Creepy Carnival | A Supernatural Story For Kids

The last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink as the Johnson family drove down a lonely road in the Iowa countryside. They were on their way back from a long day of visiting relatives when Ben, the ten-year-old boy in the back seat, noticed something strange in the distance.

“Look! A carnival!” Ben exclaimed, pointing out the window.

His parents, distracted by a small argument about directions, hadn’t noticed the towering Ferris wheel or the colorful tents that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in a wide, empty field. The road was long and lonely, and the idea of stopping for a bit of fun was appealing.

“Why not? It could be fun,” Ben’s dad said, turning the car towards the carnival.

As they approached, the carnival looked like something from an old photograph. The tents were faded, the banners frayed at the edges, and the lights flickered as if they were struggling to stay on. But there was something enchanting about it, a mysterious allure that drew them in.

Ben’s mom hesitated. “It looks a little run-down, don’t you think?”

But Ben was already out of the car, his eyes wide with excitement. “Come on, let’s go! Please?”

His parents sighed and followed him inside. The carnival was buzzing with activity—strange music played from hidden speakers, and ghostly laughter floated on the breeze. Despite the oddness, Ben couldn’t wait to explore.

“I’ll be right back!” Ben called as he ran toward a brightly lit tent labeled “Funhouse of Mirrors.”

His parents barely noticed, too busy chatting with a vendor selling cotton candy. They didn’t see the way the lights in the carnival flickered strangely, or how the shadows seemed to move on their own.

Ben pushed through the heavy curtains of the funhouse and found himself surrounded by mirrors. At first, it was fun—he made faces at his reflections, laughed at how the mirrors made him look taller, shorter, or stretched out like a piece of gum. But then, something felt wrong. He glanced at one mirror and saw his reflection staring back at him… only, it wasn’t quite right.

The reflection smiled, but Ben hadn’t smiled. It winked when Ben hadn’t blinked. He stepped back, his heart pounding, and watched as the reflection’s eyes glowed faintly, like embers in the dark.

Ben turned to leave, but the exit was gone. In its place was another mirror, and another, each one showing his reflection doing things he wasn’t doing—grinning eerily, beckoning him closer, or worse, simply staring with eyes that were far too empty.

He ran. The walls of the funhouse seemed to shift and change, the mirrors multiplying, trapping him in a maze of reflections that weren’t his own. The laughter he heard now wasn’t playful but sinister, echoing around him like a chorus of unseen voices.

“Mom! Dad!” he shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the mirrors. The reflections whispered his name, their voices overlapping, filling his ears.

Just as Ben thought he might never escape, he stumbled into an opening—a door that hadn’t been there before. He burst through it, gasping for air, and found himself outside again. The carnival looked different now, darker, and the laughter that filled the air seemed more like a warning than an invitation.

He spotted his parents by the carousel and ran to them. “We have to leave! Now!”

His parents turned to him, their faces pale, their eyes wide. They had seen something too. “What’s going on here?” his dad asked, his voice trembling.

“We need to go,” Ben insisted, pulling at his mom’s arm.

They hurried back to the car, the carnival around them shifting, the tents seeming to sway and move as if they were alive. The strange music continued to play, but now it was warped, like an old record spinning too slowly.

As they sped away, Ben looked back through the rear window. The carnival was still there, standing tall against the darkening sky, its lights flickering like distant stars. But something was different.

In the far distance, barely visible, was a figure standing near the entrance. It was tall, dressed in a dark suit with a top hat, and its eyes glowed like the embers in the funhouse mirrors. The figure raised a hand, waving slowly as if saying goodbye—or perhaps, see you again soon.

Ben shivered and turned away, his heart still pounding in his chest. His parents were silent, and the car’s tires hummed on the road as they sped away from the strange carnival that had appeared out of nowhere.

But as they drove farther and farther, Ben reached into his pocket and felt something cold and metallic. He pulled it out, his breath catching in his throat.

It was an old ticket stub, faded and worn, with the words “Dark Carnival” printed in swirling letters. He stared at it, a chill running down his spine.

He didn’t say anything, just slipped the ticket back into his pocket, hoping it was all just a bad dream. But as they drove into the night, Ben couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere out there, the Dark Carnival was waiting—waiting for the next family to wander in, and for the next story to begin.