Haunted Circus
The Haunted Circus
Part circus and part carnival, the Haunted Circus is unlike anything you have seen before. The main tent resembles a Gothic cathedral. The steeple is incredibly tall and spires, the rest of the tent is canvas painted to look like stone and brick, and the "windows" are painted to resemble stain glass. The scenes in the "glass" look Biblical, but each one has something slightly wrong in it, something corrupted. The steeple is not canvas, it is made of aged, weathered wood that almost looks like stone, the only tell-tale symbol it is not a permanent structure are the guy-lines, tethering it to the ground. Many other canvas tents surround the main tent, with most of the games under tents as well in deference to the rainy weather of Crescent City.
There are rides. Rickety, rust-bucket rides that somehow defy physics and remain in one piece while in use. Unfortunately, only those who have built in cover (Like the Carousel or Tea Cup Ride) or can fit under a tent are in use during rainy nights. The dilapidated condition of the rides add to the thrill attached to each one. The threats being that the ride may suddenly fall apart.. and that you might catch tetanus.
The entire area is ringed in glaring, often times flickering or just plain burned out simple light-bulbs on wires that look ancient, the wire covers almost worn through or are totally absent in places. The walkways are either made of grass or dirt, none are thought out or pre-planned, the grass becoming trampled down as attendees walk through, the mud sucking shoes off and making those foolish enough to wear heels wish they hadn't- sprained ankles hurt, but not as much as losing your Jimmy Choo in a three foot deep quagmire of mud.
Throughout the entire circus are ticket booths- some actually manned from to time. Carnies stand post at each ride- or just about every ride. Most of the time. Occasionally. Sometimes the rides just seem to operate automatically- but those machines never stop to take on any riders, they simply run screeching, and covered in rust, forever. The grinding noise of gears, the clunking of clutches, the high-pitched whine of brakes keep time with the discordant cacophony of tinkering calliope music and disjointed organ notes that permeate the air - air which at night, only holds the faintest scent of popcorn, peanuts and cotton candy. The traditional carnival fare is not available after dark.
There are nightly shows being held in the main tent. The shows feature the animal tamers, high wire acts and the strongman as well as the clowns and other miscellaneous acts. In other tents you will find the conjurers and seers, the fortune tellers and the perhaps other surprises. In the back of the carnival sits a lone caravan. It is painted red with gold accents and signs state that it is the caravan of Madame Miri, The Seer Queen of Gypsies. In there you can have your fortunes read, your past analyzed, your current state of being explained. Enter at your own risk.
Another tent, this one a garish pink and white sits off by itself as well. A faded wooden signs proclaims it is "The Garden of Fleshly Delights." From inside comes the sound of tinny old-time jazz music, the scratches and hisses from the LP records clear and add a touch of nostalgia. Inside the tent is lit by deep red lights and there are no chairs but there is a stage from which tattered red curtains hang. Twice a night several women of all shapes and sizes in various states of undress take the stage to dance "The Hootch." None of them are very good, none of them are very beautiful, but each night their forbidden allure attracts dozens of men… and sometimes women… to the dark, garish tent.
Overall, the atmosphere and feeling of the setting is terrifically eerie. It is at once festive and somber. Happy and sad. Things illuminated, things obfuscated. You can feel yourself being watched. You can feel yourself become anxious as shadows and that low-hanging fog moves about. Something is not right. You know it. A flicker out of the corner of your eye. A sensation of something touching your neck, rustling your hair, tugging your coat.
Type
Circus
Parent Location
Owner
Ruling/Owning Rank
