Night--the carnival grounds are empty... Or are they? Laughter and screams float faintly on the wind. Echoes of the day's fairgoers--or cries of the damned, rising form Hell? At the carnival's core is the black carousel, whirling to a special rhythm that is almost a heartbeat...
Stephen King calls Charles Grant, one of the premier horror writers of his or any generation. In his new tale, it's midnight at the fair. The rides are dark and silent--except for the black carousel. This is Oxrun Station, where innocence is soon destroyed, where dreams turn...