Carousel Shadows: :carousel_horse: 11

Erin set up her camera, adjusting the angle until it perfectly framed her in the dimly lit room. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she hit the record button. The Carousel Killer was no longer just another mystery she covered—this was personal now.

Erin:

“Hello, Eeries. Welcome back to my channel. Today’s video is one I never thought I’d have to make, and honestly, I wish I didn’t have to.” She paused, her voice faltering for a moment. “The Carousel Killer has taken someone close to me—a dear friend, Tia Turner. Along with another victim, Bianca Hunter. My heart is shattered, and I’m still trying to process what’s happened. I can’t believe Tia’s name is now added to his growing list of victims.”

“I just don’t understand. What are his intentions? How many more innocent lives does he plan to take before this nightmare ends? It’s ridiculous and terrifying that, despite everything, we’re no closer to stopping him.”

“We have so much footage of him. He’s brazen—waving at CCTV cameras, taunting us. He’s even danced in front of them. And then there’s the children’s song, ‘Ring Around the Rosie,’ that he’s been sending to police officers, detectives, the victims’ families, and their friends. It’s twisted.”

Erin’s voice cracked slightly, but she kept going.

“As if that’s not enough, he’s sending videos of the victims. Videos of him with them—laughing, dancing, even…” She swallowed hard. ”…moments that feel intimate, like he’s mocking the people who loved them. It’s horrifying.”

Her frustration bubbled over.

“How is he still out there? How has he not slipped up, not even once? There’s no suspects, no evidence—just nothing. It’s infuriating and terrifying to think someone can orchestrate all of this without leaving a single clue behind.”

Erin sat back, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She looked directly into the camera, her eyes pleading.

“I need your help, Eeries. We need to stay vigilant. If you know something, anything, please come forward. And for everyone else, let’s pray for the victims, for their families, and for this nightmare to end.”

“That’s all for today, Eeries. Stay safe out there. I’ll see you next time.”

With a shaky hand, she ended the recording and leaned back in her chair, staring at the darkened screen. Tia’s laugh echoed in her memory, and for the first time since she started her channel, Erin wondered if her obsession with uncovering the truth had drawn her too close to a monster.

Erin climbed the stairs to Kieran’s apartment, her mind racing with thoughts about the Carousel Killer. When she reached his door, she rang the bell. Moments later, Kieran opened it, his expression softening when he saw her distressed face. Without a word, she stepped inside and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Kieran: Babe, what’s wrong?

Erin rested her head on his chest, her voice barely above a whisper.

Erin: I’m so tired of all this, Key. I want it to stop. I can’t take it anymore.

Kieran: Everyone wants it to stop, Erin. But hey, look on the bright side—spring break just started, and the killer seems to be laying low. Maybe he’s done.

Erin: You really think this is over? No, Kieran. As soon as university starts up again, he’s going to strike. I know it. Kieran… I have a feeling he’s not doing this alone. There’s a pattern I’ve noticed in the victims who’ve been found so far.

Kieran laughed, a sound that immediately sent irritation flaring through her. She stepped back, her arms falling to her sides.

Erin: Why are you laughing? I’m being serious, Kieran.

He smirked, shaking his head.

Kieran: Because you’re coming up with ideas even the police haven’t. Don’t waste your time with wild speculations, sweetie.

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a defeated sigh.

“You’re right,” she muttered, but her mind refused to let go of the nagging thought. Maybe I should go to the police and tell them what I’ve noticed about the three victims, she thought to herself.

Kieran walked over to his workbench, where a half-finished sculpture sat among scattered tools and clay.

“Anyway,” he said casually, “I’ve been sculpting more lately. It’s been helping me stay focused.”

Erin: Did you sculpt Tia?

Kieran glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

Kieran: No, Erin. You told me not to, so I didn’t.

Her tense posture relaxed slightly.

“Good,” she replied, though her gaze lingered on the sculptures lining his shelves.

As Kieran turned back to his workbench, Erin’s mind raced. Her instincts told her something wasn’t right—about the case, about Kieran’s dismissive attitude, and about the way his laugh had sounded. She decided she would go to the police tomorrow. Whether or not Kieran believed her, she couldn’t sit back and do nothing anymore.

Erin wandered over to the sculpture of Bianca that stood nearby. The details were hauntingly lifelike, each curve and feature captured with eerie precision. Kneeling down to examine it closer, she froze.

There, on the left side of the sculpture’s body, was a birthmark—stretching from mid-thigh to her waist.

Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head to look at Kieran, who was standing a few feet away, watching her silently.

Erin: How did you know about her birthmark? The authorities never mentioned it to the public.

Kieran’s expression remained calm, almost indifferent.

Kieran: “She was one of my models,” he said simply.

Erin stood up abruptly, her heart pounding.

Erin: “You’re lying,” she accused, her voice trembling.

Kieran shrugged, his tone measured.

Kieran: I’m not. I asked her if I could sculpt her, and she agreed. It’s as simple as that.

Erin stared at him, her mind racing. His explanation felt too convenient, too rehearsed.

Erin: Why would you lie about something like this, Kieran?

He stepped closer, his face unreadable.

Kieran: I’m not lying, Erin. It’s just art. Nothing more.

The weight of his gaze unsettled her. She took a step back, shaking her head.

Erin: I—I need to go.

Kieran’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained neutral.

Kieran: Alright. Go get some rest. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.

Erin nodded, avoiding his eyes.

Erin: Yeah. I’ll see you.

She hurried out of his apartment, her thoughts swirling in confusion and unease. As she walked down the dimly lit corridor, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. How had Kieran known about the birthmark? The detail was too specific, too intimate.

Once she was outside, Erin stopped and took a deep breath. The cool air did little to calm her nerves. She glanced back at the building, her stomach twisting in knots. Kieran’s explanation might have been plausible, but her instincts told her otherwise.

She resolved to dig deeper into his connection to Bianca. If there was any truth to her suspicions, she couldn’t afford to ignore it.

The streets were bustling with activity as Erin strolled, her thoughts swirling with a mix of fear and determination. She stopped at an ice cream truck, craving a moment of normalcy.

Erin: “One vanilla cone, please,” she said, offering the vendor a small smile.

As she waited, she glanced to her right and froze. A familiar face stood nearby, leaning casually against the truck. It was Antonio, one of Kieran’s closest friends. She took her ice cream and walked past him.

Antonio: Hey, Rin.

His casual tone sent a shiver down her spine. Erin turned slightly, clutching her cone.

Erin: “Hi,” she replied curtly, not meeting his eyes.

Antonio stepped closer, his expression friendly but with an edge she couldn’t quite place.

Antonio: You’re doing great with those videos. The last one? Awesome. But let’s be real—you’re not actually helping anyone.

Erin took a small bite of her ice cream, her voice steady but cold.

Erin: I don’t care.

Without another word, she began walking away, but Antonio matched her pace, his presence unnerving.

Antonio: Kieran’s been talking about breaking up with you, you know.

Erin: Why?

Antonio shrugged, his tone casual but his words cutting.

Antonio: Because you’re too obsessed with this killer nonsense. You’re ignoring him, Erin. He’s feeling like you care more about this than your relationship.

Erin: That doesn’t make sense. He’s the one encouraging me to keep doing this. If he had a problem, he’d say something.

Antonio’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Antonio: Kieran wouldn’t tell you, Rin. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But maybe it’s time for you to stop this. Forget the killer. Move on with your life.

Erin narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the ice cream cone.

Erin: I’m not stopping. I’m getting closer to finding out who these killers are.

Antonio stopped walking, his face hardening for a split second before he forced a smile. His sudden stillness unnerved her.

Erin’s heart raced as her instincts screamed at her. She didn’t wait to see what he’d say next. Dropping the cone, she bolted.

Antonio called after her, but she didn’t stop. Her breaths came fast as she darted into a nearby convenience store, the bright fluorescent lights momentarily disorienting her.

Pulling out her phone with trembling hands, she dialed 911 and pressed the phone to her ear.

Dispatcher: 911, what’s your emergency?

Erin: This is Erin Martin. I think I know who the Carousel Killers are.”

The dispatcher’s tone became sharper.

Dispatcher: Killers? As in plural?

Erin glanced nervously out the store’s window, scanning for Antonio.

Erin: Yes, killers. I know them personally. They’re—

The call cut off abruptly.

Dispatcher: Hello? Miss Erin? Are you there?

Since that fateful night, Erin Martin had vanished without a trace. Her disappearance sent shockwaves through the community, dominating news headlines and social media. The chilling footage captured on CCTV was replayed endlessly, each frame a haunting reminder of her last known moments.

The grainy video showed Erin sprinting down the bustling street, her face pale with fear. She darted into a brightly lit convenience store. The footage captured her pulling out her phone and making a call—presumably to 911.

But then, something unexplainable happened.

The store’s CCTV cameras suddenly cut to static. For a few seconds, the screen remained blank before flickering back to life. When it did, Erin was gone. The phone she had been holding lay abandoned on the tiled floor.

Authorities later confirmed that Erin’s 911 call had been disconnected mid-sentence.

“This is Erin Martin. I think I know who the Carousel Killers are,” she had said before the line went dead. Attempts by the dispatcher to reconnect were futile.

The abrupt disappearance of both Erin and the store’s CCTV feed raised countless questions but yielded no answers. Investigators combed through the store for clues, but there was no sign of a struggle, no witnesses who saw what happened next, and no usable fingerprints other than Erin’s.

Speculation ran wild. Some believed Erin had been silenced because she was too close to uncovering the truth. Others theorized that someone inside the store was working with the Carousel Killers, ensuring she never left alive.

The footage only added to the unsettling mystery. The cameras outside the store showed a dark van parked nearby, its driver obscured. Moments after the store’s CCTV cut out, the van was seen speeding away, disappearing into the night.

Erin’s friends, family, and devoted followers on her true crime channel were devastated.

“She was so close to uncovering the killers,” one commenter wrote under her last video.

“They silenced her because she knew too much,” speculated another.

Despite the ongoing investigation, leads were scarce. Erin Martin had become the Carousel Killers’ most high-profile victim, and her disappearance only deepened the public’s fear. The question on everyone’s mind remained unanswered: What had Erin discovered that night, and why did it cost her everything?

The police recently made a shocking revelation in the ongoing investigation into Erin Martin’s disappearance: a series of cryptic and chilling text messages exchanged between Erin and an unidentified individual who claimed to be the Carousel Killer.

The messages painted a horrifying picture. The mysterious sender had been manipulating Erin for months, coercing her into continuing her coverage of the Carousel Killer on her true crime channel. In one particularly alarming message, the sender explicitly threatened Erin’s loved ones:

“Keep talking about me, or your friends will pay the price.”

It was also revealed that the murder of Tia Turner, one of Erin’s closest friends, wasn’t just a random act of violence. According to the texts, the killer targeted Tia because he “didn’t like” one of Erin’s videos. The sinister implication sent shivers through the community, as it became clear that Erin had been living in fear, forced to comply with the whims of a killer while silently carrying the weight of her guilt and terror.

The news changed public perception overnight. While some had previously criticized Erin for “obsessing” over the case, these revelations sparked an outpouring of sympathy. Social media was flooded with messages of :

“Erin was a victim, too, and we failed to see it,” one post read.

“She was fighting for justice, all while being threatened by the very monster she was exposing,” said another.

Despite these revelations, Erin’s fate remains uncertain. Her body has yet to be found, leaving a glimmer of hope that she might still be alive. Investigators now believe Erin may be held captive, possibly alongside other missing victims: Merli, Penelope, and Albina.

Authorities are treating the possibility of her survival as a top priority. A nationwide search has been launched, and task forces are working around the clock to trace the killer’s identity and location. However, with each ing day, the public grows more anxious, fearing that the Carousel Killer might escalate his crimes or vanish without a trace.

The release of Erin’s texts has also raised new questions: Who was the mysterious person behind those messages? How was he able to track Erin so closely, and why did he choose her as his unwilling accomplice?

For now, Erin’s disappearance serves as a grim reminder of the lengths the Carousel Killer is willing to go to maintain his reign of terror. The world watches, waits, and hopes that Erin and the other victims can be rescued before it’s too late.

In a shocking escalation, 14 more victims were discovered, their deaths bearing the same eerie hallmarks of the Carousel Killer’s twisted methods. The gruesome revelation has left the community reeling and questioning the capabilities of law enforcement. Whispers of doubt have spread like wildfire, with many openly speculating that the police might have quietly given up on capturing the killers. The situation feels surreal, almost as if the perpetrators are untouchable, always one step ahead of the authorities.

The unsettling reality is that these killers are disturbingly adept at their craft. They appear to possess an uncanny ability to earn their victims’ trust. Witness s and circumstantial evidence have led to a chilling theory: the killers might be exceptionally attractive, charming, and charismatic. Experts believe these traits, combined with a talent for manipulation, make them seem approachable, even friendly, to their unsuspecting victims. Young men and women, drawn in by the killers’ alluring personas, willingly follow them—only to meet a tragic end.

The public’s fear and frustration have reached a boiling point. Social media is flooded with heated debates and grim warnings.

“How can we protect ourselves when the killers blend in so well?” one posted.

“They could be anyone—a friend, a classmate, or even a neighbor,” said another.

Girls, in particular, have become more cautious in the wake of Erin Martin’s disappearance. Self-defense classes are in high demand, and sales of personal safety devices like pepper spray and alarms have skyrocketed. Parents are implementing stricter curfews, and many young people are now wary of strangers, even those who seem perfectly harmless.

Yet, despite heightened vigilance, the killers continue to strike. Each new victim sends shockwaves through the community, deepening the sense of helplessness and despair. The victims’ profiles reveal no obvious patterns, making it nearly impossible to predict who might be targeted next. From university students to young professionals, the killers seem to operate without discrimination, further fueling the speculation that their charm is their most lethal weapon.

The grim statistics are sobering. Since Erin’s disappearance, the killers’ activities have intensified, claiming lives at an alarming rate. Experts theorize this could be a deliberate move to instill fear and maintain control.

“This isn’t just about murder,” one criminologist explained in a televised interview.

“It’s about power and manipulation. They thrive on the fear they create.”

Despite the public outcry, progress in the investigation remains elusive. Law enforcement officials insist they are working tirelessly to track down the perpetrators, but with no arrests or leads, their words offer little comfort.

The community is left grappling with a terrifying question: How do you fight back against predators who can disguise themselves as allies? For now, the only certainty is that the killers are still out there, and they are far from finished.

Sophie sat alone at a quaint café near her apartment building, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. The world outside seemed to bustle on as usual, but for her, everything felt muted. The weight of recent events bore down on her, making it impossible to find even a sliver of peace. Erin’s disappearance and the ongoing terror of the killers dominated every conversation, every news headline. She couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard she tried.

Her fingers scrolled through her phone’s camera roll, lingering on photos of happier times. Pictures of her with Erin and Tia filled the screen—laughing at the beach, huddled together at movie nights, and celebrating birthdays. She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. They were gone. Two of her closest friends, taken by the monsters haunting their lives.

As she stared at the screen, lost in thought, a voice interrupted her.

??: “I really miss Tia.”

Startled, Sophie turned to see a man standing behind her. His dark eyes locked onto hers with an unsettling intensity.

Sophie: Excuse me?

The man stepped closer, his lips curling into a smirk.

Hal: She was fine—inside and out. A real beauty. And, well, let’s just say she was… amazing in bed too.

Sophie froze, her stomach twisting in disgust.

Sophie: Who are you?

Hal: I’m Hal. Tia’s… well, let’s just say I was a guy who knew her pretty well. Had a huge crush on her, but she was always hung up on that Caleb guy. Not that it stopped her from spending a few nights with me.

Before Sophie could respond, Hal casually slid into the seat across from her.

Hal: You’re hot too. Actually, hotter than Tia. Are you taken?

Sophie: No, but I’m not looking for anything right now.

Hal: Why not? Come on, you’re too gorgeous to be single.

Sophie: Because I’m not ready, that’s why.

Hal: Yeah, you’re not ready. How sad. But how about this—can I sleep with you?

Sophie: What? No. I don’t do one-night stands either.

Hal: It wouldn’t be a one-time thing. But seriously, why are you out here all alone? Aren’t you scared of the killers?

Sophie glanced around, suddenly more aware of her surroundings.

Sophie: I am, but it’s not that late.

Hal: Those killers don’t care about time, sweetie. They’ll come for you anytime, anywhere.

The casual way he spoke about it sent a chill down her spine.

Sophie: You’re right. I should get going.

Hal: Not so fast—I want your number!

Sophie: I’m not interested. Sorry.

Hal leaned forward, undeterred.

Hal: Why not? I’m hot, right? Girls love hot guys.

Sophie: You’re good-looking, sure, but I’m still not interested. My friend is coming to meet me anyway.

Hal’s eyes lit up with interest.

Hal: Friend? Is she pretty too?

Sophie: He’s a guy.

Hal: Oh, I see. Is he here already?

Sophie: Not yet, but I’ll wait for him outside.

Hal blocked her path as she stood up.

Hal: You’ve got time to give me your number.

Sophie’s patience snapped.

Sophie: No means no. Stop acting like a child!

Hal: But—

Before he could finish, the café door opened, and Leo walked in. His sharp gaze immediately locked onto the scene. He strode over, his presence commanding.

Leo: Hey.

Sophie: Hi.

Hal turned to face Leo, sizing him up.

Hal: Hey, man. I better get going. Sorry for bothering her—uh, what’s your name again?

Leo: You don’t need to know. Leave.

Hal chuckled nervously.

Hal: Spicy. Alright, alright. Bye for now.

With that, Hal sauntered out of the café, glancing back once before disappearing into the crowd.

Leo turned to Sophie, concern etched across his face.

Leo: Are you okay?

Sophie nodded, though her hands trembled slightly.

Sophie: Yeah. I’m just glad you showed up when you did. He was being really pushy.

Leo frowned, his jaw tightening.

Leo: I told you to wait for me at your place, but no—you just had to come here alone.

Sophie lowered her gaze, feeling a pang of guilt.

Sophie: I’m sorry. I’ll listen next time.

Leo sighed, his expression softening.

Leo: Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.

Sophie nodded, grateful for his presence as they left the café together. But as they walked away, her thoughts lingered on Hal’s words and the unsettling encounter. Something about him didn’t sit right, and a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that she hadn’t seen the last of him.