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Remembering the Carnival of Lost Souls

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Horseman

The horse

Violently ripped from His past, fractured life, where He spent what seemed like an eternity twirling majestically in a nauseating cycle of flashing neon and violent colour.

This carousel Horse escaped the maddening hell of relentless, looping, warped circus music and now resides within the Outrageous Cabaret Bar in England.

His personal fresh hell now consists of endless 80s pop songs and the UK Top 40 on repeat, night after night, as he is ‘ridden’ by drunken louts who develop a vague feeling of unease immediately after mounting Him.

What were the horrors that befell the fairground, which caused Him to be torn so viciously from His garish prison of gear work galloping? The only evidence that remains of this time is a jagged, badly painted over hole from the evident dismantling of... something. Maybe it is this mysterious air that evokes faint terror in the hearts of the club’s patrons.

Whatever the reason, if you find yourself in close proximity to Him and gripped with anxiety and paranoia, do not ignore it. Give in. For there is an abysmal fate that the Horse delivers to those who disrespect and mistreat Him, or simply dare to ignore His silent but nevertheless ever-present warning of a time almost forgotten.

It is His own private reel of madness and abysmal despair. Imagine yourself trapped in an hall of mirrors with no end. Darting fluorescent lights, vauge figures twisting at the corner of your vision, and that relentless, jarring music closing in on your loosening sanity.

Take some time out of your night to pass this Horse's way. Greet Him as if He were an old friend with which you have been longing to speak. Pat His proud mane, or offer a heartfelt salute. But be warned. You must ensure sincerity in your respects; for this Horse can create windows into the soul, and he does not take kindly to superlicious sycophants.

Doot-doot-doodle-oodle-oot-doot-doo-doo...

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