Cult of Carnival
After a fire claims her mother and sister, Harker Peters finds solace in their sideshow home. But dark secrets fracture her reality, causing her to confront the truth and embark on a perilous journey of self-discovery.
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PROLOGUE
OUTLOOK FOREST
// NIGHT
What do you do when everything you have ever known abandons you?
There isn’t a more known cliche than a child running away from home to join the circus, but to Harker Peters, home was the circus. When a mysterious fire took her mother and her sister from her, she was adopted by the sideshow, and they quickly became the only family she would have ever known since she was ten years old.
Ambrose’s sideshow was unique, to say the very least. A morose display of talent that many had never seen before or since. It wasn’t the kind of show that you pick up a ticket for at the grocery store or one your child comes home from school asking you to sign a permission slip for.
It was dark, disturbing, and destructive.
Honestly, it wasn’t as much of a show as it was an excuse for an egomaniac to have a legion of followers making his dreams of fame come true. He would do anything to stoke his ego, and to the very few who could see through his veil of lies, they saw it for what it was… a cult.
And Harker would learn this the hard way.
CHAPTER 1
OUTLOOK FOREST
// NIGHT
As the late air crisped, it sucked the hope of return out of the heart of the teenage girl, leaving nothing more than the bitter bite of night and a sad reality.
She is alone.
The solitude has become nothing more than an echo chamber in the vast emptiness of her thoughts.
Illuminated by the fiery flicker of a small torch, Harker hunches over her makeup desk in the corner of the tent.
There was no reason to be here anymore, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Harker would frequently be hazed by others in the show for the time spent on her character’s look. Because to them, no matter how much she was family, she wasn’t actually part of the show. She wasn’t a performer, had no talents, and wasn’t even featured in the promotional fliers.
She was just a barker.
For those who don’t know, a barker is a person who stands outside an attraction and catches people's attention to get them interested in the show. With a loud, powerful voice, catchy phrases, and even a bit of showmanship, their aim is to draw in the crowd and convince them to buy tickets. And to Harker, that not only made her part of the show but the most crucial part of the show.
Because without her, there would be no audience. And what’s a show with no audience?
The show began and ended with her. She was the first and final person the audience would hear and see every night. So, despite the frequent slighting, she knew her place.
And it was important.
When her older sister was alive, she worked as a “hawker,” selling tickets, but that would require someone to accompany her as a barker to attract customers. So interestingly, their mom derived Harker's name from a blend of 'hawker' and 'barker’ because you can’t have one without the other, A subtle nod to the fact that the sisters will always have one another.
It was nothing against her sister, but Harker always believed that one person should perform the job, and since childhood, she sensed that this role was meant for her. A hawker sold tickets, and a barker sold the show. But together, they were a show all their own.
Finally, the day arrived for their mother to ask her to become the barker to her sister’s hawker. The vital first step to her self-appointed destiny. Her sister wanted to move on to the main stage and join their mom, but Harker knew where her stage was.
Every good entree can be overshadowed by a great appetizer.
And so it was; she was shackled.
Harker sits up from the makeup desk, breaking her blank gaze to look around the tent she has called her bedroom for years. No matter what soil the stakes were planted in, this was always her room, and it was always the same. She preferred it that way.
And now it was all she had left.
Ambrose had taught her at a young age, “Without a story, we are merely clowns with no expression.” Like everything in entertainment, each item, too, came with a story.
Ambrose didn't have a performable talent, but to put it blankly, it was his show. Everything started and finished with him. He organized every performance, chose the venues, and was responsible for everything from the sound to the look. But he was an intense anomaly of a human being. Besides his dedication to the show and a known addiction to alcohol, no one knew very much about him. He was like a God to his performers— and he liked it that way. Not very many had ever even seen him outside of makeup. He wasn’t mortal; he was the ringleader.
But to Harker, he always felt like much more.
To her—he was the closest thing she had ever had to a father. But, deep down, she always wondered if it was orchestrated that way. He was manipulative, and no matter how much she wanted to trust him, she always knew there was a dastardly inspiration behind every smile beneath his twisted whiskers.
But we’ll get to that in time.
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