Every three years, Carnival De Novis came to the village. Monsterous horses, far larger than any taxidermied elephant exhibited at the museum, appeared over the horizon. Carts and carriages would shadow them, painted in the richest plum and deepest burgundy, their windows black, lace curtains drawn tight. The mysterious convoy would trundle quietly through the streets, the old wagon wheels churning up the sandy roads. Flakes of straw sprayed out in glittering confetti, showering the head and shoulders of the expectant crowd in gold. The path to the carnival was always easy to find. After dusk, when the moon glazed the town in a sheen of crushed pearls and the autumnal sea air nipped at children’s noses, Carnival De Novis opened its ivy-wound gates. All who desired it were welcome; the only rule was: Have fun. And fun they had... Hung in swooping festoons, the glow of hundreds of sea-blue lanterns lit up the star-shaped boundary of the carnival. Flavourful foods and floral incense called those enticingly to the first point of the Carnival star. Sweet carts offered arrays of colourful sugared mice and peppermint bullseyes, the round hard-boiled sweets a hypnotising swirl of black and white. Hog roasts sizzled and spat over large open fires, orange flames biting the succulent browning skin as the carcass spun, rotating on a spit. Heat and sticky grease fell heavy in the air, chasing away the chill from bones and filling the gnawing stomachs of all. Stalls laden with jars of aromatic spices and sprigs of green herbs offered a refreshing respite and a cleansing of the palate—although most items on display were not cut for eating. The second point of the Carnival gave way to a plethora of games. Black barrels hemmed and bolted with gold were positioned into a halo. Eager villagers queued behind, watching as those in front dunked their heads into the inky water. Hands tied, gaping mouths sucked at the bobbing fruit like hungry fish, the curse of the water numbing their skin and turning their lips blue. Most came away empty-handed—or mouthed—as players were careful not to damage the apple’s flawless skin or risk the chance of expelling the fleshy white poison beneath. Those brave enough to pull an apple from the water and not die received a prize of a goose-down quilt. Hidden shyly in the shadow of the bobbing barrels, seven tall sticks propped up seven identical human skulls. A tin bucket rested before the macabre display, jammed brim full with palm-sized balls ready to throw. Gnarled bushes twisted the labyrinth of the third point of Carnival De Novis. Pathways of dark lead far into the unknown... Footsteps pounded behind unseen... It was a place impossible to miss... yet so easy to forget. The fourth point hosted a collection of performed entertainment. Figures stood on stages of stone. Masks of animal skulls disguised their faces, their bodies shrouded in cloaks of black. Red fire... White doves... And long, snaking vines... Would burst magically from their fingertips. Blood dripped from a coffin-shaped box. Closed padlocks glinting greedily from either end, its companion, a rusted saw, waited readily for the cut flesh of its next victim. At the fifth and final point of the star, the villagers could try their hands at axe throwing, sword fighting, and trying their luck in the ring. Cut and bruises and sores weeping blood were the only prizes to be won... As well as walking away with your life. Every three years, Carnival De Novis came to visit. Will you be there next time it's in town?