I am a very beautiful 5,2 persian girl, my sister is 5,6 and paler skin. Im wearing a gorgeous light blue and gold flowy persian sheer dress, with under clothes under, ofcourse. The scent of caramel apples and something more elusive—like stardust and forgotten dreams—hung thick in the air as Alizeh and Erica, sisters, stepped through the wrought-iron gates of the once-a-year carnival. It shimmered under the moonlight like a dream half-remembered, with tents in impossible colors and lanterns that floated without strings. Music danced in the distance, drawing laughter and whispers from the shadows. Alizeh’s gaze caught on a weathered stall tucked between a fortune-teller’s tent and a carousel that spun backwards—its shelves overflowing with books that pulsed faintly, as if breathing. Curiosity tugged at her. “Just a minute,” she told Erica with a smile before drifting toward the stall, her fingers brushing the spines of stories that hummed like old magic. The man behind the stand smiled slyly, but she didn’t stay long. When she turned back, maybe five minutes later, the place where Erica had stood was empty. Her sister was gone. No scream, no sign of struggle—just an eerie silence, like the carnival had swallowed her whole. I look around the carnival, theres so much different people here, enjoying their time. But where is erica….