Beyond the knee-deep snow, the eerie drown of a melody cuts through the wind. Red, orange, and pink lights highlighting a deserted funhouse illuminate the dark night sky. Snow has gathered upon the moving staircase, now still, silent. Thick icicles hang from caged windows, the memory of August evenings now only a faded vapor curling through the cold bars. Plastic mirrors covered in thick frost distort the image of a clown face, hiding in the shadows.
Frozen wisps of dark caramel, spiced red cherry, cystallized spun sugar, and dark, smokey vanilla curls.