![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
….
“Pawn to C-5. Done.”
….
“Queen’s rook to F-3. Done.”
….
“King’s knight to B-7. Finished.”
….
“Checkmate? What the hell happened? I never noticed that piece.”
“Two things. First you never move the same piece twice.”
“Second?”
”It’s the piece that you count on the least are quite often the most crucial.”
Dante smiled standing up from the park table and shook the gentleman’s hand, ”Thank you for the game. I enjoyed it.”
“Next time I got ya kid,” murmured the gnarled old fellow showing his browning teeth through the grin.
It was getting dark; soon the natives would be out. And Central park was known for its people. Gingerly Dante started down the walkway with easel in hand. ”You still following me?” He turned to look behind him. Darting into the bushes was a little white puffy tail.
”You’re so clever. But if this is Wonderland you have misread your lines and ques.”
He hadn’t been the one who arranged for the site location this time. Nor was he the first one there. As a matter of fact he was late. But as his attendance was required he would show. But set up would have to wait.
Stepping onto a children’s hopscotch board he squatted down and drew a circle in a lovely shade of red lining it with a bit of sugar, and a couple of coffee grounds made not much more than a squiggle inside.
Seemingly content, he stood up and began to walk away, pausing only briefly to throw a pinch of salt over his shoulder.
The circle began to glow and a figure arose from the ground. The body, twisted and deformed, began to make cracking sounds as the bones straightened the physique. To what it should be. Clothing formed followed finally by the makeup.
“You promised!” humbly stated the figure.
”And you shall have it. But patience is a virtue Tiffany and I expect if nothing else patience. First things first. Have you ever had hasenpfeffer?”
Tiffany smiled a toothy grin.
“Good. There are three of them. One will be slower due to it’s aging. That one and only that one. Do you understand?”
“Yeeesss ,” she replied diving into the bushes.
He must hurry he thought to himself. Or I’ll miss tonight completely.
He sang to the night as the walked, “What happened here, as the New York sunset disappeared. I found an empty garden, amongst the flagstones there….”
Red: 12/100 Blue: 15/100 White: 12/100 Yellow: 6/100
</a>
Take the Color Code Test
by Dano
Time...
Dante lifted his gaze away looking into the night sky. With no solice to be found, he turned allowing his coat tails to glide behind him as they and he faded into the night sky.
?But I want to try. You never let me play.?
?That?s right, and you never will dork,? replied a kid about four hands taller.
?Yea, you tell him Kevin. He sucks! Ask him which garage sale his mother got his stupid pants and that shirt,? came from another.
Kevin smiled, ?Your cousin Casey here says you get your clothes from garage sales. It must be a big leap for you from the dumpsters.?
Wearing wine red corduroys and a fuzzy red and blue striped polo looking shirt with a hole in the bottom left side he dropped his head. The uncut hair fell in front of his face as he looked down at his shoes. Blue and white with Velcro straps he noticed the hole over his right big toe and the sand burs that had gotten stuck in the straps that were so frequent in the playground.
?Here let me help you out. It?s new.? Kevin took his shirt off. And shook it in the child?s face. Turning the little boy sniffled and tried to walk away. Kevin lunged forward and wrapped the shirt around the boy?s neck and pushed him to the ground with his knees in his back. The other kids took turns hitting the boy with the kick ball as Kevin rubbed his face in the grass and holding the shirt tight.
The child screamed as the bell rang. Kevin delivered three swift kicks to the ribs and one to the head after he released the noose.
The children all returned to class on time. All except one.
One left alone on the playground. He pulled some of the burs out of his eyebrows and cried as he crawled dragging himself back across the playground until about twenty minutes later when he collapsed on the steps where a teacher found him. Bloody, clothes torn and dirty they took him to his class after cleaning him up.
Dante opened his eyes. Slowly reaching up he touched the tiny scar on his left cheek that had been remained from the sand burs. ?Never again,? faltered from his mouth as he gripped his paintbrush.
The door opened behind his and a voice came from the figure standing above him, ?Kevin also became your best childhood friend. You don?t have to do all this. You?re not alone here.?
?What do you know Celestine? You?re loved by everyone,? Dante said standing back up so he stood on even ground.
?Ah I forget, it?s your job to see everyone as fair-weather friends isn?t it,? Celestine squinted his eyes with a scrutinizing look.
?Dante?s composure was now back to it?s full stature, ?You will not judge me. When the time is correct I will do the judging, but until then you and you?re flunkies will continue suffer and suffer.?
With a sparkle Dante was gone. Celestine quietly stepped down out of the elephant ears stand and returned to his trailer via the back door. His eyes furrowed as he pulled out a huge photo album. Inside thousands of photos lined the pages. There on page forty-two was a small picture of a playground and a boy standing in a circle of children.
Celestine sighed as he dried his eyes.
Dr. Celestine, 6 ft 1, Saginaw Michigan. Just as impressive.
The owner surveyed the scene of carnage left by the artist. The House of Horrors was in a full conflagration, while hundreds spectators had now assembled to watch the show. Celestine strolled out in front of the crowd and smiled.
The owners voice boomed, ?Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages. What wonders does the carnival have to offer? What feats of impossibility are waiting before you? Are you looking for thrills? Are you looking for excitement? You must look closely. For things may or may not be what they seem.? Celestine raised his arms high into the air. With a wink to a young lady in the crowd, they plummeted, as well did the flames. The crowd applauded. The good Dr. walked over to the half burned man lying on the ground and helped him up. The gentleman?s clothes were no longer burnt and he had no recollection of being burnt. Just a memory of the owner paying him $200 to roll around on the ground. He and Celestine both took big swooping bows as the spectators cheered wildly.
G.A. shook his head, ?And he said Dante was overdramatic.? He too clapped and laughed. Watching as Celestine motioned for his new associate to run along, G.A. realized not only was the Doctor owner and proprietor, but also one of it?s greatest performers.
With the fire Gone most of the people went on their way excited about getting their money?s worth. Celestine began directing carnies to adjust the lights so that the burn marks on the House took on the appearance of antiquing rather than catastrophe. G.A. walked over to his twin, ?I?m impressed.?
?Of course, I?m master of the Carnival. Not even the flames are out of my reach,? stated the owner.
The two walked up the entry plank and opened the door. It was a mess. Glass everywhere. Lying in the center of the floor was Dana, scorched and sobbing. ?My home. He ruined my home. It?s all I have left,? she said covering her eyes. Celestine inhaled deeply and contained a tear that was about to fall. Reaching down he picked up a piece of glass and placed it back into a burnt frame.
Dana felt a light breeze flow through her hair. She opened her eyes to find all the mirrors to be whole again. Upon looking closer none of the fire damage remained. ?I do not allow homeless to live in my Carnival. We must all pull our weight,? said Celestine with a half assed look of authority. Dana jumped up and hugged her employer, ?Thank you.? She disappeared from view.
G.A. watched as the Doctor rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his top button. Had it not been for the fact they shared the same face he wouldn?t have noticed the slightest look of wear. ?Are you ok?? asked G.A.
Celestine ignored the question. ?Lets go. Damage control is the task for tonight, lad. Damage control.?
Black velveteen drops landed one after another into a small pool on the ground. Tracing upwards they fell from a sloping metal bar. Slowly it had run down from its source glistening in the light, like dark ambrosia. It made darting patterns as if playing a game of tag trying to escape the simple path. It?s origin? Dante?s bloody grip on the rail. He was less than amused.
The artist appearance was one of almost indescribable proportions. Lacerations covered his entire form reminding him of crash test victims he had seen in the past. Step by step he moved down the stairs to the ground. Paralyzed before him stood a casual customer, starring at the horror that had emerged from the building. ?Got a smoke,? asked Dante. The young man probably in his middle twenties, terrified, reached into his shirt pocket and produced a pack of generic cigarettes and a shiny, five dollar, fake Zippo. Dante smiled wirily as he took the offering and lit it.
His injuries were severe but not fatal. If he used his pallet to undo the injuries it might leave him less prepared later. He pondered for a minute, looking at his surroundings. He had lost a lot of time in that damn rattrap of mirrors. It was now just after dusk and the carnival lights would be turning on any time now. Still before him was the young man looking horrified. ?Boo,? The artist said in a loud voice. Dante watched the young man pick himself back off the ground and flee. It created a warm feeling that crept up Dante?s back. Looking down he noticed a few of the cuts on his arm fade.
Sizing up the situation he pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it. If it was time for the carnival?s lights to turn on then so be it. He tossed the lit lighter to the ground next to the small pool of blood.
Resting on a tent pole Dave had decided that perhaps a little distance between himself and the damn immortal tank was not such a bad idea. Reaching into his pocket he produced a handful of change. He never carried any money of real value just what had collected in the van?s money holder.
?I?ll have a slushie, please,? said Dave.
?Would you like some cotton candy with that? It only would take a minute,? asked the clown in the concession stand with a big toothy grin.
? No thank you, I?ve gotta run,? replied the exhausted customer.
?Four fifty,? replied the concessionaire.
Dave reached into his pocket and was surprised to find he had just enough change counting the dollar bill in his wallet. Paying the clown he took his drink and wandered off deeper into the carnival.
The lights were beautiful. The reds looked as if they danced romantically with the golds, as they were enviously being forced away by the sublime blue. All swaying to the music in the background. It was breathtaking.
Dante stood before the house of horrors as the flames crackled into the crisp air. Screams of terrified patrons running past him left him speechless. It was a masterpiece. Closing his eyes he listened to his music. Softly he let out a sigh. His wounds were healed and he must leave his best work to date behind and not be able to see its completion.
He walked a few steps and stopped. Standing next to a man who had just rolled himself out, he inhaled deeply. Casting his gaze into the carnival proper, he began moving again. Stepping on the man?s back as he moved past, he called aloud, ?Where are you off to friend? I still want to play.? Losing himself into the crowd of spectators he disappeared form the inferno?s view.
Marci lit a cigarette, ?What now? If we can?t kill him what do we do??
?Well, if Dante?s anything like Dave, from what I?m to understand, he?s saved everything up for the big move. Which means he has a finite amount of power. Although it may be almost limitless in what it can do, it is finite.?
Marci took a drink of her coffee and poured a cup for Jim and Mr. James, ? Kinda like Dave always waiting for the big statement in conversations.?
?Exactly? said Mr. James.
Jim bummed a smoke off his friend; ?One problem with this theory; being a ghost, he can feed on almost anything once he starts in motion.?
Mr. James looked up. ? You mean he?s dead.?
?Yes he?s dead. I thought you knew that.? Jim saw the hurt look in his counterpart?s eyes.
? No, I didn?t know. I always thought that he was alive. He never told me. He was my friend. I was happy with just knowing that.?
Well now, that took a lot of energy, Dante thought as he watched Dave run off. Turning around he reached into the mess and retrieved his pallet and paintbrush. Using the brush like a crude fork, methodically he began to eat a small portion of each of the paints on the pallet. Slowly his face returned to its younger appearance and a faint purple glow surrounded his form.
Once again reaching into the mess that was previously his body, he withdrew a sword. Its thrum was audible. ? Well, if it?s going to be this way?I can do that,? he said with a focused smirk. ?Now where did he go??
The calliope that Celestine had come to know as the Carnival now revealed a new note into the song. It was dark and foreboding, a note he hadn?t heard before. G.A. looked over at his overly dressed clone, ?What?s wrong??
Celestine tugged on his chin, ?I don?t know. Something?s wrong, but I can?t tell exactly what it is.?
G.A. shook his head, ?But I thought you said you control all aspects of the carnival??
The owner gave a sharp look. ?I do, but I?ve never seen this. It?s a force I don?t completely understand?It?s?? Celestine paused as his eyes widened, ?OH MY GOD!?
The clown was moving back out towards the entrance of the carnival. He needed to retrieve the lad outside in the woods. He had somehow become important to him.? Hello, again. Guess who?? said a voice behind him. Clay turned around to see Dante gently touch down to the ground.
Clay pulled out his ax. It gleaned in the light, ? Not dead huh? Well I was saving this, but you prove to be more of an asshole than I thought.?
The air stood silent. Suddenly almost as if on que, they charged each other. With a blur, the combat began. Neither could gain any ground. Dante had now fought this one twice, and with this being his third time, he knew his moves.
Clay grit his teeth; he was better than Dante. And even though Dante didn?t die when he took his head, Clay knew that if he could get a hit in on the pompous ass it was all over. Suddenly the clown deliberately opened himself up. If he allowed a hit upon him he would be able to deal one himself. The sword slashed his side?Clay faltered back holding his side. Dante grinned, ?Yes my fucking clown. This sword is special. How does it feel to be injured??
Clay tried to heal it but couldn?t. He rushed the artist again only to be slashed across his weapon arm. Dropping his ax, he stepped back. His head was spinning and he dropped to his knee. Dante raised his sword over his shoulder, ? Oh yes, I love seeing the pain. It feeds me like a newborn to milk. It grows strong bones, don?t you know.? With a whistling sound the sword came down across the clown?s chest throwing him upon his back.
The victor stood over his victim as he watched the paint slowly fade from his face. Left lying in the grass was a man, much smaller in stature, uninjured, breathing shallowly. Dante looked down, ?You have no idea how much of an asshole I really am.? Turning on his heel, he left Clayton lying in the grass.
Celestine fell to his knees in sudden horror. ?He?s wielding the death of the carnival!?
Dante scanned the grounds for the new arrivals. He could see all the guests. In amidst the drab colored little swarming ants he spotted what he was looking for. Like red beacons they stood out, Avatar?s company.
Most tho were of no consequence; GA was stunned by his Celestine, Mike was busy playing outside the carnival, and Marci was too busy bawling her little eyes out to be any threat. As for Dante?s main attraction he was nowhere to be seen. He couldn?t have gone far. They had only been here about 15 minuets before he himself had gotten back.
It was only a matter of time. The other members of the carnival were too busy with affairs and the little party to get in his was. Furthermore he had grown in power. With Avatar, his partner, away there was nothing personally to slow him down. To the point that now with Stephan gone, only Celestine was greater. But even then only Dante could use his full array of abilities outside the carnival. All would fall into place.
As he watched as Celestine tried to hold his unworried mask looking into the eyes of G.A., a flash came from far below in his tent. He paused to think to himself ? A flash? I didn?t write a flash into the script. What the hell is going on?? Slowly he proceeded down into the tent. He hated heights. But so did Hitler. Looking down he saw Amie. ?What in the hell are you doing?? he cried. With a smirk she replied, ? just helping out.? As he set foot on the ground he scanned the room. Nothing was out of place, nothing except his pallet. It had been partially scraped. A bit from every color had been removed. Furiously he turned to Amie and belted her. The portion where her left cheek used to be exploded into small chunks of wax and fell with the rest of the body to the floor. He chuckled, ?Greedy bitch, even without half my pallet, I can destroy all of you!? Slowly the smile faded as he took a moment to think.
Racing back up the center post he reached the top. But avatar was still nowhere to be found. As he scanned the crowd bird droppings landing on his shoulder caught his attention. Looking up, a multi-colored dove flew towards the big top and dissipated. There standing in the eagle?s nest was Dave holding a pallet with a gold paintbrush and the white glow he gave off signified that Avatar was with him.
Celestine looked up to hear Dante scream from above, he then looked across the compound to see Dave scurrying back down the mast. Dante shook his head. ?I have more important things to do than deal with them,? he thought looking back at G.A.
He was dressed in black leather pants with a silver belt. The turtleneck matched his pants in color, and the long duster was of the same leather.
The gathering had left, and the last throws of dirt had been laid. It was time to visit an old friend. He hopped down and walked toward Clayton's grave. Smiling he noticed his boots leaving footprints on the tiny mound, "I'm honored to be the first".
He bent down and whispered to the stone, "Remember me Wade? I've always been there for you. When your life went to hell...I was there. When your true love left you...I was there. When your grandfather died...I was there. And now that your dead...Guess who?"
He hopped up on the stone pulling one of the roses that had been planted next to the pile. Pulling one petal at a time he began again. "Worry not little one. You are not alone. You see I've sent some of your friends along for the ride." Pulling off the last petal he began to eat the bud. "If you watch long enough, you'll see the winged party boy follow soon enough because he has a ticket. You see even though the carnival may be closed from time to time, the Gallery is open 365 days a year even on Christmas. Well I gotta go. Party boy and his bitch will soon be at the grounds with their friends. And as you know the show must go on."
He leapt down, walking briskly as he sang...
Empty spaces
what are we waiting for?
Abandoned places
I guess we know the score.
On and on
Does anybody know what we are looking for?
Another hero
another mindless crime.
Behind the curtain
in the pantomime,
Hold the line
Does anybody want to take it anymore??
Slowly he started rolling canvas placing them in their cylinders. After about an hour all was ready. The paintings were all removed from the walls. Most of the brushes were cleaned. Everything was ready to go except for two chairs, an easel with canvas that sat between them, and his palette handing from a hook on the easel.
The flap to the tent opened. In walked a young lady dressed in blue jean shorts, a bright pink tube top, and brown penny loafers.
?Tiffany, glad to see you made it,? Dante smiled. She didn?t match.
?I hope I?m not too late. I see you are packing up,? she said moving to sit in one of the chairs.
He sat down pulling out his sliver brush, ? what would you like me to do for you today??
?Oh, surprise me again,? looking anxiously she handed him a gold ticket.
Tiffany had one shoulder that sat just slightly lower than the other. Beautiful long blond hair that he could tell was dyed. With a well toned figure. Other than the shoulder that was due to her previous profession, she was quite the specimen. For some reason he liked her. ? Very well, I?ll do my best to oblige,? and he began.
Normally speed was an issue as well as quality. In this case though it was not as such. Tiffany began into small talk as the artist worked, which in turn ended in her telling her life story and sobbing. Dante nodded as lifted his brush and painted a bright red dimple on each of her cheeks. She smiled and thereby connecting the dots.
She despised her work and loathed the fact that her experiences hadn?t yielded much for her. She couldn?t stand dealing with people. Wishing she could be able to find a job she could do. She hated her life.
? I have an idea Tiffany,? he said turning the painting around.
It was a beautiful picture of her smiling in a pink and blue striped outfit. Large brown shoes and make up resembling Clay?s own design. Reaching out she touched the painting. A faint purple glow left her finger tips and moved to the pallet as the clothes and make up from the picture shimmered into place dressing her as the portrait.
Dante watched as her pupils turned from light blue to black and the only remains of any facial expression was that which was painted on.
The artist stood, ? You now feel no pain. You feel no compassion. You are no longer encumbered by what others would call life. Loyalty replaces them all now. Seek out the one with the make up as yours. He will guide you. When you meet him let him know he owes me?And by the way did you want this back?? He held out the ticket. Tiffany shook her head no.
? Very well then go. Remember though, you are mine.? Dante moved to the entrance and opened the flap.
Tiffany gave a nod of understanding and bolted from the tent with one thought in mind?.
To find the clown?.
He mused. He brooded. He was quite good at it. He had a lot of time to practice. One could almost say he stewed. But, gods didn't stew.
Vision.
Celestine.
Dreams.
So, Celestine had a vision, did he? Haughty bastard. Speaking to him in such a manner. And all the while his so-called vision spinning further out of his control, and he still blaming others for the problem.
Vision.
Dream.
The problem with a vision, Morpheus thought, was that once one had had it, and gathered others to it like wretches huddled around a pitiful campfire, and shared it, the vision transcended you. It became more than yours. A dream belonged to only one, and that one would or would not muster what control they would over it.
A vision belonged to them all, once shared, once made real. And once it was shared, it was never really yours again. It belonged to everyone, and no one person could control it. Perhaps they might control their small peice of the vision, but they never held the whole cloth again.
Celestine had a vision, did he?
"So be it." The Lord of Dreams intoned in his whispering, thundering voice. "Foolish man."
Dante strolled back to the top of the hill where the portal was. He thought to himself how wonderful it was. With his new employer giving him direction, he was able to continue his work in the carnival unimpeded by the owner?s whimsical rules, mood swings, and reincarnations. It was a form of stability in a world painted in grays and black undertones that he could understand. Everything was subject to Morpheus. Everything dreamed?even the Carnival.
He looked around at the scenery. Vibrant blues and purples touched the leaves on the trees. The grass flowed with a rippling effect as the wind played games. The sound of a chickadee calling out in the distance brought a smile to his face. But slowly the smile faded, as the realization of the birds call was not that which he thought it was. It was Dana. It was her plea and he was too late. ? Sam? you little son of a bitch, ? he whispered as he stepped through the doorway.
Out onto the midway and down to the end he appeared. There before him lay Dana mangled and although Stacybug looked at her wounds, she didn?t understand the extent of the damage. Dana had been flailed with her own show and the emotions that empowered it. It had gone unchecked far enough. Dante looked up to find Celestine standing across him at the scene.
?Celestine, now will you put him down?? pleaded the artist.
?He didn?t kill her. You know the risks in our profession. I will not allow you or any other person here to kill him directly.? The owner?s words were firm and unmistakable. The Carnival backed up his madness.
Dante slowly nodded his head in understanding as he pulled out his brush.
?Dante, don?t do it. I?m warning you.? Also as powerfully stated as the first edict, Doc was not playing with Avatar.
?My attraction is next. As such I am obliged to make sure he gets to it.? And with a fade Dante was gone.
________________________________________
Sam walked down an alley between the cotton candy and elephant ear stands. Holding in his hand his gold ticket, he looked at it appreciatively. This was exciting all because of that stupid whore in the alley from the night before. Who next? Maybe that fortuneteller. Perhaps the cute little girl on the high wire. Or maybe even both. The night was young and he had plenty of time to kill.
Sam looked up, surprised; his ticket floated down through the air and touched down at what had startled him. There stood the Artist, dressed in dark blues and purples, holding in his hands the cricket bat. Dante smiled, ?Welcome to The Gallery, fucker.?
The bat made no sound as it hit Sam?s large head but the scream could be heard through- out the grounds.
James joined Celestine, as they made their way to the sound.
Sam reeled on the ground. Memories filled his head of a childhood less than pleasant. His father telling him how much he enjoyed having his son. Intimate moments that made him twitch with seizures.
?Now for your epiphany. If you harm one more person, I will personally guarantee you will never rest again.? said Dante. He could hear James and Doc approaching.
Kicking the golden piece of paper on the ground,?Run along and don?t forget your ticket.? With that, Dante was gone.
Sam could also hear footsteps in the distance. He made a hasty retreat around the booths and put as much distance between them and himself as he could.
The two men now stood in the ally way. Celestine rhetorically asked, ?What did he do?? James bent over and picked up the bat. ?I know.?
In fine calligraphy was written the word PAIN.
Dante had dealt a mighty blow with what he said. As all know he says a lot of things, but this time he actually meant it. Celestine changed directions and pondered a moment. The last time such a monster was let loose it was Dante?s fault. How dare he make accusations. He can?t even take care of himself let alone the entire carnival.
The doctor found himself standing outside a once prominent attraction smiling as he could almost hear the bestial sounds from within. What power and style, what grace all within such a delicate package. His hands rest upon the podium as he chuckled ? You bastard, I don?t know why she could care for a thing like you. Avatar you are a lucky man.?
The owner?s smile faded away as he strolled back to his trailer.
****************************************
Finally sitting his brush down and admiring his work, Dante excused the lovely ladies and invited them to return again for future endeavors. Being the principled man he was they knew his interests lied in the portraits.
?Slushie?? The voice came from just outside the tent flaps. Mr. James entered with an extra beverage in tote. The painter waved him in and eagerly took the drink with the sigh of relief. It was hot this day and his opinion of being in a tent, hot, and in Ohio made him nauseous.
There was a moment of silence as both men sat intent upon their drink. After a few moments passed, Dante made the slight stammering motion one does when releasing the straw to speak. ?Yes Daisy, come in.? Through the entrance stumbled Amie. Frantically she looked around the room. ?No, he?s not here,? said Dante putting down his slushie. Amie plopped down on the floor with her hand holding the back of her neck.
?I don?t understand. What went wrong??
Dante looked at the specimen on his floor, ?You didn?t understand the subject. That?s all. While you have your own attraction, you are still new and still learning. Even now you draw part of your power from the Gallery. It will take time.?
James looked over the artists shoulder at his painting, ?Huh, and you were still able to do your work.? James and the artist also known as Dante had known each other for as long as anyone who knew them could remember. Dante raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.
The games master gestured for the sculptor to follow him as he stepped outside. ?Allow me to explain a little about our?subject??
Mary drifted through the Carnival after hours. It was quiet, and dark. She passed by James' booth, stroking the weathered boards with one hand. She moved past the concession stand, the air filled with the smell of old grease. She walked slowly down the Midway, eyes sad, mood grave. Every few steps, she paused, and breathed deeply. She would miss that . . . the scents . . . the wildness . . . but then again, she wouldn't. Because she wouldn't remember it. And she would never leave it.
Stepping off the main run, she headed for the Freak Show. The tent was dark and empty-feeling. She moved into the darkness of the tent, and through it, into the back, where the Cages glowed and sung softly. They paused, holding their breath, as she entered. She braced herself, and held something aloft. It was a bright golden ticket. She had taken it from the TicketMastyr's booth only minutes ago. It felt warm in her hand. A wash of golden glitters snowed gently down from it, and she took each end of it in her slender fingers and tore it.
The Cages let out their breaths in a low sigh, and the humming song continued on a slightly more ominous note. She searched the gilt Cages, remembering the first time she had stepped into this place. there was another noise, now, a deeper, rythmic noise, in the back of her mind she had heard it for so long, she had forgotten to notice it until now She remembered the rusty old iron cages, and she remembered calling forth the Freaks.
She stepped up to the first Cage. Judgement stared out at her with narrowed, shuttered eyes. She reached out and touched the great lock on the door of the Cage, and released him. Judgement stepped out and stared haughtily down at her. "You are unworthy."
"I know." She said in a small voice, and lightly tapped his chest. She faded, and she caught her breath, feeling the weight of her own ineptitute descend upon her. The next Cage held Hermit. "Will you listen to me now?" The wizened old man asked of her. "Sometimes," Mary answered, and accepted him. And Chariot, with her ever-questing eyes. Hierophant, and the burdens of normalicy. He took Mary with a sharp slap to the face. Priestess gently kissed her on the mouth and returned to Mary her intuition. Lovers, the strange, twisted hermaphrodite creature, passed through Mary and left her body atingle with desire for a dizzy moment. Emperor, who looked so like her father, embraced her and faded. the pulsing sounded louder and nearer, but she could not place it's meaning At the next Cage, she opened the lock and let out Death, who tapped her lightly on the forhead and dissapeared, giving her back her mortality. World returned to her a freshet of memories of the world Outside the Carnival, and Mary gasped at all she'd forgotten. Tower, tall and imposing with his rough brick skin stepped out and held her face in his course hands. She felt the part within her that made her a cornerstone in the Carnival crumble, collapse. She moaned and shuddered and Tower fell. Star smiled at her so sweetly and, taking Mary's hands, rejoined her. Hope blazed up again in Mary. Temperance brought Mary back her humanity, and she had to stop and weep as the wolf left her. Magician's clinical stare returned her self-confidance and know-how. Hanged-Man gave her back her perspective. Wheel turned her back onto her mortal destiny. Justice bequeathed fairness and her sense of right and wrong. Empress gazed at her with Mary's mother's eyes and hugged her warmly and walked away. Sun blazed into her with drive and vitality. Strength filled her again with the quiet knowledge that whatever she faced, she could survive. Devil leapt out and wrapped her soul in the ebon chains of real-life concerns like bills and car payments and deadlines and work and groceries. Fool tugged ineffectually at the chains slowly burning away into her skin, and sighed sadly. "I have nothing to give you, Lady mine. Your journey started long ago." Mary hissed at the pain of the chains, and whispered, "But it ended here, Fool. My steps will never leave this place."
"Ah," said Fool. "Then take this." And he tucked a ghostly road map into her hands. It slipped under her skin almost immediately. "A fresh start." He said with a charming laugh, and was gone, out the tent flaps. the sound pulsed louder, and now she knew it it was her own beating heart, pushing the blood through her veins and arteries the place where all these Cages had been built over the journey of her life the place where the Cages had always been haunting her with her own demons almost almost
Mary looked behind her, and the darkness had descended nearly completely. The shinning gilded cages were again (always) rusting iron, faded and weak, unable to hold anything back for long. Her demons and virtues were her own again, to cage within herself as she might . . . or might not.
Except one.
The last one.
She stared into the darkness within, heart in her throat. Bloody Mary had no fear of these cages, but she wasn't Bloody Mary anymore. She was just Marci. A skinny little blonde girl with nothing too special about her, and no magic to call on. Just another rube for the Carnival to take.
She swallowed hard. A light sweat broke out on her skin, and she realized that she felt ridiculous in the big welder's gloves and bangles and bandana. She shouldered out of the stupid leather vest with all the pins, and pulled off the huge gloves. She pulled the earrings out, and shed the bracelets. She undid the bandana and shook out her hair, dropping it on the floor. She scrubbed the bright red lipstick off her mouth with the sleeve of her t-shirt. She got rid of the last of crappy-smelling cigars, and, patting herself down, found a battered, beat-up pack of Marlboro Reds. There was one left in it. She pulled it out, crumpled the pack and tossed it away, then thoughtfully lit it. She inhaled a long drag and let it out with a little smile on her face, then, hands shaking only just a bit, she faced her Cage.
The door creaked open and shuffling, shambling, broaching out from the darkness, came --
Moon.
"Now you see what you are." Moon said. There was a mad gleam in his eyes.
Marci nodded.
"Skinny little bitch nobody."
She nodded.
"Couldn't tell yourself the truth if somebody put a gun to your head."
She nodded.
"Mistake after mistake after stupid descision, spin-doctoring it to yourself until you can live with your own ignorance.
"Failure.
"Liar.
"Stupid.
"Half-crazed with your own false sense of self importance."
She was weeping, but still nodding. She was thinking back on her life. Missed out on college through her own laziness. Wasted five years of her life on an asshole because she was too scared to leave him and admit she was wrong. Taken for a fool by some vain, shallow player, and she let it happen even though she knew better. Taken advantage of by everyone. Weak. Scared. Lying to herself through it all. Lying to herself!
And on the litany rolled from Moon, who had always seemed the most harmless. The ghosts of her failures and betrayals chanted down on her in his voice. She hitched and sobbed and nodded, because it was all true.
"But . . " her voice was clotted and snotty from crying. She snuffed it up and scrubbed at her eyes. "It's all true. I already knew that."
There was a long, quiet pause.
"I already knew that!" She yelled hoarsly. "I'm weak, I'm scared, I hate myself! But I keep going! I know you! I know you!" She sobbed. "I always hear you! You always tear me down! I've lived with you my whole life, tearing me down in my head, always telling me how rotten I am -- I know you!" She was on her knees, but it didn't matter, now. "I've known your voice forever. You're me." Marci said. "I can't beat you. I can't ever beat you. I can only ignore you. It's not true. I'm not nothing. I made mistakes, but I learned from them."
She cried hard for a long time, but it felt good, because she'd needed it. After a time, Moon shambled up and gave her half a hug. "That's right, Lady. It ain't never bin true." He stroked her hair. "Never been true."
Soft applause from the background, and Marci looked up as Celestine approached. Moon was already quietly drifting away. She noticed that the ever-constant pulsing was gone, and the huge, back of the tent had lost something. It was only a saw-dust back room, now. Empty and cobb-webbed. Small.
Celestine stared sadly down at her. He held out his hand, and she handed him the torn ticket. He performed a little wave of his hand, and held, palm out, an empty glass jar. "This, I believe is yours."
"It always was. I don't need the jar to prove it."
He nodded approvingly. "Go and say good-bye to him, Marci."
Marci shook her head. "I don't need to. Tomorrow, or the next stop, or yesterday, or today, a skinny little blonde girl will stumble into your Carnival, and fill these Cages again. He'll never know Mary was gone."
Celestine smiled a knowning smile, and waved one hand towards the tent flaps.
Marci stood, shakily, and with a final glance around, tread towards the flaps. She thought of long wolven nights running under the moon, and lost souls drifting through her tent. She thought of people saved and people lost and time turning unto time and drifting back on itself like the Midguard Serpent, and gently reached out to open the flaps. She stepped through into --
onto the first stair of her apartment, tired and sore from work. She went up the stairs into the place, and kicked off her boots.
"Hello, honey," Came Dave's voice from the living room.
"Hello, sweetie." She answered back, and came into the living room. "Hey, G." She said to GA, at the computer, and gave Dave a hug. "I missed you today."
"I missed you too." He said with a warm smile, and gave her a quick smooch before returning to his video game. Marci flopped down on the couch to watch, lighting a cigarette. She smiled because it had been a long day at work, and she was glad to be home.
(Mary's last post -- thanks for letting me borrow your journal, sweetie.)
His little girl a member of the carnival.
This couldn't be true.
It is true.
I forbid it.
It can't be.
She is mine, not his.
She is his though.
I will not accept this. I refuse.
Paul struggled with himself, or so he thought.
In the stands Mary was excited. The show was not like the rest it was surging. She looked at Dante. He was barely tangible.
"Dante, What are you doing?"
"Nothing." He said with an innocent smile.
Mary lit a cigar blowing a smoke ring above Dante's head. "Bullshit. I know better. You're never just doing nothing."
"Hey hun, I have a small errand to run."
Mary took another drag off her cigar and with a smirk she exhaled shattering the ring over his head. "Stay out of trouble."
She knew better. He was as likely to stay out of trouble as for the sun not to rise the next day. Although she wondered, if given the opportunity and enough time could he cause that also. She shook her head and sat back to watch the show.
________________________________________
Dante perched on his stool in the gallery and closed his eyes. Fading out of sight.
Opening his eyes he looked around. Yep he thought to himself, he was there. On the other side there was a certain amount of peace that he could achieve. More could be accomplished to a certain degree and above all only Dana would venture after him. This was his environment and all was subject to his and the like's command.
He strolled for a while before he sat down with his easel and stool. Under the tree the sunset cast an array of reds and purples only interrupted by a swaying shadow that moved across the canvas. He puled out a small vial and a brush that went to work in his hand on the canvas.
Whistling a faint little tune he progressed along and before long he carefully eyed it lighting up a cigarette. Savoring the smoke since they were hard to get here he smiled. Before him was the finished portrait. It was of an elaborate blade, in chromatic color.
Standing up holding the cigarette in his lips he reached into the canvas which rippled as if it were water, and puled out the sword. Sizing up the blade he held it with both hands. With a deliberate spin on his heal he turned around and slashed the rope.
The body fell to the ground with a thud and began to cough. Dante put his sword at his side which sat opposite the cricket bat on the other.
He inhaled and removed the cigarette from his lips, " Come on we have work to do."
Inside the tavern Paul sat in his chair. Not necessarily made from the finest woods, but it had endured. It had been his great grandfather's back home, brought over from the old world. Passed down through the generations until his father gave it to him. It had been well-loved and the wear marks on the arms testified to it.
Englehardt sat across from him, also showing wear marks. These were a result of his and Paul's "conversation". His left eye was shut due to swelling and his left knee was sitting at a funny angle. None the less, he sat up as straight as possible in his chair as he could.
"Geoff, you know being a southpaw has never gotten you anywhere," said Paul.
"Yea, I know," Geoff grumbled.
Paul shook his head, "One of these days old buddy, someone is going to really be pissing angry with ya. This was just a reminder of manners. Next time you might not run into such generosity. And all the praying you did following around your papa might be the only thing that saves you."
The boy ran back in, "They're coming."
The tavern owner stood up, "Well, you have been sitting around long enough. It's time you get to work."
He motioned for the boy to open the door as he moved behind Englehardt's chair, placing his hand on the back of his neck. Immediately four officers entered the room.
"Gentlemen, It seems that someone jumped the good Grand Constable just shortly after asking my daughter a few questions." Paul motioned back to his daughter sitting frightened in the cornor.
The constables looked at each other and nodded. "Well sir, if everything is alright here now we'll be going now." Replied one of them.
Englehardt looked at the floor and nodded.
"Have a good night Mr. McQueen." The officers tipped their hats to Paul and left.
Two men escourted the Grand Constable to the back door and closed the door behind him. It echoed in the silence of the darkened village, and Geoffry stood there and bled for awhile. He was dizzy, winded, aching. He stared blearily around the alley. In the darkness, something stepped forward.
He was roughly five foot eight, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, and a dark brown goatee. He was very fair, and it was a good combination. He was sharply dressed in the latest style, looking very dashing. At his knee was a huge grey wolf, easily twice the size of any Geoffry had ever seen. A lingering, frightened glance at the beast revealed it to be a bitch. It seemed docile enough, tounge lolling, sitting on her haunches at the man's side.
"Who the hell are you?" He said roughly, warily eyeing the great beast.
"Oh." The man smiled a thoroughly charming smile and stepped forward, hand extended. "Dante. Dante Avatar. I knew your father!"
Geoffry took his eyes off the grinning wolf long enough to inspect Dante's hand. It was soft, no callous. One side of Geoffry's nose wrinkled ever so slightly, but he accepted Dante's hand. "I know that name. And how did you know my father?" This man was younger than himself! There was no way he knew Geoffry's father.
"Why, he came to the Carnival, of course. I painted his picture."
"That uppity bastard said your name!" Geaffry said immediately. "This evening, when I went to talk to him. You got them Johnson's land to set up on."
Dante smiled again, pleased. "Yes! I did. Lovely family he has." His face grew serious. "But that's not why I'm here, Mr. McQueen. You see, I have something for you." Dante reached into his pocket, and grasped what the Ticket Mastyr had given him an hour ago. Dante found himself in the frustrating position of knowing what to do, but being unable to do it. Emptying his pallette had emptied his own abilities. So, he had no power, so to speak, but he did have one thing. Friends. As if to remind him of that, the wolf at his knee huffed. Dante patted her head gently, and pulled the Golden Ticket Dav had given him from his pocket. "This is for you. A trip to the Carnival."
Geoffry stared at him as if he were nuts. "Are you insane? I'm not going to that damn, dirty pesthole!"
The wolf growled.
"Your father went. He passed. Now it's your turn." Dante cleared his throat. "Now it's your turn," he repeated for emphasis. "I'd suggest you take the ticket. It's easier that way."
"And what are you going to do if I don't? Drag me off? Just like you people to take advantage of a wounded man!" He spat. It was bloody, but it was spit. It hit Dante's shiny new shoe. Dante looked down at it, and sighed deeply.
"I did offer the easy way." He reminded. The gleam in his eyes suggested he was pleased to see the constable pick the hard way, though.
The wolf snarled, and began to stalk forward. Geoffry took two hesitant steps back. "You're going to sick your dog on me?"
"Oh, she doesn't like being called that."
The low rumble emenating from the wolf's chest suggested that she really didn't like being called that. She began to trot forward. Geoffry began to backpedal in earnest. "Call it off!"
"I can't." Dante said. "I don't own her. She wanted to come. You see, you've met her before, and she didn't care for you much. Maybe you remember her name, too? Mary?"
Geoffry's eyes -- or at least the one that wasn't swollen shut, grew huge. "What --?"
The wolf's rumble was growing deeper, louder. Geoffry took one look at the huge beast and then at Dante, smiling that charming smile, with just the tiniest bit of challenge in his eyes, and Geoffry turned and ran.
The wolf leapt.
Dante enjoyed the pleasant walk through the night. The path was a gentle one, through the woods, under a lovely moon. It was a gorgeous night. In the distance, he could hear the singing of crickets, night birds whistling, undrebrush crashing, owls hooting, paws thundering, the sweet wind, a man's pained, gasping breath. What a great night for a walk, he thought.
Geoffry staggered though the woods in a blind panic. Or, a hal-blind panic, anyway, as one eye was shut. Staggering in true, from the gimp-leg he'd been so recently given. His side screamed at him, hitched up from lack of breath. And, still, the wolf loped along behind him, howling once in awhile. It was playing with him. Twice now it had caught him easily, allowed him to tussle with it, even hurt it a bit. Twice now it had jumped him and batted him around like a rag doll.
His breaths came in high gasps, indrawn screams. He had long since left the safety of the village, and now ran lost through the woods, stumbling over roots, branches slapping him in the face. He was sobbing.
The thunder ran closer. Ahead, he saw lights. Thank God! He'd gotten turned around! It was the village! Help! Help was there!
Too out of breath -- God, how to summon help? How -- how -- how -- he'd almost forgotten -- in his pocket --
The great wolf tracked his panic, howling occasionally. Her thoughts were wolf-thoughts. fear, hunger, chase, hunt, stalk, kill But, they were people-thoughts, too. Chase him down, scare the shit out of him, make him pay, teach him to underestimate me!
Dante leaned against a tree, whistling to himself, as the peircing shriek of a police whistle filled the night in short, sharp bursts. He had a beautiful view of the clearing. Between the bright moon and the cheerful lights of the Carnival just ahead, he could see quite well. Mary had done an expert job of herding the constable towards the Carnival. Any moment now . . .
Geoffry burst into the clearing, gasping into the whistle, stumbling, falling, rolling, scrambling -- the wolf was upon him!
Dante hummed as the whistle drew out in one long, screaming cacaphony. The slavering snarls clipped in between the bursts of whistle. There was the sound of cloth ripping, and such a racket. "Failing miserably to rescue . . ." Dante sang softly to himself as the whistle cut sharply off, and there was only the snarling.
" Its time for you to cut the ties," he says.
" But you can't get around without my help!"
" Jacklyn it's been long enough, I have to do this sometime. Besides you and I both know you don't want to be around for this."
A faint red glow moves from Dante and he stumbles a bit. The colors are a bit dull but his sight is returning.
" Amie did you build it?"
" Yes sir. And here's what you asked for from it."
She drops a small yellowish white piece of substance into a vial. With it he disappears into the back with pallet in hand. Wails and screams, laughter and joy, pain and anguish, and loss. All can be heard from behind the curtain...The vial now corked, rolls out from under the curtain.
In a quiet voice, one that sends chills up Dana's back in the house of horrors, creeps out, " You know what to do when he arrives?"
" Yes sir. But what if he doesn't come right away?" asks Amie.
" We have time, no need to rush. Your part will come."
" Good, I've been looking forward to this....."she says a whisper.
