Mr Creepies’ Demented Labyrinth

Nov. 30st 2021
A sudden gust of wind smacked my face, blurring my vision. My hand instinctively reached out, snatching a paper plastered across my face by the force of the wind. It was a flyer for Mr. Cooger Creepies’ Clown Carnival and Big Tent Extravaganza. The peculiarity of the situation struck me both physically and mentally. The memory of John Lennon’s “Benefit of Mr. Kite” poster, transformed into a haunting song, flashed through my mind, the strange connection intrigued me. Folding the flyer, I tucked it away in my jacket pocket. As the day dragged on, my pockets disgorged their contents, revealing the Creepies flier once more. I placed it on my desk, but it soon vanished beneath a relentless tide of purposeful papers, lost to the world like a forgotten relic. Little did I know, that piece of paper would lead me down a path of troubles.

August 17th 2022
A wave of dread crashed over me as I remembered my promise to deliver a Fall Festival, just weeks away. Desperation drove me to my office, where I cleared a space to initiate my planning session. Amidst the chaos of moving documents and files, the Cooger Creepies flier resurfaced like a phantom from the past. Not one to believe in coincidences, still I decided to explore this option for its oddity. My search for contact info yielded some references, but no method of contact. Giving up after a half hour of failure, I began planning a conventional haunted trail and some fall festival events.

September 1st 2022
The phone call came like a chilling breeze. Mr. Cooger Creepies spoke with a familiarity that made me shutter. I asked how he knew I was looking for him. His answer was cryptic, referencing an email from someone unknown, correctly referencing Swampy Jack. With trepidation, I inquired about his offerings. His response was to enquire what I sought. I told him of my ideas. His reply, in retrospect, was to tell me exactly what I wanted to hear. Cooger was cunning, his responses crafted to ensnare me, to make me believe that he was the answer to my needs. We agreed to continue discussions the following day. And so, we did, and days turned into weeks, and our discussions continued, each one leaving me more entangled in his web of deception. Cooger played me like a puppet, stringing me along until I had no option but to commit to him, all the while the phrase “Beware of the autumn people” echoed hauntingly in my mind. As I signed the contract with Mr. Creepies, I believed I was entering into a deal with a reputable Fall Carnival, one that would bring joy to all. Little did I know the misery that awaited.

Oct. 5th, 2022
What materialized felt like a scene from “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” As I stood there, contract executed and payment made in full, Cooger and his Creepies descended upon us like a malevolent cloud. From that moment on, I knew this was no ordinary fall carnival; the joy I had hoped for had vanished, replaced by a haunting sense of dread. The illusion of a family-friendly festival crumbled as Mr. Creepies and his entourage tumbled from their transport. They were like a psych ward on wheels, unleashing a troupe of nightmarish performers upon us. The banners on their eerie bus and sinister trucks proudly displayed their twisted offerings: “Mr. Creepies’ Demented Clown Carnival, Disturbing Freakshow, and Big Tent Labyrinth.” I was trapped in a nightmare of my own making, and the consequences of my folly loomed ominously that night.

October 31st, 2022
The Big Tent was, in fact. a desperate labyrinth throughout, a twisted realm of horror. Within its confines, the demented clowns lurked, their temperaments as unpredictable as a ticking time bomb. At their best, they unnerved; at their worst, they exuded wickedness, sheer maniacal evil. Under Mr. Creepies’ rule, what may once have been a professional show descended into a carnival of madness, now populated by a horde of psychopaths and narcissists, each more unhinged than the last. The disturbing freaks, abominable creatures too grotesque for any normal freakshow, emitted malevolence that sent chills down spines. The most anti-social were caged and contained in narrow, claustrophobic corridors for daring visitors to navigate past. But even this wasn’t the carnival’s final horror. The clown-freak rejects, pitiful misfits, who performed unknown tasks for the troupe, lurked in the shadows in and outside the tent, a reminder of darkness lurking beneath the carnival’s veneer.
Throughout the month, our staff faced an ominous mission, protecting customers and employees from this malevolent troupe. A 24-hour guard duty shielded them from the haunting truths only slightly concealed by the enigmatic carnival. Unaware of the macabre dance they had joined, customers reveled in their fear, unaware they were withing the lunatics’ grasp. Cooger’s Creepies wove terror, savoring the screams wafting throughout the tent. For some, terror became a relentless companion, forever clinging to their psyche and haunting their dreams. Yet, we survived with few casualties, dancing with danger, narrowly escaping catastrophe. The show was a success. Our customers, unsuspecting and blissfully ignorant of the haunting truths, enjoyed the spectacle.

November 1st 2022
As if they never existed, all traces of Mr Creepies and his entourage have vanished—except for the insanity that lingers in the back of my mind like a black fog.

August 3rd 2023
I’ve pulled the flyer from the book where I keep it hidden, and laid it in the center of my desk. And so, I await word from Mr. Creepies, which I expect no sooner than September 1st.