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Carnival

Page 3

by Marty Roppelt

He only recognized his need to get out. He bolted for the makeshift booth at the carnival entrance.

  Dave neared the booth. The carnie posse had somehow beaten him to it, blocking his exit.

  This made no sense to him; if they didn’t want him to try to hook up, especially with this particular carnie woman, why were they keeping him from leaving? Unless they weren’t entirely in control of themselves, as he hadn’t been in control of himself just a few moments ago….

  A woman’s shrill voice sliced through the night. “Is he having a seizure?”

  Dave’s head snapped in the voice’s direction. A crowd gathered in front of the water cannon.

  “Careful! Maybe he’s epileptic,” commanded another voice, this one male, from within the growing crowd.

  “Here’s my pen,” came a third voice. “Put this between his teeth. He could bite his tongue off.”

  Dave trotted toward the assemblage. He pushed his way through to a prone and still body.

  The body was his own.

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and snapped them open.

  Dave found himself lying on the gravel in front of the water cannon game. Someone tried to force a ball-point pen into his mouth. He swatted the helping hands away. 

  “Are you okay?”

  He turned his head toward the blonde, who kneeled next to him amidst a gathering of concerned carnival-goers.

  “I’m okay, Miss – ”

  “Lori.”

  “I guess I’m okay, Lori. What happened?” He sat up and immediately felt woozy.

  “Easy, not so fast,” instructed Mr. Ball-Point Pen.

  “I’ll get him to the first aid tent,” Lori said, helping Dave to his feet.

  He noted Lori’s perfectly normal, light hazel colored eyes – nothing special there, nothing mesmerizing or even memorable. He let her guide him as he scanned the grounds for his girlfriend. "Where's Jenny?" he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lori answered as they approached the first aid tent. “I didn’t see you with anyone. I just saw you pass out.”

  Dave's senses slowly reawakened. He had no idea what had just happened to him or why. He had no idea where Jenny was… and he had no idea why he was being led past the first aid tent to the darkness beyond the edge of the carnival.

  Lori turned to face him. She pressed her body against his and drew his face down to her lips.

  “Don’t go to her,” she whispered. “Come to me.”

  His lips now softly brushing Lori’s, he felt himself sink again toward semi-consciousness.

  A strong hand clapped his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance.

  “Don’t try to hook up – ”

  Dave spun around and faced the creepy old carnie.

  “I’m not trying to hook up,” he protested. “I’m trying to get out!”

  He dashed for the exit. A chilling snippet of conversation followed behind him.

  “A sailor,” the old man said. “You can’t escape your roots.”

  “I don’t want to,” Lori answered. “I’ll see him again.”

  Dave tore onto the vacant soccer field. He raced to the middle of the field before turning back for a last look. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary, even for an extraordinary event like a traveling carnival. The Ferris wheel made its deliberate turns and bathed the area in an eerie bluish glow. The Tilt-A-Whirl spun screaming riders into stomach-stretching dizziness. Carnival barkers bilked locals, who didn’t need much cajoling, into parting with their money.

  Everything seemed normal to Dave – everything but the two dark shapes at the edge of the carnival’s glow. The tall lanky figure turned and shambled back toward the midway. The shorter silhouette with the more pleasing curves took a step toward the darkness of the soccer field, held its arms out toward Dave, and waited.

  Dave’s heart leaped into his throat. He spun and trotted away, putting distance between himself and the lure of the carnival. He felt no safety yet, though.

  “I’ll see him again,” Lori cooed in his head.

  A familiar figure emerged from the murk of the picnic pavilion ahead of him. He recognized Jenny; she had waited for him. He decided he would try to talk with her. He estimated, based on the distance between them, he had about three minutes to figure out what to say.

  The carnival would pack up and leave Cook Park next week, he knew. But he feared the carnie girl would tempt him again some day – she, or some other girl. Would he be with Jenny then? He wondered if “forever” with Jenny had changed forever.

  And his mortally wounded naïveté wondered if it would help to avoid Fleet Week entirely by joining the Army instead.

  # # #

  About the Author

  Connect with me OnLine

  On my website at:

  https://www.martyroppelt.com/

  on Facebook at:

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Marty-Roppelt/241196925916521

 


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