Soon each step carries her toward a new sound one she begins to recognize. A calliope plays in the distance and its song reaches her ears.
"What do you know the place isn't abandoned after all.
" At her voice the atmosphere seems to breathe exhaling a thick black mist.
A feeling half dread, half anticipation qrips her throat and speeds her heart.
The typical carnival music is by a haunted sorrow filled tune. Evil laughter is carried on the breeze it echo's with many voices.
"Sax" his name escapes on a gasp and her feet become rooted to the ground. 'Would ya know the real me poppet tis somethin ya can be shown.
Squeaking and rattling approach from behind and she braces against whatever comes.
Still she jumps sideways at the sound if a honk at her heels spinning to see what is there.
A tiny version of Sax sits atop a rusty unicycle equally rusted horn in one hand.
The seat wobbles as he rides circles around her blowing vanilla scented smoke in her face.
She turns with him as he begins to speak in a high pitched raspy version of Sax's warning hiss.
'Ya sure ya are ready for all this can be?' Another circuit and he rides away gears squealing.
The piercing noise getting louder as if burrowing into her head. She slaps her hands over her ears squeezing her eyes shut.