Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. It'd be nice, but alas…the income of an average high school student with a minimum wage job does not allow me to.

A/N: Horror story idea. Need to stop listening to Silent Hill music. It does weird things to your mind, man…especially when you listen to it at night. A stormy night when you don't feel like reading the Odyssey for College English. I know the title of the story is long and I apologize…but enough of my rambling, here's the story.

Crowns of Glass, Fields of Dead Flowers

Chapter One: The Last Red Tent

"In here is a tragedy,
Art thou player or audience?
Be as it may, the end doth remain:
All go on only toward death."

Lyrics from "A Walk on Vanity Ruins" from the Silent Hill 3 soundtrack

The wind picked up fiercely as the sun began to sink behind the clouds, giving the fluffy masses an orange colour. It was the time of day when dusk began to rule and nightfall would be ushered in shortly.

The carnival, a magical place near the outskirts of the city, was beginning to open its gates. Le Cirque de la Crainte, or "The Circus of Fear", a glorious festival that occurs once a year on a summer night was preparing for its night of scares. Acrobats, wearing horrendous make-up and tight body suits, stretched and showed off their flexibility. Vendors set up their shops, placing skulls and random charms gently on silk covered tables. Men on stilts walked up and down the road, trying to avoid the potholes and other dips in the road as they walked. The tents flapped in the wind but stood proudly in the growing twilight.

At the end of the stretch of road, furthest away from the entrance to the carnival, stood a small red tent. There was no sign in front of the closed tent, but one knows that the tent is indeed open for business. Yes…this is the tent of the famed fortune teller, the witch known only as Nightmarica. By paying only a small keepsake, the witch would predict the future for a client. But often, only a few are brave enough to go through with the task of meeting this mage. Why, you may ask? For this witch's predictions are dark and often, they come true. That and some can be turned away by the presence that lingers outside her tent. One could say something evil taints that air around her pavilion and some say that is a test to see who is brave enough to face the witch. It is rumored that even the other workers of the circus stay away from her, in fear of catching a curse.

But one brave soul was already making his way towards the teller's tent. He walked with a swagger, with not even a care of what was about to happen…

The red fabric of the tent rippled as it opened, more than usual with the added wind, and the person went in.

There was only an old, classic oak table and a bookshelf, old and oak like the desk. The shelves were covered with books and other trinkets a witch could have. Pillars of lit, melting candles lit the small tent and lavender incense added to the ambiance. Behind the desk, sat the witch, watching the person walk into her tent, as if she were expecting him.

She had pale skin and dark brown hair. Her eyelids were painted darkly and her lips tinted a blood red colour. Wrapped around her forehead was a circlet, coloured red, black and silver, and a red veil was draped, covering the back of her long, curly hair. Her white blouse and black corset, matched with a long red skirt and brown boots, gave her the appearance of a medieval gypsy. Her ice blue coloured eyes continued to watch the lad. When he took a seat across from her, her painted lips finally gave a smile.

"Good evening, stranger…" She purred. "The carnival has not even opened and you already wish to see what I have to see? You must be excited to see me for sure. Now, stranger, what is your name? Your face looks very familiar but I do not wish to get it wrong."

"Dude, I think you should know a face like mine. I am like…really popular. But whatever, names Beast Boy."

"Aw, yes…the animal shifter. I am shocked to see a face like yours in a tent like mine," Nightmarica said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. "So what is it you want? A reading or is this just a friendly visit?"

"This is business," Beast Boy answered. "I usually hate this kind of stuff but I, like, heard you are totally scary. I mean scary as in you're like, scary accurate!"

"Tis very true," Nightmarica mused, looking at the red fabric of the tent. "Now, if you want a reading, you must give me something personal of yours."

"Personal?" Beast Boy echoed.

Nightmarica looked at him, narrowing her cold eyes. "Yes…I will take anything. Some meaningless trinket or even a lock of your glorious hair, stranger…"

Beast Boy gulped, not wanting to lose a part of his precious green hair. So he began to dig around in his pockets, trying to find something to pay the teller with. All he could find in his pockets were a mint and a penny. One of the pennies he found on the ground when he was on his way to visit. That'd have to do, he guessed. He pulled out the penny and the witch moved her hand out over the table, the bangles around her wrist clanking together as her arm moved. The changeling placed the penny in Nightmarica's hand. The witch's eyes flashed, smile appeared and her hand closed over the penny.

"Thank you, stranger," she purred, moving her hand back. "Now here is my prediction…"

Beast Boy scooted to the edge of his chair as the witch closed her eyes and her hand wrapped around the small silver skull necklace that hung on her. She was motionless, adding to the growing tension. The winds outside made the flap harder and the lit candles began to dance a little.

Finally, Nightmarica's eyes opened, making Beast Boy's own eyes widen. The witch looked at him, her face serious.

"What is it, man? Say it already!"

"Eventually…we all have to go through with this. You will grow old, you will go into the dust and you will be born from dust again. Thus beginning the never-ending cycle of life all over again."

Beast Boy looked at her in disbelief. The only noise came from outside, from the winds and people talking outside.

"Are you serious?" Beast Boy finally said, his voice tight.

Nightmarica looked at him with her cold eyes. "Ay…it is."

"I already know something like this will happen!" Beast Boy stood out of his chair quickly, nearly knocking the furniture over. "It happens to everyone, eventually! What is this? Some kind of a joke because it isn't funny!"

Nightmarica did not seem to be phased. "You look at me as if I am a con artist? I can assure you I am not. But I do see the truth…"

"The truth?" Beast Boy scoffed. "You are a fake, that's what you are. You are a hag who probably just got hired from the street."

That was when the witch stood up and the wind picked up even more, blowing into the tent and blowing out the candles. Her eyes looked like ice, shining despite no immediate light. Her painted lips were curled in a snarl.

"Listen to me, stranger, and listen well," Her voice was hostile. She threw her hands up into the air. "I place this hex on you. When thou rest, thou shall fall into a world of despair. Friends shall become enemies and the world shall grow dark. The shadows shall chase after you in this world and you shall never see the light of this world ever again. And so as I mote it, so shall it be!"

Beast Boy rolled at the empty words of the witch. He scoffed and strode out of the tent. Storm clouds covered the sun now and the wind was even fiercer than before. But among the freaks of the circus, the green changeling strode out of the carnival and back home.

A/N: Yeah…not the best witch name, but being a carnival, most fortune teller names are kind of corny. Like "Madame Mystery"? Yeah…whatever. Anyways, thanks for the read! Please review and all of that other fun stuff. Stay thirsty, my friends.