Evil (Treyed!)
by Paige Addison

Chapter 1: Sugar Sweet

*

Rarely is there silence at a carnival.

This one was no exception. Every 4 minutes and 7 seconds there would be
a collective heave and groan as the 28 occupants of the Whirl-'N-Puke
staggered out to discard their lunch. Cheerful carnival music, pre-recorded
lovingly by heavily paid bagpipers, blasted from speakers all over the
park. They almost but not quite drowned out the sound of screams that
erupted precisely 53 seconds after the heave and groan. The screams, of
course, poured from the throat of the unlucky sap who had taken a trip on
the Bungee Cord of Death without springing the extra forty gold for a
parachute. The following thump rarely occurred at the same time, differing
on such factors as height, weight, and whether or not the parachute was
was too moth-eaten to be of use.

There was the occasional sound of a mini cannon blast and the accompanying
squirt of a soft, creamy pie hitting cartilage and bone at 40 mph. There
was also the sound of clacking, sometimes even gnawing, and in particularly
dismal times, gnashing. And when little kids came by and planted a happy
kick in his upper thigh before racing off to the rides, a man locked deep
within the visage of a dog would mumble unflattering words directed at the
said child's parentage.

Some days there would be none of that. The carnival was always crowded, of
course, but the customers were mainly thrill-seekers in their twenties and
thirties. Children rarely came, their parents too broke or exhausted or
inherently sane to bring them.

But some days...some days there would be a child. And Dippy Dawg, locked
deep within the sweltering suit of fur, would do little jigs to the
nonexistent beat of the bagpipes, and offer to guess the child's weight
and age. The child would almost always agree, delight gleaming in their
innocent eyes, and Dippy Dawg would proceed to correctly guess both.
And with that delight fading to dull hatred, the child would then shove
their heel into his leg and run away wailing.

And the gnashing and moaning and grumbling would begin...

One day, a day that seemed like so many others, something changed.

The first sign was a girlish, childlike hum. It drifted on the breeze
to their ears, along with the nauseating stench emanating from the hot
dog stand. And then little shuffling steps could be heard traipsing
through the dirt, until she arrived before them, smiling sweetly.

She could have been no more than seven, a sweet blond child with angelic
green eyes. She wore a delightful sea-green dress trimmed with yards of
lace, and carried a small backpack on her back. She set her bag down as
she stood still, her shiny black shoes untouched by dust. She clasped
her hands in front of her and smiled sincerely at Dippy Dawg.

"Well well!" Dippy Dawg proclaimed. "What a purty little thing you are!
Ready to have a great time at the Carnival Of The Damned?"

Her eyes went wide and a Shirley Temple-esque smile of shock appeared on
her face. "Mr. Dippy Dawg? Is that really you?"

"It shore is!" He knelt down. "And what's your name, kiddo?"

She grinned, lips parting to reveal an abnormally straight line of pearly
teeth. "Hannah," she whispered.

"Well, Hannah!" Dippy Dawg announced. "Didja wanna play a fun game with
your good ol' buddy, Dippy Dawg?"

Amidst the usual racket, the screams and heaves and the strange muffled
groans coming from the keel-hauling exhibit, there was one soft noise.

*Clack.*

For a moment Hannah's head turned, as if hearing a silent whistle. She
stared briefly into the air, then glanced back at Dippy Dwag, smiling
angelically.

"I'd love to!"

"Swell!" Dippy Dawg tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Now, let's see. Ah'll
try to guess your age 'n weight, and if I guess wrong, you'cn win a prize!"
He gestured to all the toys lining the shelves, their gleam dulled somewhat
by several layers of dust. Hannah scanned them over once, then nodded.
"Okay."

Dippy Dawg bounced from one foot to the other in excitement. "Okay, gimmie
a minute..."

From somewhere on the shelf came a strange sound, the sickening grind of
bone on bone.

"I bet you're seven years old exactly!" Dippy Dawg exclaimed after a moment.

Hannah grinned and nodded, a blush in her cheeks. She moved an inch closer
to her bag, then another, then another.

"Okay. Still got one more chance!" He tugged at his ears thoughtfully,
staring at her.

Hannah let her eyes widen and mouth drop. "Oh my gosh, Mr. Dippy Dawg!"
she squeaked, pointing behind him. "Is that a meteor?"

Dippy Dawg whirled, panicked. "Not again! It's not anywhere near harvesting
season - "

Quick as a wink, Hannah threw open her backpack. She scooped out two
handfuls of heavy lead pellets and slipped them into her pockets. She
bounced on her heels and frowned, scooping up two more handfuls and dropping
them down her socks.

"You shore gave me a start, kiddo!" Dippy Dawg turned, sticking his paw
down his throat to wipe his forehead. "I didn't see any meteor."

"My mistake," Hannah sang, tilting her head most innocently.

"Now..." Dippy Dawg looked critically at her for a moment. "A little tyke'a
your size would weight about...42 pounds! Step onto the scale, kiddo, and
let's see!"

Hannah took a careful step onto the platform, her socks and pockets rattling
suspiciously. Dippy Dawg didn't seem to notice, leaning over to read the
bobbing lever.

"Now, this must be some kind of horrible, terrible mistake," Dippy Dawg
muttered after a moment. "No way a little kiddo like you could weigh
79 pounds!"

To one side, there was the sound of a gentle scrape. It repeated, over
and over, and over...

"My mommy always said I was a very unassuming child," Hannah explained. "Do
I get a prize?"

Dippy Dawg scratched his head again, feeling lost, before nodding. "I guess
so! Whaddya want?"

Hannah stepped down and examined the shelves. Such a glittering,
dust-covered multitude of toys and goodies! She skimmed each row carefully,
heedless of the little silver pellets that were erupting from her socks
with each step.

Suddenly, she stopped. A wave of pellets washed out of her socks onto the
ground as she raised herself on tiptoes to peer at the shelf.

"You," she whispered, a harshness entering her tone. "You are the one I
have been seeking. You are the one who can aid me on my quest to throw
open the gates of the hellish underworld and let the rotting undead roam
free!"

Dark, empty eye sockets stared into impossibly adorable baby blue eyes.

"You mean it?"

"Yes!" Hannah hissed. "All across the land, I've heard one name and one
name only! Murray! The skull feared by all, even the Lord of the Dead!
'He has ideas,' they all say. 'Great ideas. Someday he'll wreak so much
havoc on the land that they'll build mighty statues and temples to his
image and name!"

There was a slight pause, and for a moment Hannah wondered if she had gone
overboard. But after a moment -

*Clack.*

*Clack.*

*clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack*

It took Hannah a moment he was laughing with pure, evil glee.

With a hellish giggle of her own, she grabbed Murray and tucked him under
her arm, skipping away merrily towards certain chaos and death.

Dippy Dawg, feet thumping happily to the perky sound of bagpipes, didn't
notice.

*****