THE SMILING MAN — EPISODE 1
THE SMILING MAN — EPISODE 1
"I Saw the Smiling Man at an Abandoned Carnival"
Part 1 of 4 — A GhastlyPages.com Original Horror Series
I was walking through an abandoned carnival at 2:00 AM when I first saw him. I didn't know it then, but that night would change my life forever. And not for the better.
It started as a stupid idea. A dare, really. My friend Marcus had been talking about this old carnival grounds outside town for weeks. "It's completely abandoned," he said. "No security, no cameras, nothing. Just rusted rides and creepy old buildings. Perfect for photos."
I was between jobs. I was bored. I was stupid.
So at 1:30 AM, I parked my car on the side of the highway and walked through a broken fence into the Fairview Carnival Grounds. The place had been closed for over a decade. I remember coming here as a kid — the lights, the music, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. Now it was just... dead.
The moon was full that night. It cast pale silver light over everything, making the rusted rides look like skeletons. The ferris wheel loomed in the distance, its empty chairs swaying gently in the wind. I pulled out my phone and started taking photos.
Click. Click. Click.
The silence was heavy. No cars. No people. Just the occasional creak of metal shifting in the breeze. I walked past the ticket booth — glass shattered, faded posters peeling from the walls. I passed the game booths where people used to win stuffed animals. Now they were just empty shells.
I was about to leave when I saw him.
He was standing near the ferris wheel, perfectly still, watching me.
At first, I thought he was a mannequin. Something left behind, a prop the carnival never bothered to remove. He was tall — unnaturally tall — and thin, with long limbs that seemed slightly too long for his body. His suit was red and gold, a tattered ringmaster's costume that had seen better decades. The fabric was faded, frayed at the edges, but still unmistakably flamboyant.
Then I noticed his face.
It was pale. Paper-white. Like a porcelain mask that had been painted with the ghost of a complexion. And his smile — his smile was impossible. It stretched from ear to ear, wide and unnatural, revealing rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. Not human teeth. Something else. Something wrong.
His eyes were black. Completely black. No whites, no irises, no pupils. Just two dark voids in his pale face. And in the center of each void, there was a tiny white pinprick of light. Like a star in an endless night.
I froze. My heart stopped. My lungs forgot how to work. Every cell in my body screamed at me to run. But I couldn't move.
He didn't move either. He just stood there, perfectly still, his smile unwavering.
And then I noticed the balloon.
A single red balloon floated beside him, tied to his hand by a thin white string. It bobbed gently in the still air, as if someone had just let it go. But there was no wind. The air was dead calm.
I don't know how long we stood there. Seconds? Minutes? Time didn't make sense anymore.
Then I blinked.
He was gone.
I looked around frantically, my head whipping left and right. Nothing. Just the rusted rides, the empty booths, the skeletal ferris wheel. I started walking backward, my eyes darting everywhere. I told myself I'd imagined it. I told myself it was just a trick of the light. I told myself I was being an idiot.
Then I heard something.
A soft rustling sound. Like fabric brushing against metal.
I spun around. He was standing thirty feet away, next to the ticket booth. Still smiling. Still watching.
I ran.
I didn't look back. I just ran. My feet pounded against the cracked asphalt, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I crashed through the broken fence, my hands bleeding from the sharp metal. I didn't stop. I ran all the way to my car, fumbling with my keys, dropping them twice before I managed to unlock the door.
I threw myself into the driver's seat. I locked the doors. I started the engine.
And then I looked up.
He was standing beside my car, his pale face illuminated by my headlights. His smile was as wide as ever. His black eyes stared through the window, into my soul. He raised his hand — long, thin fingers — and waved slowly.
Then he was gone.
I didn't wait. I slammed the gas pedal and drove away, my tires screeching on the empty road. I drove for twenty minutes before I could breathe again. I drove for an hour before I could think clearly.
When I got home, I locked every door. I checked every window. I told myself it was just a trick of the light, just my imagination running wild. I told myself I was exhausted, stressed, and my mind was playing tricks on me.
But then I saw it.
A single red balloon, floating just outside my bedroom window. It bobbed gently in the moonlight, its string tied to the windowsill. There was no wind. The air was still.
He was there. He had followed me home.
I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that smile. Those black eyes. Those needle teeth. I sat in my room with all the lights on, my back against the wall, staring at the window until the sun came up.
When morning arrived, the balloon was gone.
I told myself it was nothing. I told myself I had been dreaming. I told myself I was overreacting.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
THREE DAYS LATER
I tried to return to normal life. I went grocery shopping. I called my mom. I applied for jobs online. I forced myself to eat, to sleep, to pretend everything was fine.
But the nightmares wouldn't stop.
Every night, I dreamed of the carnival. Of the ferris wheel. Of his smile. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, convinced I'd seen him in the corner of my room. Every time, I'd turn on the lights, and nothing would be there.
But the feeling wouldn't go away.
On the third night, I found the balloon.
I had just woken up from another nightmare. I was shaking, my sheets soaked with sweat. I stumbled to the bathroom to splash water on my face. When I looked up at the mirror, I froze.
There was a red balloon floating behind me in the reflection.
I spun around. Nothing.
I looked back at the mirror. The balloon was still there. Floating in the reflection of my empty bedroom.
I ran.
I didn't stop running until I reached my friend's house four miles away. I banged on the door until Marcus opened it, looking at me like I was insane. Maybe I was.
"Bro, what the hell?" he said. "It's 3:00 AM."
"I need to stay here," I gasped. "Please. Just for tonight."
I stayed at Marcus's house for three days. I told him I'd been having panic attacks, that the abandoned carnival had freaked me out more than I'd admitted. He believed me, or at least pretended to.
But on the fourth night, I made a mistake.
I went home.
ONE WEEK LATER
I thought I was safe. A week had passed with no balloons, no nightmares, no sign of him. I was starting to think I'd finally escaped.
I was wrong.
It happened on a Thursday night. I was sitting in my living room, watching TV, trying to relax. The show was boring — some crime drama I'd seen before. I was half-asleep on the couch when I felt it.
A cold draft.
I looked at the window. It was closed. I looked at the front door. It was locked.
I looked back at the TV.
The screen had gone black. And in the reflection, standing behind my couch, I saw him.
I spun around. Nothing.
I turned back to the TV. The show was playing again. The reflection was just my living room.
I sat there, frozen, my heart pounding. I didn't move for an hour. I didn't breathe. I just stared at the TV, waiting for him to appear again.
He didn't.
But when I finally went to bed, I found the balloon on my pillow.
It wasn't the same balloon. This one had a message written on it in black ink, the letters uneven and jagged, like they'd been written in a hurry.
"YOU CAN'T RUN FROM A SMILE."
I screamed.
I grabbed my keys and ran out of the house. I drove to Marcus's house again, and I stayed there for the rest of the week.
TWO WEEKS LATER
I started seeing him everywhere.
In the corner of my eye. In reflections. In the shadows of my dreams.
At first, I thought I was losing my mind. Then I started to realize the truth: he was real. He was following me. And he wasn't going to stop.
I started researching. I spent hours online, looking for anything about a smiling man, a red balloon, abandoned carnivals. I found nothing. It was like he didn't exist in the real world — just in my world.
I thought about going to the police. But what would I say? "Officer, a man with a creepy smile is stalking me and leaving balloons"? They'd think I was crazy. Maybe I was.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that I had to understand. I had to know who he was. Why he was following me. What he wanted.
So I went back to the carnival.
I told myself it was insane. I told myself I was walking into a trap. But I had to know. I had to face him.
THREE WEEKS LATER
The carnival looked different at night. Even more abandoned. Even more dead. The rides seemed to sag under the weight of their own decay. The ticket booth was nothing but broken glass and rusted metal.
But the ferris wheel was still standing. And he was waiting for me.
He stood at the base of the wheel, his red and gold suit glowing in the moonlight. His smile was as wide as ever. His black eyes stared at me from across the empty grounds.
I walked toward him. My legs were shaking. My heart was pounding. But I kept walking.
"You've been following me," I said. "Why?"
He didn't answer. He just smiled.
I stopped twenty feet away from him. Up close, I could see the details I'd missed before. His skin wasn't just pale — it was wrong. Too smooth. Too white. Like it had been painted on. And his eyes — those black voids — they seemed to suck the light out of the air around them.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He tilted his head slightly. The first movement I'd ever seen him make.
Then he raised his hand and pointed behind me.
I turned around. The ferris wheel was spinning.
It shouldn't have been. The power had been cut for years. The wheel was rusted, broken, abandoned. But there it was — slowly turning, its empty chairs swaying as they passed overhead.
I looked back at him.
He was gone.
And in his place, there was a single red balloon, floating in the air where he'd been standing.
I ran. I didn't look back. I ran all the way to my car and drove away as fast as I could.
But I knew it wasn't over.
FOUR WEEKS LATER
I've been running for a month now. I've stayed in hotels, motels, and friends' couches. I've changed my phone number, deleted my social media, cut ties with almost everyone I know.
But he always finds me.
The balloons appear wherever I go. On my car. Outside my window. On my doorstep. Always red. Always floating.
I've started to understand something. He's not trying to hurt me. He's not trying to kill me.
He's trying to show me something.
I don't know what yet. But I'm starting to think that maybe — just maybe — I need to stop running.
Maybe I need to stand still and watch.
Because every time I run, he appears.
Every time I hide, he finds me.
And every time I close my eyes, I see that smile.
He wants me to understand. He wants me to know the truth.
And the truth is, I can't escape him.
Because wherever I go, he's already there.
Waiting. Watching.
Smiling.
NEXT WEEK — PART 2:
"I Tried to Forget the Smiling Man. He Didn't Forget Me."
📌 Read Part 2 next Thursday, 8 PM EST.
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