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The Edge of Sanity
An unreleased short story from the book:
The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World
Elliot stumbled through the decaying gates of the amusement park, his breath ragged in the humid air. The world outside the park had become a nightmare—nothing but chaos and destruction, the dead roaming freely, the living barely hanging on. The park had been abandoned long before the outbreak, but now, it seemed like a place of refuge—a place where he could disappear, escape from the unrelenting horrors of the world outside.
The rusted iron gates creaked behind him as he stepped into the park. It was eerily quiet. The only sound was the soft crunch of his boots on the gravel path as he made his way deeper into the park. He’d been wandering for hours, searching for food, shelter—anything that would give him some semblance of safety. But this place… it felt wrong.
The towering, decrepit roller coaster loomed in the distance, its metal skeleton rusted and decayed, like a monument to the past. The Ferris wheel beside it, once a symbol of joy, now stood as a ghostly reminder of better days, its seats swaying in the wind with an unnatural creak. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of decay and rot. Yet, in the distance, through the ever-present hum of the wind, he thought he heard something.
A faint, familiar tune.
Carnival music.
It was distant, like it was coming from the heart of the park. He couldn’t help but be drawn toward it, something in the melody tugging at the deepest corners of his mind. It sounded so real. He could almost hear the soft clatter of the carousel, the laughter of children riding in circles, their faces painted with joy.
Elliot shook his head, trying to clear the fogginess that had settled over him. He was exhausted—dehydrated, starving—and his mind was playing tricks on him. That was it. The music was just a hallucination. There was no carnival here. No children.
But still, the music grew louder, clearer, and before he knew it, his legs were carrying him toward the source of the sound.
He walked deeper into the park, the music playing a haunting, looping refrain in his ears. As he moved, he passed decaying food stands, their bright colors faded, now cracked and overgrown with weeds. The ground was littered with broken glass and trash. It felt like a place frozen in time, yet alive with a dark, unsettling presence.
And then, he saw it.
The carousel.
The once-bright horses were now chipped and covered in layers of grime. The painted faces of clowns grinned down at him with unsettling, maniacal smiles. The carousel spun slowly, creaking with every rotation, the faint sound of its music playing from an old, battered speaker.
Elliot’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached the ride. There were no children riding, no parents laughing. There was only the endless, repetitive tune that seemed to echo through his skull. He stood there for a moment, frozen in place, as the carousel spun slowly, the figures moving in a sickening, hypnotic motion.
Just a hallucination, he told himself. Just a trick of the mind.
But his pulse raced, his hands shaking as he reached out, fingers brushing against the cold metal of one of the horses. The chill from the metal shot through him like an electric shock, a wave of cold that sent shivers down his spine. He pulled his hand back quickly, his eyes darting to the shadows around him.
But then he heard it again. The faint sound of children laughing, distant but clear. It came from behind him.
Elliot whirled around, his heart skipping a beat. There, standing in the shadows between the broken stalls, were figures. Children. But they weren’t right. Their faces were pale and gaunt, their eyes wide and empty. They stood still, as if they were waiting for something.
Waiting for him.
The laughter grew louder, more manic, echoing in the park like a chorus of ghostly voices. The children’s hollow eyes locked onto him, their twisted smiles widening.
He couldn’t breathe. The air grew thick, suffocating, as the shadows seemed to stretch toward him. The music, the laughter, the figures—everything was closing in, tightening around him like a noose.
Get out. Get out now.
But his feet refused to move.
The carousel slowed, grinding to a halt, the final notes of the music drifting away, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake. The figures—those children—began to move toward him. Their steps were slow, deliberate, their faces twisted in unnatural expressions of joy.
Elliot turned and ran, stumbling over the cracked pavement, his breath ragged as he pushed himself harder, farther. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had to escape.
But the laughter followed him.
It echoed in his ears, louder and louder, a cacophony of voices that drowned out all other sound. He stumbled down the path, his eyes darting from side to side, but there was nowhere to hide. The park had become a maze, the once familiar attractions now twisted, distorted, their shapes stretching and warping in the shadows.
And the music—oh, God, the music was getting louder.
His heart thudded in his chest as he rounded a corner, finding himself in front of a decrepit funhouse. The distorted mirrors reflected his image in twisted, grotesque ways. His face stretched and bent, distorted into something unrecognizable. But it wasn’t just him in the reflections. The children—those figures—were there too, their eyes gleaming in the glass, their bodies shifting in impossible angles.
They were closing in. He could feel their presence, feel the air growing colder with each passing second.
The doors of the funhouse creaked open, an invitation. But what awaited inside wasn’t safety—it was worse.
The children were there, waiting, standing in the dark, their laughter now deafening. The walls of the funhouse seemed to close in on him, the mirrors distorting everything around him. The laughter became a chorus, their voices layering over each other, each one more guttural, more distorted than the last.
And then, the funhouse mirrors shattered.
The pieces scattered across the floor like shards of glass, and in the reflection of each shard, Elliot saw them—him. He saw himself, but not the way he remembered. His face was twisted, his eyes dark and vacant, his lips curled into a grotesque grin. His reflection in each shard was different, but they all shared one thing: they were all laughing.
The carnival is here. It’s always been here.
His mind cracked. The laughter, the children, the music—it all fused together, pushing him further, faster toward the edge of his sanity. He couldn’t tell where the hallucinations ended and reality began. The walls of the funhouse seemed to bend and shift around him, and the children’s laughter became a sickening crescendo.
Elliot’s body froze, his mind torn between reality and madness. The laughter filled his head, his chest tightening as the darkness closed in, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He was trapped—trapped in the carnival of his own mind.
The last thing he heard, before everything went dark, was the final, deafening note of the carnival music, followed by the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter—twisted, hollow, and forever echoing in his skull.
And in the end, there was no escape.
He had become part of the carnival.
If you enjoyed this short story you will probably like our latest release available now:
The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World
$3.99
Prepare to face the terrifying unknown in The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World, a chilling collection of dark, morbid, and suspense-filled short stories that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
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