Ethan Ward clutched his father’s journal like it was a lifeline, its leather cover worn smooth under his thumb. The words The Haven’s alive. It chooses who hears burned in his mind, looping with the radio’s latest cryptic jab—“The carousel spins for the lost. Find them, Ethan.” He stood in the main hall of The Haunted Haven, flashlight beam cutting through the dusk-lit gloom, Sophie Bennett at his side. The ghost house felt heavier tonight, the air thick with something he couldn’t name—anticipation, maybe, or dread.
Sophie adjusted her flashlight, its light bouncing off the fake skeletons and dusty velvet ropes. “Carousel, huh?” she said, her voice steady despite the late hour. “Guess we’re heading outside. Unless this place has a secret merry-go-round stashed in the basement.”
Ethan managed a dry smile. “Wouldn’t put it past it. This dump’s full of surprises.” He tucked the journal into his back pocket, the locket and key already weighing down his jacket. “Let’s go. Sooner we figure this out, sooner we get some answers.”
They stepped out through the front door, the evening chill biting at their skin as Hopeville faded into twilight. The abandoned Hope Haven Amusement Park stretched before them, a graveyard of rusted rides and shattered dreams. Ethan led the way past the toppled popcorn stand, his boots crunching on gravel, until the carousel came into view. It was a sad wreck—chipped horses frozen mid-gallop, paint peeling from their hollow eyes, the canopy sagging like a deflated lung. The radio’s hum echoed in his head, and he swore he heard a faint creak from the platform, though the wind was still.
Sophie whistled low. “Cheery spot. Think it’s gonna start spinning on its own?”
“Don’t jinx it,” Ethan said, climbing onto the platform. The wood groaned under his weight, and he swept his flashlight across the horses. Nothing moved, but the shadows seemed deeper here, pooling around the base like spilled ink. He pulled the locket from his pocket, flipping it open to the blurry photo. “Find them,” he muttered. “Who’s ‘them’?”
Before Sophie could answer, a laugh—high, brittle, and wrong—cut through the silence. Ethan spun, flashlight darting, but the park was empty. The sound came again, sharper, from the carousel’s center. He zeroed in on a horse near the core—a black stallion with a cracked mane, its painted eyes glinting in the beam. “You hear that?” he asked, voice low.
“Yeah,” Sophie whispered, stepping closer. “Sounds like—”
The horse’s head twitched. Ethan stumbled back, nearly dropping the flashlight, as the laugh erupted again, loud and jagged. The stallion’s wooden jaw creaked open, and a voice spilled out—not the radio’s, but something colder, older. “They’re lost,” it hissed, “and you’re too late.”
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“What the hell—” Sophie started, but Ethan was already moving, adrenaline overriding his shock. He grabbed the horse’s reins—cold, slick, not wood—and yanked. The platform shuddered, and the carousel jolted to life, spinning slowly at first, then faster, the horses bobbing in a grotesque dance. The laughter swelled, echoing from every corner, and shadows flickered between the poles—vague shapes, human but not, darting just out of sight.
“Ethan!” Sophie shouted, clinging to a white mare as the speed picked up. “Make it stop!”
“Working on it!” He gripped the stallion, searching for anything—a switch, a clue—but the locket slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. It spun with the carousel, sliding toward the edge, and Ethan lunged for it, the world blurring around him. His fingers closed around the metal just as a new voice cut through the chaos—soft, sharp, and furious.
“Enough!”
The carousel screeched to a halt, throwing Ethan against a pole. Sophie yelped, tumbling into a painted pony, and the laughter died, replaced by an eerie stillness. Ethan scrambled up, flashlight swinging, and froze. A figure stood at the platform’s edge—a woman, pale and sharp-edged, her crimson dress vivid against the decay. Her dark hair spilled loose, and her eyes—those eyes—were the same ones from the manor portrait, piercing and alive.
“Who are you?” Ethan demanded, voice rough. He stepped forward, shielding Sophie, who’d pulled herself upright, wide-eyed but silent.
The woman’s gaze locked on him, cold and unyielding. “You don’t belong here,” she said, her voice a whisper that carried like a shout. “Stop this. Before it takes you too.”
“Takes me?” Ethan’s grip tightened on the locket. “What’s ‘it’? And who’s lost? My parents? Tell me!”
She didn’t answer, her form flickering like a bad signal. The carousel creaked again, and the stallion’s jaw snapped shut, the shadows retreating. “Leave,” she warned, stepping back into the dark. “Or you’ll hear more than whispers.”
“Wait!” Ethan lunged, but she was gone, vanishing into the night like smoke. The platform stilled, the air lightening, and he stood there, chest heaving, the locket warm in his hand.
Sophie climbed down, brushing dirt off her jeans. “Okay,” she said, breathless, “that was… a lot. Friend of yours?”
“No clue,” Ethan said, staring where the woman had been. “But she’s tied to this.” He held up the locket, then glanced at the journal in his pocket. “And I’m betting she knows what happened to them.”
“Then we’re not stopping,” Sophie said, a spark in her eyes despite the shake in her voice. “Right?”
Ethan nodded, jaw tight. “Right.” The radio crackled faintly from inside the Haven, a low hum that felt like a taunt. He didn’t know who—or what—that woman was, but she’d just made this personal. And he wasn’t backing down, not with his parents’ ghosts riding the line.