<b>Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve</b><br/><br/>Johnâs editor told him to go investigate the old rundown carnival grounds. People have been complaining about it, so an article was deemed necessary. Anything to make people by a paper, really. People loved a story about an eyesore that the township wouldnât do anything about. It wasnât too important, however, because he was given the job. While an excellent investigator and photojournalist, John lacked the aggressive drive needed to advance in his field. The editors would never give him a high-profile scoop, and when he tried investigating them on his own he was stonewalled by the fact that no one had heard of him, and he didnât have enough contacts to get around that. So he was stuck with crap stories. Eyesores, research articles on popular topics that were just on their way out of the highlight, and other âcat in treeâ kind of things. Small things that appealed to a small demographic. At least someone was interested on what he had to write.<br/><br/>So he got into his Volkswagen and drove out to the old carnival site with his camera and notebook sitting on the passenger seat. He parked along the side of the road by the clearing and walked across the dew covered grass. Autumn was just around the corner, and the mornings were growing cold. He wore a wool coat over his untucked shirt, and the wet grass made his shoes wet, and dampened the hems of his blue jeans. Half-way to the tents and the apparent entrance of the carnival, and brought the cameraâs viewfinder up to his eye to take a few shots of the whole thing. Even in the daytime it looked haunting and unsettling. In the shadow of those sycamores it looked like it was itâs only dark place. A little circle of hell on earth. It couldnât be that bad, he mused and walked forward. When he got to the tipped ticket stand he searched around until he found a ticket stub. It was old, and the rain had made the ink fade considerably, but he could read the words Glass Moon in black ink against the red paper. He wished the other side included the address of the company who made the tickets, but all he found was a blob of purple-blue ink as the water and the paper had pulled the colors of the ink apart. He could have called the company and gotten some information out of them. Maybe, if they bothered to talk to him. Regardless, he set the stub on the ground where he found it and took a picture, taking a few other photos of the entrance before moving on.<br/>He spent two hours canvassing the carnival, taking pictures inside and out of the large tent, of the concession stands, the games, everything. He was very through. He made notes in his book before walking back to his car before backing up and heading back the way he came. At the office he made a few calls<br/>First was the township building in regards to the carnival and what they were planning to do -if anything-  about it.<br/><br/>âWeâre a small township and weâre currently busy with other projects. We tried hiring third party contractors to tear it down for us, but no one will touch it,â said the voice on the other side of the phone. John wrote it down in the notebook.<br/><br/>âWhyâs that?â he asked, head turned, looking to the side like most people do, like the subconscious parts of their brain are telling them to face the person that was talking to them in their ear.<br/><br/>âThey said it was haunted. Some bullshit story that I donât remember. Anyway, Iâm very busy Mr. James, so if you donât have anymore questions Iâll have to end this call.â The female voice at the other end was staring to get annoyed.<br/><br/>âOh, if you could give me the number of the contractor that told you it was haunted, that would be great.â<br/><br/>The line went dead.<i>Great, another stonewall</i>, he thought before hanging up the phone. He did a search for local contractors and started doing some legwork, calling all of them until he found the one who said the carnival was haunted.<br/><br/>âCan you tell me a bit about the story, please?â<br/><br/>âWho did you say you were again?â asked the rough masculine voice on the other end.<br/><br/>âJohn James from the Milksburg Lantern,â John said clearly. He knew it was a kind of identity check. Anyone could say they were from the paper, but that didnât mean they wouldnât forget their cover if asked a second time.<br/><br/>âRight. Well, the carnival comes alive during the new moon. People start flocking to it with no control over what they are doing. And they never come back.â The man seemed very serious, very somber.<br/><br/>John didnât believe it, but he had tact, so in a respectful voice he said, âThank you for your time,â and hung up. He turned in his chair to face his computer and powered it on. It took a moment to load but soon he was in the paperâs database, searching for anything about the carnival. There were articles dating back to the late 1800s around the time when the town first started about a Glass Moon carnival. It was pretty standard stuff, talking about the attractions and what not. Though, there were a handful of smaller articles later in the early 1900s about the carnival being in town. He searched the rest of the papers and found a few missing persons notes. He e-mailed everything he found to himself and wrote a few things down in the Moleskin notebook.<br/><br/>He ate lunch at a coffee shop and pulled up his emails on his little netbook. Between sips of his rich black coffee and bites from his sandwich he read through the scans of the papers. He made notes that the two issues that had missing persons reports  also stated that both instances the carnival was open on a new moon. He checked his calendar and chills ran down his spine and his body injected a small spike of adrenaline into his blood when he saw a circle and the words âNew Moonâ on the current dayâs square. It would seem that his luck was turning good. Or worse. But more exciting regardless.<br/><br/>Later, after the sun had set and the beautiful new moon shed it silver light on the world, he got back into his Volkswagen and drove back out to the carnival, his mind racing as well as his heart, wondering exactly what he would see.