The Ghost Train Demon

The cart brought the boys back out onto the original entry platform they had used earlier when they first came aboard as a squad of five. They all breathed a sigh of relief. There was definitely one major problem the trio noticed when they emerged; it was deathly quiet. There was nobody left in the carnival. A car moved on the roads surrounding the park, but there was definitely no obvious signs that there was anyone around. “What time do you make it, Dave?” Garth asked after a brief silence, through tears and a large lump in his throat. As soon as the bars lifted they stepped out, weak at the knees from the exhausted adrenaline. Dave lifted a weakened, quivering arm to his face. “It’s half one, according to my watch.” All they could do with their remaining energy was to climb down from the platform. They looked around, through tears, trying to rearrange their minds and figure out what to do next. Dave slumped to the ground, resting against one of the posts elevating the platform. Garth joined him. So many questions spun round in their heads, making them all nauseous. Had they really woken a sleeping demon? Had they really just seen two of their best friends get murdered in cold blood? Why had they been chosen to wake it? Had they even been chosen, or were they in completely the wrong place at the wrong time? What could they do? Where would they go next? Would anyone even believe anything came out with? They couldn’t go to the police. They simply wouldn’t believe their story. So that was already a couple of questions answered.