Let Me Tell You An Entire Story Based On The Carnival Dream From Last Night, (Here's A Link In Case You Forgot About It Here)
Title: The Saddest Carnival That I Have Ever Seen
I don’t remember how I got there—dream logic, I guess. One moment I was walking through a foggy parking lot by the old, mostly-abandoned mall, and the next, I was standing in front of a crooked wooden sign that read, in flaking red paint: “Fun 4 All Karnival!!!”
The sign swayed slightly in the breeze. I blinked. Was that an extra "K" in “Karnival”?
The carnival itself was sprawled far beyond the mall’s parking lot, dumped haphazardly in an open gravel field surrounded by nothing but distant trees and a weird buzzing sound. It looked like someone had built it using the rejects of other carnivals. The smell of burnt corn syrup and something vaguely fried hung in the air like a cloud of disappointment.
Right near the entrance, a makeshift stage had been set up using wooden pallets. On it stood Gretel—yes, the Gretel from Hamster and Gretel—only she wasn’t zapping aliens or fighting crime. No, dream-Gretel wore a long purple dress and played an off-tune violin with dramatic flair, even though only three people were watching. The violin screeched like a cat stuck in a microwave, and every now and then she'd yell, “Feel the sorrow!” before striking another string like she was fencing with ghosts. Nobody clapped. Not even the guy selling glowing cotton candy sticks that weren’t glowing.
Flowers lined the stage in plastic pots, but they weren’t real. Not even fake nice. They looked like they’d been printed on a paper towel and stapled to green pipe cleaners.
Past the stage was the food court—or more like, the food corner. Three booths: one selling cold funnel cakes shaped like shoes, one offering "Nacho Burgers" (a horror I won’t describe), and one that served lemonade in dirty jars with the label “Not Real Lemon!” proudly scribbled on the front in crayon. A man in a greasy hotdog hat stood nearby and wept softly into his chili.
There were only two rides: a rusted roller coaster that went in a small figure-eight and made sobbing noises as it moved, and a bumper car arena where half the cars didn’t even turn. One was just a parked golf cart with a “Vroom” sign taped to it. A kid tried to ram someone and instead just slowly rolled into a fence while sad circus music played on loop.
Near the center of the carnival, I found the Cookie Eating Contest, which sounded fun until I got closer. The cookies were wet. Like, actually wet. No one knew why. They had that weird “left in the rain” look, but it hadn’t rained. A contestant stood up halfway through and screamed, “These taste like despair!” and ran off into the night. No one followed.
The “Kiff Mascot” waddled up to me—a misshapen squirrel suit with weirdly long legs. It waved at me with foam paws, but the zipper was open in the back, clearly revealing a sweaty kid who whispered, “I can’t get out. I’ve been in here for three days.” Before I could respond, the “Candle Fox” mascot appeared… except it wasn’t a mascot. It was literally just a ratty sock puppet held up by a shaking hand through a cardboard box. It blinked once—no one knew how—and said in a gravely voice: "Join the magic..."
The prize booth looked promising until I saw the stuffed animals up close. Teddy bears with no stuffing. Literally just limp fabric skins dangling like haunted laundry. A sign said, “WIN BIG!” but the only prize was a deflated giraffe head sewn to a pool noodle.
Then I saw the Petting Zoo.
The sign read “Pet the Anim—als” with the “S” in “Animals” violently crossed out in Sharpie. I approached cautiously. Inside the pen were no animals. Not one. Just a few hay bales and a mop. A kid tried to pet the mop while his mom clapped encouragingly.
I wandered the grounds for what felt like hours, trapped in this surreal nightmare, watching Gretel’s violin cry out one final squeaky note as the sun began to set. She curtsied and a single tumbleweed rolled past.
That’s when I woke up, heart pounding, the faint taste of wet cookie still in my mouth.
I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, whispering:
“That was the saddest carnival I have ever seen.”
And I swear, I could still hear the violin playing…
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