The clock had just struck midnight when I awoke to the sounds of a carnival floating in from my open window. It was fall, and the large harvest moon on the horizon was like an eye staring down at me. I went to the window and saw that I was not alone. There were other kids I knew, staring out of their windows, searching for the source of the music.
“Do you hear it?” said a voice.
My heart froze for a split second, until I remembered the walkie talkie on my window sill. It was my best friend, Kevin.
“Yeah, I think so.” It was faint, but it was there. A song on the wind. It was as delicate as a whisper, but it was exciting - our town didn’t get normal carnivals, not to mention ones that go on after midnight.
“What the heck do you think they’re doing?” Kevin asked. I was wondering the same thing.
“We’ll talk about this at school, okay?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
And we did talk about it. We weren’t the only ones, either. A couple of the kids on our street came up to us at recess and asked if we had heard the music, too. Gary Briggs, a kid from my grade, told me that he saw Frankie Nichols, the kid who lives on the corner of the street, walking out toward the sound. He didn’t go to our school, and no one I knew hung around with him. He was an uptight West Park kid.
On our way home from school, Kevin and I ran threw the red and orange leaves that littered the ground, kicking up a storm of fall colors. As we got closer to my house, he stopped, and looked at me.
“I know you don’t want to go to the carnival. You’re a scaredy-cat. But I am going tonight, and if you want to go, we can go together.” He was right. I was a scaredy-cat. I didn’t like the song, or the way I felt when I woke up the night before, like there was now a shadow that stretched down my street. But he was wrong to think I didn’t want to go. A part of me did, and I had no idea why.
“I’ll go. Just wait until our parents go to bed. If we hear the music we’ll go together.” He was almost as surprised as I was. After dinner, I went up stairs and read. I watched the clock tick past ten, then eleven, and finally twelve. And then I heard the music. “You gotta see this! There’s some guy walking down the street, come quick”” Kevin’s voice sounded hollow in the walkie talkie, but it could not veil his excitement.
I tip-toed to the window, and peered out into the moonlit street. There was a tall man wearing a tall black hat slowly walking down the street. There were other kids at their windows too; their faces were dim reflections in the curtains and slivers behind their blinds. But I could see them, just as I knew they could see me.
“Children, children,” the man spoke in a sweeping melodic voice. “There is a carnival, as I am sure you are all aware.” It was as if he was talking directly to me from some place in my room. And for a moment, I felt as though he saw me. As if I was somehow standing in his shadow, like the darkness that had fallen over the street had grown somehow darker. Gooseflesh broke out on my arms. I realized I was trying so hard to be quiet, I had almost forgotten to breathe. The man reached into his vest, and pulled out something that glinted in the moonlight.
“The carnival is close, you just need to follow the sound of the music. The price of admission is your diligent silence.” his eyes glinted in the moonlight. He chuckled and threw a handful of tickets into the air. He turned on his heel, thrust his hand back into his pockets, throwing another handful into the air. The tickets were caught in an errant breeze and littered the street. They glittered, catching the pallid moonlight.
“You’re not going to wuss out, right?” It was Kevin speaking through the tin can. “No. Meet me outside in three minutes.”
I grabbed my favorite sweatshirt, a faded red hoodie, and my fathers flashlight. Kevin was waiting for me in the shadow of a tree in front of his house. As I made my way to meet him, I could see other kids doing the same. At that point, I was thinking about the carnival. About adventure.
I picked up a ticket before it fluttered away. It read “Admit One” in black ink. The ticket was gold, and didn’t feel like any ticket I’d ever held before. The ones at school were thin, and red, while these were thick, smooth, and glimmered in the light. Most of all, the ticket felt expensive.
We followed the sound of the music like dogs follow a scent. At first it was just a whisper on the wind, but it became louder and stronger. There was the smell of candy and popcorn, and my mouth began to water. We ran toward the source; it was a large tent with many tall peaks. It was smaller than I had expected, more squat, but it loomed over us, eclipsing us in its shadow, billowing in the cool autumn wind. It was striped in red, yellow, and blue. I could see faint words stencilled on the tent, but could not make them out in the dark. There was a popcorn machine, and a bald man standing behind a cart with two fists holding bundles of cotton candy. He was shorter than the tall man, but still a mountain among us.
The kids swarmed him, and he laughed. “Oh, there’s more than enough for all of you kids,” He said in a dim voice. “Go inside, the show is about to start!” He patted some of the kids on the back with his meaty hand. They ran inside the tent giggling. I turned to my right, toward the shadow of the tent - a place that I had not immediately seen, toward an old wooden gypsy caravan. The dark man leaned against it, smoking. Its windows were dim, lit by what appeared to be candlelight, and there was an old sign that read Oscurita. The paint was faded, I could see that even in the dim light.
I made my way to the caravan. I wanted to see inside, the golden light that spilled out through its windows was inviting. It felt like I was standing in some type of fairy tale.
“Is this your carnival?” I asked the tall man in the dark suit. His eyes settled on me, and he took a long drag from the cigarette in his mouth.
“I am the ringmaster, but this carnival, it belongs to all of us.” He motioned to the candy man, and toward the main tent.
“How many of there are you?” I asked.
“You ask a lot of questions, young man. We have acrobats, and strong men, lion tamers, and - ”
“Freaks?” I asked, recalling old pictures of sideshows and amusement parks from old books I had seen at the library.
His eyes narrowed on me, but a smile grew across his face.
“Yes, freaks. We have other things, too. Don’t you want to see what other wondrous things we have?”
I no longer heard the other kids laughing, only the calliope and its hollow song.
“You’ve got a ticket, don’t you? Earned it yourself, tenacious lad, apparently.” A smile spread across his face, and he eyed the pocket that held my ticket. He had dark, greedy eyes. “Your friends will be waiting,” When I didn’t move his smile faded. I saw Kevin disappear into the folds of the tent, then he was gone, and I felt very alone.
“I should be going, this was a mistake.” I stammered, and turned to leave.
At first I thought I was caught on something, but I realized there were two strong hands holding me by my shoulders. The tall man cleared the distance between us in the blink of an eye.
“Your ticket.” He said in little more than a whisper. His grip was like a vice. I froze a moment, and his hands squeezed tighter. “On second thought, perhaps you’ll stay. Perhaps you’ve not yet paid the price to leave,” His voice dropped to a hiss. “Perhaps you’ll stay with us a long while yet.”
I tried to shake myself from his grasp.
“Let go of me! Get your hands off me!” I struggled, but gained no ground. I stomped on his foot. His grip loosened, jolted by the pain. I tried to rush forward, but he clung onto my sweater, his fingers like talons, pulling me toward him, into his shadow, into the darkness. I pulled forward with all of my strength. There was the sound of ripping, and I was free. My old sweatshirt had torn away in two scarlet ribbons.
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I was propelled by the thought that he was reaching for me, running after me, that his shadow was descending upon me. All I heard were the sounds of my feet hitting the pavement, the soft calliope on the wind, and the dark man laughing behind me.
The next day, Kevin wasn’t waiting for me. At school, I found that most of the other kids hadn’t shown up. I was called into the office around noon, and my dad picked me up from school. He asked if I had snuck out last night with my friends. I told him I had. My dad didn’t say anything for a minute, but when he held me close, I knew he was crying.
“There was an accident,” My dad’s voice was choked with tears. He didn’t say anything more, but he hugged me for a long time.
I never saw Kevin again. My dad took me out of school, and we moved a couple days later to a small apartment in a new town.
That was a few years back.
The other day I was driving along at the edge of town and I saw that same tent, or one very like it. In the light of day you could see words all over the canvas sides in big stencilled letters. DEADLY FUMIGANT GAS.
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Credits to: Havoc_7
