Broken and burnt bulbs sat in rusted sockets and had not illuminated the night sky in decades. Rafters and structures were tilted and bent, collapsing under age, and rot, and time. It was the skeletal remainder of a carnival—a reminder of the laughter and joy that once was. Carriages with flaking paint that once bore colorful swirls, smiles, or terrifying faces had not budged in decades. No music had come from the abandoned hurdy gurdy machines. No air had pumped through the pipe organs. Harrow Faire sat neglected and abandoned.
