Weekly Fiction Writing Prompt Contest Winner #2

An image of a County Fair at dusk

We are excited to announce the winner of last week’s writing contest titled, The County Fair. Writers were asked to submit an entry based around these three story elements:
Character: A young woman who has lived a conventional life in a small, Midwestern town
Setting: The county fair, the biggest event of the year
Problem: She discovers a secret surrounding the carnival workers

The winning entry belongs to Coty Poynter! Congratulations Coty, your entry gave us chills.

[line]

The County Fair

By Coty Poynter

The day was strange. After nearly a week of rain, the weather had finally broke. The sun hung hot and high in the atmosphere. Clouds seemed to have been chased away by the intense light as Abigail worked away at the tent restraints.

It was the first day of the Kent County Fair, and Abigail’s first time working the large event. This year was to be the biggest turnout yet. It was the Bicentennial celebration of the town since it had been rebuilt following the fire of 1988, which occurred during the drought of 1988. The fire started, not because of the drought, but because of a man who set fire to his wife’s apartment complex that led to an explosion that led to the town’s consumption by flames. The land was so dry and water so scarce that the firemen of Ken County were powerless against it. People were forced to abandon their homes and wait for the fire to end. Abigail’s family was among the victims. Though she was young, she has scars along her arms that remind her of the horrific even and how grateful she is to be alive.

As her feet sank into the wet ground, Abigail worked away at securing the canvas tent to the ground. It was early in the morning, but already the heat was blazing hot. Sweat poured from her brow and into her eyes. The salt stinging them and the small cut on her cheek. The fair wouldn’t be open for a few hours, but she had much work to finish. There was an eerie chill, however, that visited her from time to time.

Being on the far side of the fair, there was only her and one other fairground worker around her. He was an older man, quite fragile looking. His back arched down harshly and the glasses he wore were tinged with dust. The patchwork hair that covered his head seemed like it was carelessly placed on him; a fur crown for a fool. The suspenders he wore were dirty and the shoes on his feet were worn and falling to pieces. Abigail had not formally introduced herself to the man. She had tried, but he only stared at her with eyes that seemed lifeless.

She took the heel of her boot and pressed her weight onto the stake which was tied to the canvas of the tent. It sunk deep into the wet ground on an angle. Abigail gave the stake a stern pull then diverted her eyes to the old man. He was standing next to his antiques table without any shade. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, but his staring at Abigail made her itch under her skin. She walked inside her tent and drew the front flaps open, then closed the right side so that she could hideaway from the public when she needed, and stay out of the old man’s line of sight.

The grand opening for the county fair was drawing near. Banners with writings of hope and prayers for the lost hung throughout the fairgrounds. Abigail walked around, observing all the other vendor tents that were set up. She peaked inside a few of the tents, searching for the owners, without any luck. The fairgrounds appeared to be abandoned, except for the old man and herself.

In her searches, Abigail ran across a house of mirrors. As a young girl, she had always loved going through and trying to find her way out of the illusions. It was soothing to her knowing she could escape at times the spaces that seem impossible to escape. With an hour yet to waste, she entered the funhouse and began navigating her way through the labyrinth of mirrors.

Becoming lost in a realm of infinite space that is stretched mirror to mirror, time becomes displaced. Abigail was unsure how long she had been trying to find the exit to the funhouse. It didn’t feel much longer than twenty minutes or so, but she was disorientated and it was hard to tell. Turning a corner, she found herself in a room that was encircled with mirrors, arranged in a way that she was inside each of them. The exit laid in front of her within one of the mirrors. The old man stood centered in the exit. Abigail felt pangs of dread in her bones. People passed by the old man as he walked towards her in the mirrors. With each step the old man took towards her, the room seemed to heat. The burn scars on her arm became hot and irritated. The smell of burning wood and hair filled the room. The old man stood holding a paper in Abigail’s face. The heat was unbearable, but the paper headline was far worse.

[line]

For more of Coty’s work, follow him on Twitter @CotyMPoynt or on Instagram at cotypoytner.

For those of you who missed out on last week’s contest, check out our active contest or sign up for our newsletter for the latest in news and updates.