Hellotober day 18 | KILLER CLOWN

Hunter’s Log – Day 18
The smell of burnt sugar and rust greets me before the gates do. Laughter drifts through the night air sharp, wrong, like something being cut. This carnival isn’t built for joy; it’s a feeding ground dressed in lights and ribbons. Torn tents sway in the wind, the ground slick with candy and blood. The toys stare with cracked smiles. Even the air hums with unease.

The locals whisper about disappearances, about visitors who never walk out once they buy their tickets. I didn’t come to save them. I came for the one pulling the strings.

He waits somewhere amid the noise a towering anthro beast in clown paint, his grin carved too deep, his chainsaw howling like a captive soul. The crowd mistakes him for part of the act. But I can see the truth behind the mask, smell the iron in the air.

This one won’t fall easily. His strength is brute, his madness pure. The lights will strobe, the saw will sing, and blood will paint the sawdust red before the night is done.

But a hunter knows how to dance amid chaos.
And when the music dies, another name will be crossed from the list.

OC belongs to: @ ww1990ww (on cara)