Night 3: It's all fun and games...
The fairgrounds glowed beneath the lantern light, lively as ever. Rides clattered and whirred, the smell of fried sugar still drifting in the air long after the booths had closed for the night. Workers moved quietly among the shadows, some checking on their stalls, some whispering hurried conversations by the livestock pens, others passing small tokens or notes into waiting hands.
A few odd sights stood out in the dark: a booth shuttered more firmly than usual, a tent glowing faintly as if lit through the night, the flash of a vest passed off with a wink, and the strange impression that some lucky soul was getting more than their fair share of attention. Even the whisper of unseen voices seemed to stir through the grounds, trailing after one particular fairgoer like the creak of old wheels on an empty track. And somewhere in the midway, rumors spread of a quiet deal-maker, not a killer nor a savior, but someone handing out tickets for reasons no one could quite explain.
And yet, for all that, nothing broke the rhythm of the night. No crashes, no shouts, no sudden silences. Even the ducks seemed to have settled down. The midway carried on as though nothing had changed, the neon lights painting cheerful colors across the dark.
When the morning came, the workers gathered slowly in the pale light of dawn. They looked around, counting heads, waiting for that familiar pang of loss. But there was none.
No one has died.
How strange, to start a new day with a sense of hope instead of grief. Perhaps they would make the most of it. After all, there was a special announcement waiting for them that morning…