The Carnival of Souls at Huberts Grove

Photo by Kyle Johnson on Unsplash

The Carnival of souls at Huberts Grove

By

Sean Mcbride

           “Hello. I’m Vincent Price, and you’re invited to my carnival this evening. So far, the ghosts have only murdered seven people. So won’t you come to make it 8? You’ll find creatures beyond imagination, murderers, ghouls, vampires, and other…blood sucking things. You’d better hurry, your ticket…expires…at midnight.  Your Carnival is at Hubert’s Grove.”

           Oscar pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it as if its screen would divulge more information.  

           The call’s number was (000)000-0000, so Oscar didn’t answer. He turned to Olivia.

           “What is it, babe?”

           “I just go this peculiar call,” he held the phone out to her. “Listen to the message.” He half thought it was a joke. Olivia loved that horror shit. Oscar didn’t have a clue who Vincent Price was, but he was sure Olivia would. 

Besides that, every year at Halloween, she begged Oscar to take her to Hubert’s Grove. It was one of those places where they build a haunted maze in the woods and then charge a crazy admission price to go in and have idiots in costumes jump out at you.  

           He realized he made a mistake handing the phone over a second before he did it.

           “OH MY GOD, WE HAVE TO GO!” Olivia squealed when she finished the message.

“Babe…” Oscar started.

“No! That was really Vincent Price’s voice! They must have spliced it from old movies!”

“Babe…” Oscar repeated.

She looked at him, then firmly planted a fist on her hip. 

“You wanna get lucky tonight? You’re taking me.”

A few minutes later, they were in the car on the way to Hubert’s Grove.

The marquee said “Carnival of Souls,” and they parked right in front of it. The carnival was desolate and run down. There were no people about, and the tarp which encompassed the tents was stained and torn. 

Dust blew on a hidden zephyr through the central concourse where a solo ticket booth stood. Inside was an old mechanical Zoltar that had an abyssal stare and teeth that were just a little too white.

The full moon was the only illumination in the carnival, but it was enough to show through the park. Directly on the other side of the carnival was an old house of horrors dark ride with the title “The Tingler” and a large cutout of Vincent Price’s head under the arched name.

“Oh my God, this is spectacular!” Olivia screamed and ran to the Zoltar ticket booth.

“For access to the carnival, please place your tickets in the slot below,” the mechanical soothsayer intoned.

“Ah, damn babe, I don’t know about this,” Oscar said. 

“This thing ‘ain’t looking like it’s been running for years.”

“Oh, stop it, you big baby! I saw the squash festival here last week,” Olivia came back at him.

Oscar looked up to the rusty ferris wheel. “That enough time to build all this stuff?”

           “Totally! They build that shit in a few hours. Where are the tickets?” She asked.

           “Serious? You were there, we ‘ain’t got no tickets. We just got that phone call.”

           A bright flash came from Zoltar’s eyes that briefly blinded them before Vincent Price’s dulcet tones echoed through its voice box.

           “Welcome to your carnival. We accept your ticket,” The voice paused, and a loud boom echoed over the grounds, followed by a shower of sparks. There was a soft baby’s cry, and the rides burst to life. Oscar was sure he could still hear the baby’s lament behind the screeching of rusted gears, but he was distracted by the voice coming from the ticket Booth.

           “Your first tickets are for “The Tingler,” so named because of the parasite in your spine that gives you tingles every time you’re frightened. If you can survive The Tingler, you will receive your ticket to the next attraction at the conclusion.”

           Two tickets popped out of a metal disc at waist height on the Ticket Booth. The voice laughed a terrifying and familiar guffaw before it faded into ambiance of grinding gears and soft baby cry.

           “This is so fucking cool,” Olivia said, already running toward the haunted house dark ride.

           Oscar looked down at his arms and could see goose flesh and hair standing on end.

           “Hold up!” He said, running after her.

           The Tingler had a long ramp with switchbacks leading up to the entrance, where a track carried cars barely large enough for two people to sit in. Olivia jumped in one of the vehicles and slid to the side, gently slapping the seat next to her, beckoning Oscar to join her. Her smile hit each ear. He squeezed in and lowered the safety bar to cover their laps.

           “The more scared you are, the larger the Tingler grows,” a voice projected from the car’s speakers behind their head.

           The car sped up, then jerkily slowed and slammed a 90 degree turn into the attraction, snapping their heads to the side. 

Oscar let out a little “uh” as they were suddenly faced with a realistic wax figure on a hydraulic piston shooting out at their car. With a hiss, the piston moved the figure away from the car, revealing how fake the set up was. It was dark inside the first room, which looked like a laboratory with faint, glowing red lights. There were dollar store props, including rubber bats hanging from the ceiling with twine. 

There were other wax figurines in the room as well, all in various poses of horror but none of them moving. On what looked to be an operating table was a wax figure working on what looked to be a giant rubber centipede.

           “Your first experience of the Tingler is past! 

Don’t let it get too strong, or it could take over!” Vincent Price’s voice echoed in their ears.

           The car moved slowly through the room before snapping again to the left. A soundtrack of a scream blasted from the speakers behind their heads, and the wax figure of a woman with long nails and sharp teeth jumped out at them. Oscar jumped, but Olivia squealed in delight. 

The hiss sounded, and the hydraulics brought the wax doll back into the shadows.

           The next scene had even worse décor. There were more wax dolls in a set that looked like a scientist fighting off vampire, but the supposed house they were in was just canvas that covered the walls with a painted scene and a jarring green lightbulb that lit the room from the ceiling. Vampires were painted on the canvas to look like they were swarming the painted windows, and there was a Paper Mache dog attached to a metal pole moving back and forth as though it was attacking one of the vampires. The wax figures looked reasonably realistic, though the running wax was evident. Everything else looked like it was produced for an eight-year old’s diorama.

           “Oh, come on! This is…ooof!” Oscar started as the car made another sharp turn.

           This time he closed his eyes to not get the jump scare, but the volume of the scream in the speaker system still made him jump.

           This room was another painted canvas; however, this one depicted a large Victorian mansion, a wax figure with a knife attached to a pneumatic track in the center of the room. It was gliding back and forth; every time it moved forward, it impaled another wax figure.

           “The only way to stop the Tingler from taking over,” the voice echoed behind their heads again, “is to kill the host!”

           Oscar rolled his eyes and searched for more fake decorations when he saw something strange. The wax figure getting stabbed was missing one of its eyes, and beneath the wax, veneer was a real eye, open wide and staring at him. Olivia was laughing beside him.

           “Yo, what the fuck?” He said as the car jerked them around another corner.

           Another figure jumped out at them, but this one had a knife in its hand. The knife slid into his shoulder, and his cry of pain echoed over the speaker’s tinny voice.

           With a hydraulic hiss, the wax figure moved backward. As it did, the figure’s head slumped.

           “Oscar?” Olivia wasn’t laughing anymore.

           The figure that jumped out at them wasn’t wax. 

It was a dead woman with her hands tied together around the knife. She had enough wax coating her that it made her body slightly stiff.

           The room they entered was entirely metal illuminated by a red light. A figure hunched over a large cauldron in the corner of the room, they were facing away from them, but it was tall and gaunt and absolutely alive.

           “The Tingler gets stronger! We must kill its source before it gets out of control!” 

The voice echoed behind them. 

A click, a grinding noise came from the speakers as if a record had completed and continued to spin.

           “Oscar?” Fear laced Olivia’s voice.

           Oscar tried to turn to see what made the noise and felt a needle slide into the back of his neck.

           “Oww!” Olivia wailed.

           Immediately Oscar’s vision blurred.

           The figure leaning over the cauldron turned around. 

It was wearing a melting wax mask, and underneath, Oscar thought he saw burnt skin.

           “Welcome to your carnival,” the figure said. “Where you’ll be an attraction for all eternity.”  

           The figure pulled a lever, and the last thing Oscar saw was a body falling from the ceiling into the cauldron of wax.

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