Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I'm a Search And Rescue Officer. I Found A Carnival In The Woods | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 8, 2023

I saw it.     Story from Darkly_Gathers Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Darkly_Gathers | Story Compendium... - Darkly_Gathers                             Original YouTube link: I'm a Search And Rescue Officer. I Found A Carnival In The Woods      For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every day, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

I walk through the forest and push aside the overgrown branches. My radio crackles, and a distorted voice murmurs through. No sign of anything in the south position, heading north, converging with East team. An owl reacts to the noise, and I watch it glide away into the night. We're supposed to search in pairs, but a delay in the arrival of more officers caused us to head out alone. We can cover more ground that way. Three missing kids, three more missing kids, last scene heading this way, just like the others. And these kids could be trapped, they could be hurt, maybe badly injured.

It's thoughts like these that fill my mind. Every minute counts and there's no time to waste. I scan the beam of my flashlight across the trees, hunting for a clue, for some kind of evidence. I find nothing. So I push onwards, grunting as I freeing my foot from a route. We'd have far more luck searching in the daytime, but we'll do that tomorrow. There's no time to waste right now. I curse under my breath, as I think about these kids who just vanished into thin air.

I know why they came this way. You see, deep in the forest lie the ruins of an abandoned fairground. ground. And when I say abandoned, we're talking decades and decades here. The whole site is a relic. I guess the carnies decided to move on, leaving their trucks and trailers and rides behind, left to rust in the wilderness, forgotten and overgrown. I free my sleeve from a sharp branch, and a twig snaps off and falls to the ground. Local rumor suggests that the workers all just disappeared one night. Straight up vanished into thin air. One minute they were here, running their various games, and, let's face it, scams. And the next there was nothing. Nothing but dust and

splinters. I shiver. I never really gave much thought to the stories, but on nights like these, you can see where they might have come from. Have humans always been afraid of the dark, I wonder? as I move deeper into the forest. My feet crunching the leaves. I'm going to find it soon. I'm sure of it. The abandoned carnival. It's weird.

I've been here before, of course. With the police as part of other search and rescue missions. We always plan to map the location once the job is done, but we never do. Something else always comes up. We lose interest. We forget. And then we find ourselves in situations like these. This time I tell myself.

This time for sure. But first, just find the kids. Let's get them home and safe where they belong. I feel a sudden rush of wind. I squint, shuling my face as I stumble through branches into a clearing. My eyes are drawn. to out of place splashes of color, bright streaks against the gloom of the forest. The beam of my flashlight falls on painted bars of red, orange, yellow, and blue.

I reach down from my radio and speak into it. Does anyone copy? I'm at the damn carnival. I clear my throat. Anyone in the West search team share your location. I hesitate. Watching the tattered old flags of the ruined structures tear and pull at their flagpoles. The radio crackles, but I get no response.

I try again. West Search Team, your location? Anyone? Over. I wait. But there's nothing. I swear to myself and move forward. Screw it.

We're all heading in roughly the same direction. They'll be here soon enough. Or at least some of them will. I push aside my fear as I pass between the wooden wrecks of the carnival. To the right, an old shooting range sits dilapidated and overgrown. Vines creep through holes in the wood, and the walls are scrawled with graffiti. On one of the images there's a single red eye with a crude black iris and a scarlet center. It watches me as I pass by.

I look away, clenching and unclenching one of my fists as I scan the area with the flashlight. Hello? I call out. Search and rescue. Is anyone there? But my words are carried away by the wind. I come to a stop, staring ahead at a large, ruined structure, almost entirely swallowed by the creep of the forest.

The doorway still stands, though. A gaping black hole into the unknown. I rub a thin sheen of sweat from my forehead. My gut tells me not to go in, but I have to. Everywhere needs to be searched. Maybe the rest of the team will be here soon. We can search as a group. I look to the left, and in a clearing just beyond a fallen branch is what must have been the shining jewel of the fair.

an ornate wooden carousel painted in gold, silver, and white. I recognize the thing, though it's been a long while since I was last year. The colors are faded, and the lights and bulbs are all broken. That being said, it must have been quite the sight in its day. There's a series of wooden horses attached to poles that go all the way around. I take a few steps closer, as the world. wind ruffles my collar. Looking closely, it seems the horses are not the only animals built into the carousel. Weird, I think to myself. I don't remember seeing any other creatures before.

But there are others. I'm looking right at them. Animals that don't really make sense, they don't match. One of the wooden creatures appears to be a peasant. pig or a boar, its eyes wide and white, staring madly out at nothing, as if it waits for its next rider. I walk a little closer and begin to slowly circle the edge of the huge carousel, examining it from all angles. One of the creatures is a great white snake. It's coiled around the pole in unnatural angles.

Its jaw hangs open, and the wood around the teeth is badly chipped. The snake's eyes are a bright crimson, stark against its pale body. A desire to try my radio again passes through me, but I am now very aware of a fragile tension in the air that I'm afraid to disturb. I drop my hand to my belt, but I leave the radio alone for now. Another animal joins this unnatural circus. Except I don't recognize what this creature is. This animal is unfamiliar to me.

It has stubby, claw-like feet and a snout. But this is no pig. Its ears resemble those of a dog. And finally, I stop. A gasp catches in my throat. the sound of the wind through the trees grows louder. Those are wooden children here. They are intricately carved to match the others. Their faces are frozen in horror. Their bodies bent, I murmur. The sound barely a whisper as I take a step back, casting the beam of the flashlight

over these sickening additions to the carousel. The light flashes in the wooden eye of the closest child. It stares straight ahead, unblinking. These weren't here the last time. I am absolutely sure. What the hell is this? This is impossible. Unless I've stumbled onto a different carousel.

I turn and send the beam of light past the nearby trees, moving it across the wreckage of the rest of the carnival. Could there have been two? I look back to the carousel and return my light to the wooden child. Its eye is now staring directly at me. I shout and stumble backwards, tripping on a root and falling to the ground in a flurry of leaves. The wooden child watches from above, as dust and debris are blown between us. No, I find myself saying, mumbling, shining the light directly into the face of this carved and twisted child.

No. The pupil of the carving narrows and shrinks, and a low rumbling begins to rise from the carous. The gears grind, the sound of metal-unmetal screeches, and suddenly, one by one, the carousel's lights begin to flicker into life. Yellows and reds glowing in the darkness. Shadows are cast in all directions from the wooden creatures, the horses, the pig, the snake, the child, and a low melody begins to play. as the carousel slowly starts to turn. Very slowly at first, but around it goes, around and around. The creatures bob up and down in time to the music. I watch, knuckles gripping my flashlight,

as the wooden child is hauled slowly up and down, as he is sent around the side of the carousel. and disappears from sight. There are more of them, I realize. There's another boy and a girl. All carved, all with that same terrible, painted quality. Surely they're not alive. They're just carvings, models.

And yet, I know this isn't true. There is a frozen. life to them that makes me sick. I staggered my feet, retreating back and away from the clearing as the carousel picks up speed. The lights flash faster, brighter, and the music intensifies, blaring out through the forest. What sounds like a clown's mocking laughter warbles out from somewhere behind me, somewhere up high from an unseen speaker. I wheel around, and my beam lands upon the ruined house from before, the one largely swallowed by the creeping forest, with a gaping black doorway. Except, it doesn't look so broken down anymore. The entrance looks just as terrible as

before, but the structure no longer appears to be in ruins. The paint is new. The lights flash. And as I try to understand, the lights all across the carnival start to reappear. Carnival colors and distorted tunes begin to drift through the dark. I bring my radio to my mouth and shout some nonsense into it. Requesting backup, asking for the positions of my teeth. teammates. But there is no response. The radio crackles uselessly. I look back to the house.

The overgrown vines and branches make it impossible to tell how deep the house actually goes. It looks endless. A giant painted clown looms over the entrance. His eyes are wide and leer down it may. The sign reads, the puppet master's mirror maze. The house creaks in the wind. For a second, it seems as if the clown leans out towards me. Sweats leaks down the back of my collar. I don't know what to do. Should I run? That's the smart call. I should run? Doubt settles in. And as I wrestle with my choices, a sudden shadow, moving fast, appears in the corner of my vision. I turn towards it, and my light passes across for one quick moment. It's another child.

It has to be. A boy. And I watch as he sprints directly into the gaping black mouth at the entrance to the house of mirrors, vanishing inside. Wait, I call after him. My steps heavy as I approach the nightmare building. As I step into the building, there's an instant claustrophobia. Directly ahead, a tunnel leads away into the dark, and this is the only route. The boy must have gone this way.

So I set off in pursuit, running between the blackened walls as fast as I can. Oh, I shout out. But the boy keeps going. I glimpse him rounding a corner at the far end. Common sense kicks in, coldly and suddenly. What kind of kid would run with such purpose into such a creepy building? I skid to a halt at the end of the corridor, panting and peering around the corner and to darkness. I see the boy, but I see dozens of him.

All faced away from me, all running in different directions. He is reflected in a hundred mirrors. I turned to look back the way I came, but instead of a single hallway, there are now many, all taking me in different directions. The level of light is sickly and low. I can't see the entrance. A cold chill shoots up my spine as I try to retrace my steps. There's no boy in here, I think to myself.

It was a trap. Shit, I mutter under my breath. As I stride back down the hallway, trying to choose the most logical route to take me back where I started. I see my reflections marching with me on either side. shadowy and distorted. And then to my horror, the reflection to my right turns to look at me.

His eyes are nothing but dark pits. I yell and jump away, swiveling to stare at this horror. But the only thing that stares back at me is my own expression. Is something, comes a whisper from right behind. A whisper in my own voice.

All the hairs on my neck stand on end as I spin around. But I see nothing but my own frightened reflection. I keep moving. Gotta get out. I mutter. Gotta get out. But no matter how fast I walk or run, I can't find the entrance. The tunnels spill into each other leading to dead ends.

That warbled clown-like laughter filters through the air overhead. I slam myself against the mirrored walls, I try my radio again, but nothing works. I draw the radio back as I prepare to slam it hard against the closest mirror. But a flickering light catches my eye. I turn, and to my left, two corridors are revealed. One of them leads to the entrance. I can feel the breeze against my skin. I can see shades of colorful carnival light and scattered leaves being blown across the open doorway and down the second corridor.

I see the boy still faced away from me, but he's not running away anymore. He seems trapped in place. I hear him call out. Hey, is someone there? Please help me. I wipe my forehead. Please, please help me. Christ, I murmur, glancing between the two corridors.

Oh, God. The boy screams, and it is his corridor that I choose. I have to. That's why I'm here. I run towards him with as much bravery as I can muster. Is he trapped? I ask myself, caught inside the glass. I reach out a hand as he draws closer and closer.

No, he isn't trapped. My hand grabs his shoulder and it is cold, cold and hard. He collapses in ones to the floor, and I stumble right over him, unable to stop. Hey, I say, hey, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, all right, come on, we got to get you out. As I finish my sentence, the world around me becomes much darker. One by one, the mirrors around me begin to crack and fall. They collapse like dominoes, one after the other, leaving an endless black void. The boy rises, not like a child, clumsily climbing to his feet after a fall, but like a puppet, jerked up by strings.

Up he rises, his head rolling back until the string attached to his scalp is yanked up. up and his wooden puppet-like face becomes clear. His jaw is separate from the rest of his face. It clacks as his head is hauled around. His eyes are wooden, rich red wood in black sockets. They roll as his arms are thrown out to the sides. You aren't a child, the boy says. His voice now hollow. You're an adult. Adults aren't fun. They don't like to play. The voice becomes deeper and deeper, and as it does, it seems to be coming from the blackness

overhead. I slowly tilt my face up to the darkness, and the shadow of an enormous being, a twisted copy of the clown over the doorway looms into view. Adults don't play games like the children do. The clown whispers, his lips cracking and stretching unnaturally with every word. He draws back into the darkness, becoming little more than a silhouette with pinprick red eyes. And then he jumps suddenly forward, staring right down at me, jerked. Looking the boy like a puppet from side to side, adults can't ride the carousel.

The clown grins, his eyes wide and mad. What do you think, friend? Don't you want to be a little boy again? Embrace your inner child. And then the last remaining mirror flickers in the gloom. Frozen, my eyes dart to it, and I see my own reflection stare back at May. This reflection, however, is not today's version of myself. The reflection that watches from the glass can't be more than eleven years old.

He watches me, frozen and terrified, waiting to see what I'll do. I see his fear and I feel it in myself. I clench my fists and with a burst of anger I break free from this nightmare spell. The mirror shatters. I do not engage with the beast. I just run. I run across the flat plains of the now mirrorless mirror house, my boots crunching in the shattered glass, and I head towards freedom. Colorful streaks of carnival light stream dimly through a rectangle.

I head towards it as fast as I can. Oh, you will ride it, won't you? The clown laughs. You will play. I passed through the doorway, swallowing a great lung full of fresh air as I stagger down into the grass, I have to help him, I say out loud, half delirious. The laughter behind me is lost in the wind as I haul myself to my feet, sprinting to the carousel, still spinning around and around in its little clearing. The creatures built into their stands begin to merge together, and the lights flicker and flash at an alarming speed. A part of me feels like I'm playing. playing right into this monster's wishes. But I have to try something.

And I can't shake this feeling that I'm running out of time. So I run towards the carousel. And I leap up onto the wildly spinning platform. I grab onto a pole connected to a wooden horse. I haul myself deeper into the spinning platform. The horses are cast in red than green. than blue light. Is anyone here?

I call out. This might be your last chance. I might be able to still help you. I catch sight of the wooden children, trapped in place, connected to the carousel's poles, moving up and down as we spin round and around. I stagger where I stand,

stumbling, grabbing hold of the nearest pole for support. I feel myself becoming nauseous. My stomach turns as I squint my eyes, the forest beyond now only a dark blur. I take a heavy step forward along the platform, my jacket flying back from the force of the spinning. And as I focus in on the wooden children, for a brief second, they don't appear all that wooden. Like one of those those. Those old-timey animation wheels. I can't remember what they're called, but you spin them and look through a little lens, and

you can see a series of drawings moving so quickly that it creates the appearance of movement like a running man or a horse. This is how I see the children, the real children, lost and skisks. cared and panicked, frame by fearful frame. They turned to me amidst the blur and the lights, and I reach out my hand. Come with me, I shout. I'll get you out of here. Please, you have to trust me.

One of the children speaks to me, but I do not hear her above the notes and chords of the carnival melody. Her mouth moves soundlessly, and she drifts to me like a specter. But she is human. I can see it in her expression. This is no puppet, no phantom. She reaches out, and I grab her hand. And at once she is filled with life, the color returning to her,

and she clings to me sobbing. There's another behind her. A boy, and I grab him too, waiting through what feels like a storm across the platform in order to reach him. And there is one more here. The third. He does not respond. He is motionless on the ground. I reach down to grab him, grunting as I haul him up and over my shoulder.

The others cling to my free arm. as we push past the carousel's creatures, one by one all slowly coming to life. The horses neigh and stamp their hooves with bitter rage. Something enormous and pale slithers between the poles just out of sight. We have to jump. I tell them. The children begin to protest, but I cut them off. Here we go. Jump on three. One, two, three.

And out we jump, away from the whirl and calamity of the carousel, and we crash and stumble across the earth and the grass as we land on the ground with a series of painful thuds. The world spins as I'm sent rolling through the dirt. Once I come to a stop, I shut my eyelids tight to try and stop the dizziness. And as I do, I realize that the carnival lights around us have all stopped. The only source of light now comes from my flashlight. I reach for it, scanning my immediate surroundings. The carousel is dark. The creatures are lifeless

and still. There are no children built into the wood. And from here, the only animals I can see are the horses. Huddled beside me and shivering. Are two of the children. They begin to babble to me, moving their arms wildly, but they're speaking too quickly to understand. Whoa, whoa, slow down, all right?

I tell them putting out a hand. It's all right. The carnival looks like it did before, dilapidated and ruined. The house of mirrors has lost its tainted magic, and no laughter plays over any speakers. His hand, the girl says suddenly, covering her mouth and staring at the boy lying on the ground beside us. I grunt and shift, look in the poor kid over. His forehead is warm and he's still breathing, but I follow the gaze of the other children to his hand laid across his chest.

I swallow and stare at it, then gently take his hand in my own. It's cold. It's cold because it is entirely made of wood. I turn it slowly in disbelieve. And as I do, it collapses into nothing but splinters and sawdust. The girl cries out and the other boy backs away, staring. The three of us jump as a crackly voice comes blaring through my radio. West Seam, converge.

We find Ed and work out what the hell is happening. I bring it swiftly up to my mouth and press the button. It's all right, West Team, this is Ed. We're okay. I... I have the kids. I look between them. The girl and the boy and the one asleep in the grass.

He stirs and twitches, and my heart goes out to him. To all of them. I give my coordinates into the receiver. And it isn't long before we hear the voices of the rescue team drawing closer through the trees. Come on, I say to him, hoisting the sleeping child up in my arms. Let's get you guys home. The kids are promptly bundled into blankets, and the radio network comes alive with voices.

I fuel the grip of my colleague on my shoulder, and we all head back the way we came through the forest. But as we do, I can't. Catch the faintest sound at the edge of my hearing. Drifting in from behind, I hear the sound of sickening laughter. I hear a note or two of a broken melody. And I hear the destructive sound of splintering wood. And then as quickly as they came, the sounds are lost.

to the wind and the forest and the forest