User blog:Cackles21/The Freaky Fun-Fair of Frights: Part 2

Hi, guys, here's part two of my fan story. Hope you like it!

Here's the previous part: The Freaky Fun-Fair of Frights: Part 1

The Freaky Fun-Fair of Frights: Part 2
The four kids looked at each other.

“Did those things just talk?” whispered Emily.

“Nah, it’s just special effects!” said Jamie. “Cool gifts!” He reached down and picked up the camera.

“Hey, they’re not ours!” said Louisa. “We can’t just take them!”

“Look!” said Mark. “Read this!”

There was a small wooden board, propped up in front of the cases. There were words on it. They read:

''Greetings, my friends. Congratulations on being the first visitors to the Hall of Horrors. As a reward, I give to you these four gifts. Divide them evenly between your party, and use them wisely. They are the symbols of Halloween… and they are each a representation of evil. You have been warned. ''

Yours, Kyle Cele-Thurston, the new owner and manager of this fun fair, replacing the late Mr Fritz Fredericks.

“See!” said Jamie triumphantly. “They are ours!”

“Good enough for me!” said Mark, and he grabbed the ventriloquist dummy, while Emily snatched the mask, leaving Louisa with the plain can.

“Come on!” she said. “That’s not fair!”

“Snoozers are losers,” shrugged Mark. “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Outside, Mark walked off with the dummy.

“Slappy,” he said out loud. “That’s what you’re called.”

That’s when he noticed the piece of paper in the dummy’s front pocket.

“What’s this?” said Mark, as he unfolded it. “Karru Marri, Odonna Loma, Molonu Karrano?” he read. “I wonder what that means?”

“’You and I are one now,” said a raspy, tinny voice. “In other words… you’re now my slave! Hahahahaha!”

“What the…” said Mark. There was no mistaking it. The dummy had just spoke.

“But… but…”

“Don’t stutter, pal,” sneered the dummy. “I’m sure you’d speak more clearly if I ripped off your tongue. Hahaha!”

“But… you’re just…”

“Don’t you dare!” warned Slappy.

“A dummy.” Mark finished.

“I thought I told you not to,” snarled the dummy. “The name’s Slappy! And I’m here to cause some fun…”

Louisa looked at the plastic can scornfully, then chucked it angrily in a bin. She walked away with an annoyed expression on her face. It was so unfair! Mark’s ventriloquist dummy was probably worth a couple hundred dollars, Jamie’s camera looked rather cool and even Emily’s Halloween mask looked more fun than a small, plain, plastic tub. Suddenly there was a gloopy, squelching sound. Slowly she turned around. The bin was lying on its side. All that remained of the tub was a few torn shreds of plastic. Then she looked at the ground, and almost screamed. A green lump was snaking its way towards her, leaving an ugly, slug-like trail. She desperately stamped on it. The whole thing burst, but it wasn’t destroyed: it had now turned into liquid. Louisa turned and ran for help, leaving the monster blood to devour everything in its path.

Jamie looked around for something interesting to photograph. He looked at a brightly coloured stall with amazing designs, and decided to take a picture of that. He lifted the camera, and FLASH! There was a whir, and the photo printed out. Jamie looked at it. In it, the stall appeared to have been set on fire, shot at, whacked at by a crow-bar, then crushed by a steamroller. In other words, a destroyed, damaged, ugly mess. Suddenly there was a large explosion followed by several smaller ones. In front of Jamie’s eyes, he watched the owner of the stall run away screaming, several seconds before the stall itself collapsed in a blackened, disintegrated pile of rubble. Jamie’s eyes shone as he looked down at the camera that had caused that. “Wicked!”

“Excuse me?”

“Would you like to buy one of these?” asked the owner of the stall.

“No, I’d like to sell one of my own,” said Emily.

She was at a Halloween Mask Stall. She wanted to sell the mask she’d got. On the front of the stall was a banner, reading:

‘S. Carrey’s Halloween masks – Making, buying and selling masks is our occupation!’
“Oh really?” said the owner. “May I see it? What’s your name, by the way?”

“Here,” said Emily, showing him the mask. “My name’s Emily Lloyds.”

“Hmm, interesting mask. May I ask where you got it?” said the man, as he inspected the Haunted Mask. “My name is Salazar Carrey.”

“I… found it.”

“I see. Very interesting mask. Very interesting, indeed…” Carrey squeezed the side of the mask. “Rather similar to these other masks I have to sell.” He gestured to a row of masks. There was about ten of them – twelve, at most – and they were all set a little higher than the others, on a more expensive display.

“A man sold them to me,” said Carrey. “A strange man, middle-aged I think, with a very peculiar face. They’re must have been about fifteen at least when he sold them – more like gave, I bought them for practically nothing – but since then I must have sold, traded, thrown away a few. He told me they were named ‘The Unloved’, and all of them had strange powers.”

He led Emily to the very front of the stall.

“This is the Mask of Ancient Decay,” he said, pointing to an unpleasant, wrinkled, green mask that was covered in tiny, black spiders, kind of resembling the face of an ugly, old man. “Known to some as the Old Man Mask. It’s power is to make you feel more and more tired, older, much older, until you are weak, useless, pathetic, in a state worse than death. It’s horrid, but it’s said to be true.”

“Ugh, gross!” said Emily. “No way do I want to be an old man!”

The owner shrugged, then pointed at a lime-green mask, with a bulging forehead, long stringy yellow hair, and what looked like a rat perched in the middle.

“This is the Withered Face,” he said gravely. “Also known as the Ratty Hair Mask. It attaches to you, and soon replaces your real face! After that, anyone’s face you look at also becomes withered. Luckily it is only temporary – after a while the face just falls off and becomes a mask of its own! Do you think you’d buy that?”

“Never! I wouldn’t want my face to be withered for a couple of minutes, let alone weeks on end. Any others?”

“How about this?” he pointed at another mask, this one the face of a snarling wolf. Its teeth were pointed and yellow, and there were two complete rows of them, along with a black, blood-stained nose. “The Wolf Mask turns even the most sensible of people into a snarling, Neanderthal-like, savage.”

“I think I’m done here.” Emily admitted. “How much will give for my mask?”

“That depends, little girl,” said Carrey. “We have to make sure it’s in perfect condition. Why don’t you try it on?”

Continued next time...
Hope you liked this! If you enjoyed this, comment! If you want to do fan art for the characters or covers, please do! Goodbye!