[Distorted carnival organ. Crackling speakers. A crowd that might be real or might be feedback. A voice — smooth, processed, glitching at the edges.]
---
[The Maw:]
"Ladies and gentlemen…"
[Static pop.]
"Boys and girls…"
[A low rumble.]
"Things that crawl out of the sand when the lights go down and the stars forget your name…"
[The organ swells. Distorted. Wrong.]
"Welcome."
[A long pause. The sound of a smile.]
"Welcome to the Carnival of Violence."
---
[Footsteps on sawdust. A tent flap snapping in the wind.]
"I am your host. Your guide. Your hunger. The thing at the center of the tent that you can't look away from no matter how much your body tells you to run."
[Crowd noise — distant, layered, maybe screaming, maybe laughing.]
"They call me The Maw."
[A wet, grinding sound. Like teeth.]
"And tonight… tonight, we feast."
---
[The organ glitches. Stutters. Reforms.]
"Now. Let me tell you what you're gonna see. What you're gonna hear. What you're gonna feel when the lights go red and the sawdust starts to taste like copper."
[He laughs. Low. Warm. Wrong.]
"You're gonna meet the ones who build the bombs. The ones who throw them. The ones who laugh when they go off. You're gonna meet the woman who owns your wallet, your liver, and your heart. Probably in that order."
[Beat.]
"You're gonna meet the saddest robot in the galaxy. He's gonna try to help. He's gonna fail. You're gonna laugh. Don't feel bad. He's used to it."
[The organ drops to a single, repeating note.]
“And at the center of it all… the ride. The one that never stops. The one that spins and spins and spins until you don't know where the carnival ends and you begin. The carousel. The chaos. The beautiful, endless, hungry thing that lives in the chest of this planet and calls itself…"
[Pause.]
"…well. You'll see."
---
[Footsteps. Closer. The sound of a microphone being adjusted.]
"Now. Before we begin. Before the lights go down and the teeth come out. I need to know…"
[Static. His voice drops. Intimate. Almost kind.]
"…are you scared?"
[Silence.]
"Good."
[The organ explodes into a distorted, chaotic swell. Laughter — layered, glitched, endless. The sound of a crowd roaring that might just be feedback. Might just be him.]
AsheTheHyena
