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The first time I saw The Carnivale I thought it a strange place. An odd collection of fellows all gathered to entertain, and honestly I had been more frightened than not. That fortune teller had seemed almost normal. Until she began that reading, anyway. It had been eerie. You know what it’s like when a shiver runs down your spine? Yeah. That sort of eerie.

It’s funny. I remember the feeling of the reading gave me more than the words. I barely remember those, now. But the feeling…that I can’t forget. Foreboding, a sinking in my gut, something that screamed at my mind and my legs to run away as fast as possible. Honestly, I don’t know why I ignored it. Humph. Maybe I do. I think part of me knew then I couldn’t outrun what was coming.

I digress. You asked to hear my story. Not my musings. She had mentioned a change. I had accepted that, as life is always changing. But I had no idea how drastic a change she had meant.

As I was leaving The Carnivale that night I noticed how cold it had gotten. The temperature had dropped quickly, clouds had moved in, covering the half-full moon. Quietly, it had begun to snow. Heavy, thick, wet snow, large flakes that fell with purpose from the sky; meaning to cover everything the eye could see. Within a few minutes, the ground was white, even in the forest under the trees.

I made my way through the thin forest, heading towards a place I knew would offer shelter from the sudden storm. That was when it happened. I slipped. My hoof connected with something, a slick rock perhaps, and just went to the side. Ha! I had never had such a thing happen to me before in my life. First time for everything, they say. I tumbled down a low slope, and came to rest at the base of a large tree.

My leg hurt, as did my head. The tree was cold as I leaned my side against it; at first for support as I tried to stand, but moments later as shelter from the snow. I would not be walking out from underneath the boughs of that tree, not with that leg, anyway. I remember not wanting to accept that I would die under that tree, in that beautiful and silent snowstorm. At the same time, however, I quietly did accept it. I could think of no place more beautiful to die. I did not wish to die, but I had not wished to fall.

Silence. What I remember most about the next few hours is silence. My leg hurt, my head throbbed lightly, the air was biting cold and my wet mane clung to my neck as I lay against the tree, but the silence is still what sticks out to me. Odd, the way snow muffles noise. I couldn’t have been that far from the carnival, yet I heard nothing to indicate life had ever existed in those woods. I closed my eyes and reveled in the beautiful noise that was that silence.

“Walk for me,” a voice had stirred me from my timeless slumber. I opened my eyes, but was alone. “Walk for me,” the voice whispered again. The light of the now full moon shined down on the still forest, bathing the icy land in it's kind, cold light. The air was still, as though the forest had forgotten to breathe.

“Walk for me,” the voice whispered from everywhere and nowhere.
“I can’t walk,” I answered. My voice was dry, rough and quiet; unused. You can hardly tell, but it is much better today.
“I have fixed you,” the voice gently whispered, “you who had not wanted to die, yet had accepted death. I have fixed you, and you will walk.”
“Why?” I had groaned. It made no sense. I knew there was no fixing me; I knew I had lost my mind.
“You love the snow, you love the silence. You will walk in it, it will make them talk.”
“Who will talk?”
“They will. It will be lovely, and good for business,” I could hear the smile in the voice.
I had tried to laugh. The sound that came out was dry and rough and different. “I am no longer cold; I am no longer in pain. I am dead, so leave me be,” I had said.

“Dead you are and dead you are not. You are you, yet you are new. I have fixed you, and changed you. You did not want to die, yet accepted death.  So, I fixed you. You have life and you have death. And you will forever be able to enjoy the silence of a snowfall and the music of a carnivale. Walk for me, and come home.”

“I cannot walk,” the whisper that left my lips was dry but determined. I had decided to prove it to this voice. So I rose, and stood on all four of my feet, with better balance than I ever had before. Have you ever looked down at your own hooves, and seen hooves that were yours but not? I have. It was more chilling than the coldest night, than the eeriest fortune, and far more chilling than a whisper that is everywhere and nowhere. Yet...I felt no cold.

“Where shall I walk?” I asked the voice.
“Straight ahead,” the voice replied. “Straight ahead.”

Walk I did. In straight line, through that winter night. My strides were long, but my tracks were steady, leaving little more than a deep hoof-print in the snow. Through the woods, through pasture, over fences and dwellings. Straight ahead, just as I had been told.

I found myself in a pasture when the sun rose, and before me stood The Carnivale.
“Welcome home,” the owner of the voice had said. I've stayed with The Carnivale since that morning. Sure, sometimes I wander around in the silent, falling snow. Once the storm is over and the forest begins to breathe again, I always walk straight back to the carnival, no matter how far away it is. And they do talk about it, the locals. They seem to think my tracks...strange. Some would say not natural. 'Devil's Hoof-prints,' I've heard people say.

You don't look like you believe me. I can assure you, I did not always look the way I do now. I know I look half-dead, like something left out in the cold for too long. Matter of fact---
Oh! That's me they are hollering for. Enjoy the rest of your visit to The Carnivale, and if you stop by the fortune teller's booth, tell her J.D. sent you.


[Inspired by The Devil's Footprints and the Jersey Devil (as both have reports of strange, sometimes cloven, tracks) ]

'Don't look back. Don't look ba--run, run faster. RUN!'

It was fear that fuelled her. It was fear that drove her.

Sheer, heart-pounding terror coursed through her veins.

Fear pushed her faster. Fear made her careen through the forest, branches tearing at her pelt, her hair, her eyes. Eyes wide with fear. Heart near to bursting with it.

Still she fled.

There were no time for wild zig-zags, or mad sprints to the side. She had to grab her trinket, had to grab it fast. And she had to flee, even then. The Hounds of Hell closed in. She could feel their heated, eager breath on her tail.

No time for even thought now, only for drawing gasping breaths into her aching lungs, her strong, normally steady legs propelling her onwards. Faster, faster, faster. Don't let them get close. Never close. Run, run, run! It became the beat of her hooves against the forest floor.

There!

She came upon the place she had hidden it, her silken drape. A special, magical piece of sinuous fabric. With it, she could escape them. Stretching out her neck, she yanked it from its hiding place and charged on, fear still pushing her faster, faster, faster..!

Wild hope, fierce and bright, surged through her at the smell of the sea. Her home. Her sanctuary. She was going to ma--!

Her world shattered as she didn't duck soon enough, running smack-dab into a thick, low-hanging branch.

Her world went black as her horrified scream filled the air.

The Hell Hounds closed in, circling and sniffing, grinning their malicious grins; her sheer drape settling over top of her...

A funeral shroud..?



"You come from a place of deep dark...sometimes. Other times, you come from a place of blue light, wonderful freedom...but still you come where you've been warned to not. Your heart longs for something different from your vast home."

An eerie chill settled over the mare's shoulders, but she was raptly intrigued. How in all the lands was it possible for this mare to know and to see so much?

Time passed, and the fortune-teller continued to reveal more and more, so very close to the truth it was both exhilerating and unnerving. She found herself interested in this, this business of seeing, of fortune telling...of miracles. She couldn't wait to express her enthusiasm, and ask to be taught. Maybe she could bring the talent to her home, and be satisfied then.

Suddenly, the air seemed to shift and change, a foreshadow of the events to come. It was that moment the beautiful mare drew the Tower card. Her heart stuttered nervously in her chest, the hushed whispers urging care and caution only amplifying that effect. In a shaky voice, she promised to guard herself well. As she walked away a few short minutes later, the feeling was replaced by mild anger. Why should she want that talent when it brought such fear? Would she want to scare the others with such outlandish tales? Certainly not!

Deciding that she had had more than her fill of the land, and the Carnivale...she set off at a stately trot towards her hiding place for her fabric, the draw from the sea pulling her onwards.

Until she noticed them.

Was it her imagination that they had slunk from the shadows, forms that couldn't be--had to be impossible? Her heart slammed into her throat in that instant of panic. Hadn't she been warned?! What would she do?

Acting purely upon instinct, she burst forwards. They would never catch her; they couldn't.

'Oh please, oh please...Angeni above, please, they can't catch me. They just can't!'

Heart pounding, she fled into the dark forest, beautiful mane and tail streaming out behind her. Terror nipped her heels, and she was running. Running faster, faster, faster..!



The silken cloth was yanked from her form. Cringing, she shrank away from the 'Hounds' and cowered...only after several minutes realizing that something was wrong. She should have been dead right?

...but...why did she feel her tail?

Looking at herself, her eyes confirmed her greatest fears. She was half-morphed. Her sha--there, but... But... She shuddered, repulsed and afraid of the Soquili that held it now. Her only way back to her family, her life...her everything. Inside her mind, a loud wail broke free. Grief, disbelief, horror, fear, and many others slammed into her at once and she heaved several sobs.

She had a tail alright, though it was normally the tail she had when she lived and breathed the ocean waves. She was a Mer when she was beneath the water, a horse when she used her shawl to remove that which prevented her from moving along land...but now...now... What was she now?!

"You're one of us."

The voice was eerie, and only then did she realize that the fortune-teller had spoken. Somewhere amidst their ranks, a cackle of laughter burst, followed shortly by a shout. The shout turned her blood to ice.

"Welcome to the family!"



Ending Note: Drawn out by my love of the sea, the "freedom" beneath the waves, as well as some of my favourite "Legends". <3 And my love for A7X; the song fits perfectly; in a fit of inspiration I had to include it.

She had been born with skin as pale as fresh snow and thin like paper. When she was a child she would cry and cry because the glare of the sun burnt her pale skin, it hurt her frail eyes and all the others that saw her watched in disgust. The night was the only time that soothed her, the darkness shielding her eyes and gentle on her skin. She was different. They hated her, feared her. Her pale white skin was...creepy. She looked like a vampire, like a devil. They said she had kalona blood, demon blood. That no soquili should look as she did. As the years of her life passed she began to hate them. Began to feel a stirring of something else. Perhaps they were right, perhaps she was kalona. Because when she looked at her tormenters, the image that went through her head was of them with their throats ripped open. She tried to bury the image, she was not a monster! But still it came. They saw that hate, and avoided her like the plague and when she went to the carnival she went alone.

She sought out the fortune teller that night because she had heard there were others like her. Others that burned in the sun and longed for the coolness of the night. They were like her, she thought, kindred souls misunderstood. She knew something about this placed called to her, she knew that she could find answers in this place. The fortune teller was so kind, listening to her story sympathetically, and then reading her cards by the flickering light of a ghostly ball. Her life would change. She was glad of that, had longed for the day when she would finally break free of the horrified stares. The fortune teller knew where others were, knew the one place in the world that she would finally be able to feel at home.

So she trusted the words of the fortune teller, venturing into the night with a renewed hope. She met the tall stallion outside with a smile. He would take her to her kin, to the only soquili in the world that would accept her. He stepped towards her slowly and offered her a drink, the journey was a ways, he said. She accepted gratefully, drinking deeply of the goblet. After that, she couldn't remember.

- - - - - - - - -

The foal looked up eagerly. A new attraction, how enticing, how grand! Not yet open they said, but that had never stopped him. He looked around quickly, checking to make sure no one could see him before stepping up onto the platform. The box was tall and black, sealed from all sides. He crept closer, searching for something....and finally he saw it. A small hole just big enough for his eye to see in. At first he was confused. The box was pitch black save for a pale white form huddled in the centre. He thought about calling out but a noise startled him and he scampered off.

An hour later he was back, but this time when he looked through the peephole he saw nothing but a haze of red. Confused he backed away and then looked again, only to see the same red haze. Perhaps they had covered the hole, he thought, and ventured on his way. He stopped as two stallions passed, discussing a strange mare from their area that had suddenly dissappeared. They sounded glad.

"Why are you happy she dissappeared!" He demanded at them, and they looked down, surprised to find a foal so near to them.

"Well," they told him seriously. "She was a freak, an abomination, a demon child. Her skin was pale like death itself, but that wasn't the worst part about her, that wasn't how we knew she was a demon."

"What was, how did you know?" Asked the foal.

The first stallion looked around before bending down. "Her glowing red eyes."

- - - - - - - -

She stands in her cage like a demoness, pacing, agitated. Her blood red eyes stare out hungrily at the world. The tall stallion had made her taste their blood, and...it tasted good. So good. But it is dark in the cage, so dark. He lied, told her he would take her to her kin. There were no others he said after. Only her. Always her. She hated them, she hated him. She hated the way the blood sat in her stomach and pulsed through her like a drug. She wanted it. Needed it. Sometimes she hears movement outside her cage and sees the eyes that look in. And sometimes, she stares back hungrily, waiting, waiting for the moment she will be free.

“They say never acknowledge the darkness for you gives it power of you,” The Tarot reader advised me. "This is a dangerous time, a serious time to be alive,"she whispered . “Bet you say that to all the tourist,” I chucked at her. “However I do like what you have going on. This is truly a magical place and well I’m ashamed to admit it but I squealed like a foal when I heard a carnival was coming to entertain the local herds.” “Ah you got me, it's fun to scare the crowds. There is something about you I like. You can call me Lilith,” she said and with twinkling eys winked at me with a smile. The tarot reader drew her cards closer to her face and hummed and sighed. “I see much change up ahead,” Your views will be challenged and your perception of your self will altar drastically. “The Tarot reader stopped and gazed out of the both at the setting sun. “The Circus changes after sunset you know, “she said longingly. “Let me tell you a story,” Lilith was no longer smiling.

In the beginning in the very beginning.
At the very first days at the very first days
At the very first years at the very first years.
The darkness reigned
The unearthly darkness was feared.
For in the darkness lived the shadows
The shadows engulfed all, they feasted they gorged.
Never satisfied always greedy.
They stole they robed they controlled
It was from the shadows that she emerged it was from the shadows that she came.
The dark lady with no name, but the wailing women.
The controller of all, the puppet master the dream thief.
But then heroes arrived driving back the darkness
Driving back the wailing women, driving back the dark lady.
They pushed her off the face of the earth and into the shadow world.
Now she plays in The Blood Moon carnival.
The carnival of nightmares. Beware of shadows were none should appear.
Of a woman made of the darkness. Run far and as fast as you can.
For if she catches you. She will enslave you in her web and you shall join the bloody circus.


“I’ve never heard that story before. I’ll have to tell my herd that one, they’ll defiantly be scared,” I stuttered. I could feel my mane start to stand up. I felt scared like something was warning me beware. The tarot reader looked at the now dark sky and smiled a toothy smile. Her brown coat changed color in front of my eyes. No longer was a rich golden but ebony black. At her feet danced shadows reaching for me. “I do like you kid. You can call me Lilith, the dark lady, the wailing women.” I screamed in terror as the shadows rushed from her feet to embrace me. “Welcome to your New home, “She laughed joyously.

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