Across wide expanse of blacktop Bridged by time, mechanics, and fuel Thunderous tires rumble non stop Car driven by hideous ghoul The vehicle offers a ride To a creepy wandering soul The voyage resumes once inside Without destination or goal Far from a radio station Time is passed with frightening tales One for each state of the nation As they speed through numerous trails The convertible haunts the road The horrific passengers ride With tales that frighten and forebode Sanity falls by the wayside
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Circus of the Unknown is on the horizon. The billowing smoke from the engine can be seen from this distance. The flat ground before you will soon be broken by tents and carts and stakes and rope. The circus is on the horizon.
Though the circus has yet to open, the air is ripe with possibility. There is electric excitement, charging the atmosphere enough to stand hair on end. You can feel the change that’s coming.
There will be a time we may not remember the calm before the proverbial storm. Once the Ferris wheel is turning and the cotton candy is spinning, it may be difficult to believe that there was a time before the circus was here. This is the nature of the beast. To live in the moment and lose track of all else.
All too soon, the circus will pull up stakes and head off into the mountainous pass beyond. That is also not a thought that comes to mind when the fun is in full gear. To contemplate the end.
Friday the 13th is a good day. A lucky day. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.
It is a day to look ahead to the things coming. A time to know that it is all still ahead of us. Hold your breath. It will be here soon now.
And the sideshow will be there, too.
Forest dark with a winding path
A little foreboding at night
Potential prey to creature’s wrath
Where shadows obscure all from sight
A lone cabin offers refuge
From the things that cry, creep, and crawl
And protection from the deluge
As the downpour begins to fall
Yet the shack does not surcease fear
As ghostly stories are spoken
Three tales are told aloud to hear
Horrors galore are awoken
With tales fantastic and scary
Teeth start to chatter as terror soars
Eyes dart and senses are wary
The very last story is yours