The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG

Riley was up the stairs so quickly. He was getting away. I had to book it if I wanted to catch up. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, he was already all the way down the hall.
He didn’t look back, but he called out, "It’ll just be a second. I have to grab some books."
He was standing in front of a large bookcase, quickly pushing it to the side to reveal the doorway to the library. Had I been there before?
I couldn’t run.
I watched him as he stood next to a table inside the little library, stacking book on top of book until the pile was so large he could barely see over it.
He lifted it up. I could barely believe it—those noodle arms managing to carry all of those books?
"Let me take some of those for you," I said,
I told myself.
Riley turned toward me and started walking out of the little library. I could barely suppress a smile.
"No, I've got this. I need your hands free to hold the gun, remember?" Riley said.
I swayed my head to the side, then back, trying to find his eye line.
"Oh! Don’t want to forget to close this," he said, turning around in a little swirl while balancing those books. He
have Hustle, didn’t he?
"I got it," he said, struggling to put one pinky against the side of the bookshelf to push it closed. "We don’t want any of the mercenaries finding the books. Can’t have them learning to read."
I laughed at his joke—too loud, too off. He was going to suspect me.
"There we go," he said.
I was almost to him. My teeth itched.
He was turning, walking toward me. My smile spread wide.
He was almost to me.
But I couldn’t see his eyes. The stack of books in his arms was too high. His head was on the wrong side, watching the ground. If I didn’t do something, he was going to pass me.
I needed to get him to look at me.
"Hey, Riley," I started to say, but before I could even get the words halfway out, he was talking—louder, talking over me.
"We are on the edge of doing something incredible here! We’re not just talking about killing werewolves, or hurting werewolves, or hunting werewolves, we’re talking about a cure. As silver is purified, it seems to... I don't know... zap the wolves of their strength and power. I don't know how else to describe it. What if this could prevent someone from succumbing to the curse in the first place? If they never transform—if the curse vector never has a chance to propagate throughout the body—could you imagine? Think of all the victims who don’t have to be victims!"
I was supposed to respond. I had to.
"My brother," I said, though I didn’t know where it came from.
"Exactly!" Riley exclaimed, nearly skipping down the hallway, passing right by me without so much as a glance. "We’re talking about a world with no more werewolf victims. We could completely eradicate this disease—or curse, rather. And I am going to have it all on film for the world to know what happened."
He was walking away. I had to stop him.
I was going to lunge, but I couldn’t. I could feel something stopping me, something controlling me. I could practically feel the strings attached to my nervous system, to my muscles, even crawling inside of my brain like worms.
a voice inside my head screamed.
But he didn’t look at me. He would soon, though.
I huffed, and I puffed, ready to roar and steal his attention away, and then—BAM.
There was a loud noise.
A book fell off the top of his stack, landing on the ground with a smack that knocked me out of my senses.
"Oh, damn," Riley said. "Can you grab that for me? I’d really appreciate it."
His nose was buried in another book, a smaller one. He was walking, reading, and carrying a large stack all at once.
I looked down at the book he dropped.
It wasn’t just a book. There was something spilling out of it. Pictures. Polaroids.
They were pictures of Kimberly. I needed to protect her. Someone was after her, right? Someone was obsessed with her. The other girl in the photo.
I looked down at them and started to reach out. As I saw my hand, it wasn’t my hand anymore.
It was covered in hair, and the nails were long and sharp. My arm was so long I could nearly reach the ground while standing. All I had to do was lean over.
I looked down the hallway. Riley was nowhere to be found.
I looked around, back the way we had come, then in every direction until I saw a boarded-up window at the end of the hallway.
The voice in my head was so simple, so pure. It was the only thing I had to do in the world.
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I was about to run downstairs after him, but then a memory came.
That’s where he was going—into the basement where they had a weapon.
That was it. I couldn’t go near the rolling silver.
I could jump out the window.
I didn’t know how to walk with my huge arms, but they knew all on their own. As soon as I started moving forward, my nails dug into the wood. I ran as fast as I could. When I came to the stairway, I pushed through it, and instead of turning, I continued running until I got to the window. Boarded up to protect people inside from things like me.
With all my might, I jumped through the window, crashing through the ancient glass and boards, and fell onto the ground below.
Freedom tastes like wind and moonlight.
When I hit the ground, I didn’t hesitate.
The body that was once Antoine's rolled and sprang up under my control, claws digging into the soft dirt, propelling me forward before I’d even drawn my first full breath of the night. The wind screamed past my ears, a song as wild as the thrum in my chest. The moon hung high, silver and full, whispering its eternal promise.
It filled me, fed me. It was mine, and I belonged to it.
I ran because I
The meat inside me screamed. The man—he squirmed, wriggling like a fish on a hook. His voice flitted through my head like an annoying bird.
Oh, I would go in the woods when I wanted to.
The woods were nothing but dark and quiet. The wind, the scent trails, the promise of prey—they were out here. I had the world at my feet, and I wouldn’t waste it hiding like a coward. I let my tongue loll out, tasting the air.
Dirt, damp leaves, and then...
She was there, her scent wrapping around me like silk. Sweet. Familiar. Fragile. My claws dug deeper into the ground as I followed it, bounding faster, harder. She was near.
the man said inside me, his voice weak and desperate.
Not prey? Of course she isn’t prey. She is my love. The scent of her was fire and heat, lighting every nerve in my body. Her heartbeat called to me, and I wanted to sink my teeth into it. Not to destroy—no, not entirely—but to claim, to know she was mine, that I was hers. My muscles tightened with the thought, and I surged forward.
The gravel under my paws bit back, sharp and unkind, but I loved it. Pain was life. It meant I was alive. I snarled at the lights ahead, where the scent led. Closer. She was so close.
The man screamed louder now, clawing at me from inside, his thoughts like gnats in my ears.
The trees would be mine soon. The fields were mine now. I could run fast and forever in the fields.
I growled, shaking my head to shut him up. His fear, his weak little urges—they didn’t matter. I was strong. I was
The moon sang louder now, urging me forward.
And then, pain. White-hot and blinding.
I yelped, stumbling as the agony shot up my leg. My paw felt wrong—searing, screaming. I lifted it, seeing the glint of silver. A spike pierced deep into my flesh, and I swore I could see smoke curling where it touched. I growled low and deep, biting at the wound, but the silver bit back harder. It was poison, it was fire, it was
Before I could pull free, the ground snapped beneath me.
A trap.
The rope came alive, wrapping tight around my leg. I roared, thrashing, but the trap was faster, smarter. It yanked me up, snapping my body up like a crackle in a fire. The air rushed past as I was flung skyward, the earth spinning away.
The Monster Hunter.
He saw me before I saw myself, while I was still a pup in the heart of a man. I knew it.
I dangled, suspended, the moon mocking me with its cold light. I twisted, snapping at the rope, but it held firm. My claws swiped the air, useless, rage bubbling inside me. I roared again, louder, trying to drown out the man’s laughter inside my head.
Got you
” someone whispered in the darkness, smug and pathetic. Where was he? I would eat his heart.
No. This wasn’t over. I would find her. She was near. I would be free again. I snarled at the moon, at the stars, at the whole cursed world that dared try to stop me.
I would not stay caught.
Off-Screen.
Now, I couldn't free myself. I didn't know why, but I stopped struggling.
“How did you know it was him?” a voice asked. Her voice.
She was here. She was
Everything I ever needed was in her voice. I could hear her. I could smell her, her scent riding the wind, cutting through the poison and the pain.
“Just a hunch,” said another voice. Male. Gruff.
“I just want to know how the kid knew.”
“Nice to finally hear you talk,” a third voice chimed in.
My prey. He sounded so close, but the world spun and spun, twisting me in the rope. I couldn’t place him. I snapped my jaws at the air, trying to catch his scent.
“I guess you couldn’t just tell us who it was,” Riley said.
No answer from Hawk. Hah. That made me laugh—deep, growling laughter that came from my chest, shaking the rope.
“I knew it was him because it fit the story, werewolves feeding off trauma and all. Also, the guns,” Riley said.
What was he talking about? The spinning disoriented me. My ears twitched at every word, every movement. Where was he? I couldn’t see him, but I could hear every sound, every shift of weight, every inhale.
“The guns?” Hawk asked.
“He has a trope that makes it so his allies get comforted when he brandishes a weapon,” Riley said. “When he pulled his gun at the fort after Lila was killed and then again in the manor, I felt nothing. That meant I wasn’t his ally anymore.”
“Huh,” Hawk grunted.
There was silence then. I flexed, twisting my body to reach the rope. My claws scraped against it, but it held firm. Strong, too strong. What was it made of? It didn’t matter. I would find a way. I always found a way. I found a way out of this meat, didn’t I?
“Do we have to kill him?” Kimberly asked.
She wanted me alive. My heart thumped hard, but the sound was muffled by the blood pounding in my ears. I had to find her. To see her. To have her.
“Nope,” Hawk said, casual.
“Why not?” another voice asked.
The one who smelled of sweat and oil.
“Kirst didn’t infect all of us just as a plot device,” Riley said, smug. He always sounded smug.
“I told you guys he had to have a plan. He wanted one of us to turn because a baby wolf eventually runs home to the packleader if she’s nearby.”
“Oh,” Kimberly said. “We’re going to track him. We have to say that On-Screen, right, set it up?”
They were close now. I could hear them moving, boots on gravel, soft and cautious. I twisted again, harder this time, the rope creaking under my weight. I gnashed my teeth at them, snarling, daring them to come closer.
They would never catch me.
I was not some coon hound to be tamed.
The tall one—Hawk—held out his gun, steady and sure. I growled at him. The biting silver. I couldn’t fight him, not with that weapon in his hands.
“So is he lost?” Kimberly asked, her voice softer, hesitant. “Can’t we do the thing you talked about earlier, Riley?”
“I don’t know what will happen,” Riley said.
“Let’s try it,” Kimberly begged.
Hawk sighed. The sound grated against me, dismissive and cold. He shifted his gun, pulling out another one—thinner, strange. Not the biting silver.
He pointed it at me.
Something struck me in the shoulder. I jerked, roaring, snapping at the spot where it pierced my fur.
Not the burning pain of silver. Something else. Something soft. Slow. Heavy.
I blinked, the moon blurring above me. My limbs felt weak. My growls faded, my jaws hanging slack. The spinning stopped, but so did the fight.
I was so tired. So tired.
The world dimmed, the rope creaking softly above me.
It was a dart.
“Antoine,” a beautiful voice called to me, cutting through the haze. “Antoine, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
A nightmare?
Thank god.
I opened my eyes. Kimberly stood beside me, her face soft with concern.
She was upside down.
I was hanging from a rope.
The wolf... it was gone. Sleeping. No—
Always fighting.
I growled, the sound rumbling deep and angry in my chest. I tried to speak, to warn her.
But my mouth wasn’t built for words anymore, only fangs and rage.
I thrashed, desperate to free myself, and my paw struck her.
She stumbled back, clutching her shoulder. Blood. I smelled it before I saw it. My stomach turned.
I roared again, but it wasn’t anger this time—it was an apology, raw and guttural. But how could I tell her?
My eyes darted to the rope. I needed to get down. My claws scraped at the knot, and I slipped one sharp edge into the twisted fibers. The rope was no match for me. I could loosen the knot. I yanked my leg free, my back paw tearing through the loop.
I hit the ground hard, the impact shaking the earth beneath me. Pain shot through my legs, but I was already moving, already standing. My muscles coiled, tense, ready for a fight.
“Don’t shoot him!” Kimberly cried.
Her voice stopped me cold. She was hurt.
Carousel picked me to be the wolf because of my... problem. Because I couldn’t control it. Her shoulder glistened red in the moonlight. The sight of it made the wolf stir, whispering promises in the back of my mind.
“No,” I growled, low and broken. It was just a growl. It wasn’t a thought. It wasn’t a command. It was a denial, simple and final.
I was not the wolf. That was just a nightmare.
I stared at her, at Kimberly, at everything I could never touch or protect again. It felt like goodbye. It
goodbye. My claws dug into the ground as I turned, my body trembling with the effort, and I bolted.
I ran.
Faster than I ever had before, faster than the wolf ever had. The forest called to me. Its shadows wrapped around me like a blanket, pulling me deeper. Away from them. Away from her. Away from everything I could break.
There was no fort. No libraries. No Riley. No Kimberly.
Not in the forest.
There were only trees. Endless, silent trees.
I
in the forest.
I always had been.