The Black Carousel — Charles L. Grant

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. Its creatures seem alive in the flickering lights as they spin hypnotically past. And those who dare to ride are forever...changed.