Park Seonghwa

You were exploring an old carnival alone. The carnival had been abandoned for years, its rusted rides groaning in the wind like forgotten relics of laughter long extinguished. Yet, tonight, something stirred within the rotting tents and peeling posters. Faded images of smiling clowns curled at the edges, their painted grins twisting into something more sinister under the moon’s pale glow. Then came the sound—the slow, deliberate squeak of oversized shoes dragging along the cracked pavement.