The Dire Carnival

Dancing at my windowsill she calls, black bottomless eyes and a jagged smile tug me from sleep with a broken-glass laugh. Beckoning, this pixie traces softly across my jaw-- fingertips so slightly prick the skin. Wordless but for laughter she pulls at me until charmed I rise to follow where she leads. Open evening air greets my night-dressed body with cool wakening breezes and wild sounds. Stumbling through rocks and over roots I chase through the wood behind my manic guide. Toes grip at undergrowth, slip, falling to arrive on my knees scraped and panting slightly in a clearing otherworldly, aglow with fey light. A curious night-shine looms--yet Luna's face is hidden. All attentions focus now on this central luminescence. From its core jangles sweet, unearthly music twisting its way into my heart teasing at the edges of my fragile mind. Compelled forward I follow sound-- my waker cannot outstrip me as we hurtle on. Before our eyes the glow casts shadows forming structure in this mystifying vision eyes drink in your very first glimpse: The Carnival. Light and shadow compose sweeping tents striped ebony and ivory, seeming strong as each element yet smooth, sculpted by a master's hands. Leaping black flames skip along their summits, performing their nocturnal dance, illuminating darkness, engulfing light. Revelers' song soars and forms carouse, lively--but shadows only--to the eyes outside. The air bears heady perfumes, enticing scents: rich, melting creams and toasting sugar enveloping baked warmth and intoxicating spice. Last, encircling all this wonder, cries of mirth and sights to amaze: an unadorned, unflinching iron fence. Drunk with sound and smell and scene wildly spinning through the breeze, my rousing sprite whirls ahead bound as if in a trance her body flinging against the forbidding blackened gates-- *her laughter only extinguished as her delicate form dissolves into smoke holding momentarily the blue of night her wasted shape, lost to the barrier.* But Curiosity will blind eyes far more chaste than mine, and Allure sings only such songs that no heart suffers long. Heedless mortal as I am, I grasp the solid frame decay crumbles rough against my palms. Bodies of other spirits caked by time or the innocent work of oxidation I do not pause to wonder, merely vault myself over the fence and brush from my hands the black dust of portentous iron. Inside the gate, vibrant figures flood my vision ornately costumed in gowns of orange, violet, green arrayed in shirts and trousers dazzling in spectrum. These gorgeous apparitions loop around me peddling beauty, selling fame. They mesmerize the eye with stunning wares: an emerald beast to carry your heavy burdens sapphire wine to cool your burning tongue the music of a thousand crystal seas kept in a bottle to drown your babbling mind. "What do they cost?" "Not a dime, not a dime! Just your Now, just a Moment, only Passing Time." Wandering deeper into the mysteries of night a band of revelers swing beside and catch me laughing, bear my bewildered form in arms and deposit me into a large tent, wherein I find a man at a canvas the size of a wall before which are seven stone bowls. He dashes his brush before the amazed, and the canvas remains blank until my companions urge me closer. Couching myself upon a cushion shapes appear: Here is a man who will paint your heart's desires so vivid you can lose all you have so intimate you fear to move, lest any see the embers of your fire. Spin and turn, the Revelers never stay long, nor draw too near to any one spectacle, but only joy for new tents, new delights. No passion was left to grow cold, no enchantment to lose its power. Spin See the girl of flawless grace, her body painted like the stars-- the stars the carnival hid painted like the stars and lithe as the air ethereal in her arts, ascending the pole, traversing the rope! See her twine around stakes and over fire, dive through hoops and drop through that needle-loop in your eye. Spin Step up to the tent of glistening blue the fountain that gushes without source. Marvel at its lucent clarity, it's chilling foam! Fill your goblet to the brim and drink! Drink deep, imbibe sweet forgetfulness. Long for nothing, cleanse your heart. Spin Take the carousel with its living beasts to ride. Make merry with all on board and erase any care your heart can hold. Let the furious pace speed on from you all that would trouble for a thought. Spin A honeyed apple pressed against your tongue. Just a taste! Just a bite! See the glistening on the skin made from the dreams of the greatest hearts unrestrained and unrequited. Fresh Desire--they're all the more enticing. The apple glitters golden, its red flesh shines beneath. Something familiar, a darker red, flecked across the finish. I bite down and reel-- Something wondrous, but something queer. Faithful attendants grab me quickly, dance me into the mouth of a dark velvet tent. It swallows me as I fall, waiting for the teeth--- White mist surrounds with a shimmer and I have found the ground. A Voice, deep as the sea enfolds me gentle, heavy as with sleep--yet all aware. It invites me closer, sit nearer rest from the night's fantasies. Lulled, I make for the figure hooded in brilliant gold. He leads me to his table. Heavy, strangely empty I seek sanctuary. He offers instead a great promise-- power over my weariness, my desires met. He offers joy unending, pleasure without regret, without shame. A haven promised here, mine alone, if only-- --if only I will stay. But something tastes metallic in those words promises that cannot be kept. No tent could hold so much. This voice, so warm and pleasing, cannot mask well a lie, and the gentle hand holds equally a threat. run Awake once more I fly from the shroud bursting blind into the alley. But back in the tent, left a piece of my heart and my eye rolls away into a peddler's cup blistered bits of my soul flake off, scorched by fire-eaters food. What's left? Who am I? *What did it cost? Not a dime, not a dime! Just a piece of your heart, just a piece of your mind.* Retching, the last of my still beating heart squelches into my waiting hands. I gag and sob out the gore, disbelieving this small bit of flesh is all that is left of all that I have been. The blood draws the eyes of comrades now changing from lovely to grotesque. Ravenous, their teeth elongate Eyes darken and colors fade What was vibrant now decayed. Sweet cream curdles in my mouth. Rich meats, choice fruits turn sour-- the apple rots. A hoard unrecognizable of starved beasts and hideous beings bears down for my final offering. *But I must know who I am and what there was beyond this place!* Sprinting barefoot from the mob clutching the vital treasure to my chest-- though to there it may not return-- I look now for mercy from the black gate. Elegant porcelain fingers produce monstrous claws. What once caressed my wondering skin now sinks in for blood with crushing force. A hopeless last attempt, a dead man's prayer: I fling my body on the gate--- I am over. I am free-- Iron that once kept me out, now holds them fast within. Bedclothes torn, all my purchased raiment turned to ash, I limp, clutching a fragment heart. Staggering from the Carnival's screams, its dissonant music now all trick and terror. Putrid garbage wafts from its walls. Press onward, never looking back, through the wood. So long ago--how long?--a little one led me here. Her death was her own, but could have been my salvation, a warning dearly paid. Cheaply received. My mind swims. A body with its heart outside cannot last. There are many things not of the Carnival that would have my final scrap. Faltering feet stumble and tripping find a mere clear and still: a mirror for the moon. And Luna's face does shine down all her attendants watching on as my naked form collapses beside its calm. I cannot deserve this resting place, could not discern a trap if one here lay. All I can and have and am I offer up to Mercy, and dip what's left of my broken life into the cleansing pool.

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