" The merry-go-round was running, yes, but...
It was running backward.
The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbals, toothed its castanets, and throatily choked and sobbed its reeds, whistles, and baroque flutes. "

― Ray Bradbury , Something Wicked This Way Comes (Green Town, #2)