The Carnival returned tonight. I swear I heard the calliope before I saw the lights.
Every mirror in the house fogged at once. The air tasted like sugar and thunder.
Ronan warned me not to go, but curiosity wears a crown of its own.
The tents were wrong this time—stitched from shadows, humming with otherworldly rhythm.
When I looked into one, I didn’t see myself. I saw six women—fire, frost, storm, silence, soul, and shadow—standing hand-in-hand before a sky of breaking glass.
Then the mirror cracked and they were gone.
Reader Prompt: If you glimpsed a version of yourself from another world, would you step through or turn away?
Published on October 28, 2025 17:30