Amber Dan-Dwayne Spencer (romantic books to read .txt) 📖

it. This place is creepy. But what I don’t get is, why do we need to be here?”

“We’re here to talk to a fallen angel.”

“I’ve got to wake Jimmy and Roger. They have to see this.” I started to shake Jimmy, but Flower stopped me.

“I know they came along, but I think it would be best if only you and I went in. It’s not without danger.” She walked with me to the end of the meadow where a hill hid whatever lay beyond it.

After seeing how Jimmy reacted to something as simple as gifting, I can’t imagine how he would act if he knew there was an angel here. “You’re right. We should let him sleep,” I replied.

“Don’t go”, said Mr. Dark. I ignored him and went on with Flower’s conversation.

“You’re kidding me. A real angel…A fallen angel is here at the carnival? Why would he stick around after he made the deal with Mr. Cumberland?”

“Because he found love. You see, he fell in love with Cumberland’s daughter. Knowing his curse would trap her here, he bound himself to this place. But God surprised him with something he least expected. His curse on the carnival didn’t touch his lover. She walked away unharmed.”

“What? How did she do that? I mean, everyone else became ghosts, and she just walked away.”

“She was special—she was gifted. For years, her father had exploited her gift to feed his greed. But after the angel spoke the curse, she walked away free of her father and the oppressive angel.”

“So, people with gifts aren’t affected by curses?”

“You don’t know. Just because it happened once you can’t count on it happening again.” Mr. Dark’s voice trembled. “Flower says this girl wasn’t affected, but do you really want to take that chance?”

“That’s what I gathered from the story, but, Arland, I don’t want to test the theory today. We must leave the carnival before the clock strikes on the hour.”

“Clock? What clock?” I looked around and still saw only the meadow.

“You will see. Just remember, anyone who is on the carnival grounds when the clock strikes is also cursed and will spend eternity there in The Cumberland Circus of the Bizarre.”

“Don’t go over that hill. It’s not safe,” Mr. Dark insisted.

I nodded. Maybe Mr. Dark was right. Uncertainty filled me with despair. Was facing a cursed carnival worth talking to an angel? I inhaled and found the courage to follow Flower over the hill.

“There will be hell to pay for this. Yes, indeed—when this little adventure of yours blows up in your face, remember what I said,” Mr. Dark uttered the words before he shrieked and his dark form fled, moving from shadow to shadow for cover.

I gritted my teeth and said, “Keep quiet.”

Flower heard me and gave me a sideways glance, “You’re not talking to me are you?” It was like she understood.

I answered as politely as I could, “No ma’am. I’m not.”

“You have a familiar, don’t you?” she enquired with more worry on her face than I had seen before.

“I don’t know what a familiar is. But there’s this shadow I call Mr. Dark. No one but me can see him, and sometimes he tells me things.” I swallowed hard. “He doesn’t want me to go to the carnival. He says it’s not safe.”

“I’ve heard of familiars, of course, but I’m not very knowledgeable on the subject. Later, we’ll sit down with a cup of hot cocoa and discuss what I know, but for now—he’s right. It isn’t safe. Promise me you will stay with me at all times.”

“I promise.” Those have been the famous last words for so many people. I just wasn’t sure if they would be mine.

We walked up the hill’s steep incline. Apprehension balled in my stomach, and when we topped the hill, the carnival materialized before our eyes. What only second before was a dry patch of barren ground, full of dead weeds, cactus, and discarded trash, took shape and became a spectacular sight. Colorful tents, placards, lively music, and the unmistakable smell of buttered popcorn filled my senses.

We walked a distance along the wrought-iron fence until we reached a ticket booth. From what I could see as I peered through the fence—it was all extraordinary. I wasn’t expecting a ghostly carnival to be so real, and so beautiful. A multitude of people crowded around every attraction, and without exception, they sounded happy—laughing and talking. Nothing about what I saw warned of eternal damnation.

Flower went to the ticket booth, which stood beside an arched gate. The banner above the arch read: The Cumberland Circus of the Bizarre. The wrought-iron gates were open, and the fence attached to it appeared to go on as far as I could see. Beyond the arched gate, a cobblestone walkway beckoned me to enter. I could feel it drawing, pulling me forward like steel to a magnet. I sensed it, this carnival desired me to enter.

Flower called out, “Stay in view of the ticket booth until I get our tickets. Do not wander off.”

“Sure thing,” I replied as I stepped through the arch and onto the stone path. It led past a couple of popcorn vendors and one advertising something called Fairy Floss, a pink puff on a stick looking suspiciously like cotton candy.

The cobblestones continued past a series of frames made of metal piping containing large illustrated canvases. These oversized placards promoting the carnival’s biggest crowd-pleasing features were strapped into the frames with stout cords. Gigantic painted faces of clowns and roaring lions glared down at me. Beyond the portable billboards, the walkway encircled the entrance’s principal attraction—a grand Victorian carousel.

Oddly dressed people crowded around it, all talking and laughing hollow-sounding hoots, chuckles, and chortles. Some others rode the ornately carved horses with bouquets on each harness. Satin ribbon adorned a variety of brass