughts.
Kraken.
A long and thick tentacle, swathed
in suckers, whipped up and out, barrelled into his chest, it hurt, and Flower
was thrown back. He hit the deck hard,
wind knocked from his lungs, and his body bounced across the wood before scraping
to a halt. He struggled to catch his
breath, winded, broken ribs. Bruised. He wanted to scream, wanted to run. He rolled onto his side, and vomited.
Kck kck kck kck kck kck kck.
The colossal cephalopod was still
there, waiting, and Flower could do nothing but wait for his death.
The creature’s round head throbbed
in and out, eyes narrowed, pupils focussed on him. Its arms slithered on the wet pier, tracing
slow spherical and curved paths, drawing unnatural runes in the puddles.
Flower watched in terror.
And then it screamed, a series of
ear-splitting clicks that breached the night air fast and frantic. Tentacles gripped and clawed at the wooden
creatures of the carousel beneath it, ripping and pulling, tearing and
rending. The ride creaked and cracked in
agony. The kraken cried out.
The end was nigh.
Flower closed his eyes.
Silence.
A loud splash.
Salt lingered in his nose, on his
tongue. The screeching call of the monster
rung in his ear. Its cold presence lingered
along his spine. Everything hurt.
He peeked out into the night, and
saw nothing but the empty carcass of the carousel.
The kraken had stolen away the seahorses
and sharks, and the whale; it had caught its prey, its food, and retreated to
the depths.
Flower was alone on the pier, thankfully
unappetising.
The End.
