by Matt Drabble
Their days were arduous and tiring. They walked until their feet blistered, bled, and blistered again, until the skin eventually hardened like leather. They passed towns and villages, people and animals. Some greeted them with friendship, some viewed them with suspicion, and others with hostility. Chastity knew that they walked under the protection of God, that their path would be cleared, and they would only face the challenges that he saw fit. For five long years, they had traversed the country, relying on God’s plan to show them the way. Every night, without fail, she would read from the Bible, bathing her son under the showering sermons. Under her preaching, God became a vision of power and retribution. He evolved and mutated into an omnipotent being of rage and fury. His love and compassion became lost to the growing Tolan.
During their five year marathon, Tolan would often deliver services to the towns and villages. He was angelic at first, a child who captivated audiences with his grace and charm. Later, as he grew and aged, he became a more vociferous and charismatic preacher. He was a powerful young man who carried God’s word to the masses, and thrilled the young women of his congregations. Chastity succumbed to the sin of pride as she watched her son delivering powerful sermons in barns and fields. Amidst the mud and filth, he rose above to be the voice of God. For five long years, they toured the country on foot, never deigning to take a horse or carriage. Theirs was a painful wandering on foot and empty stomachs, and they suffered as they must, and waited to be shown the sign.
Eventually, after the harshest of winters, Chastity watched as Tolan stealthily tracked a rabbit through the undergrowth, and they came across a clearing surrounded by thick and lush woodlands. The sun shone brightly and warmly on their upturned faces despite the season, and there was a fresh water stream that ran through the clearing. The earth looked rich and fertile and the forest teemed with bountiful and edible wildlife. Chastity knew that this was God’s plan for them, and they were finally home. This was to be their future, their world, their Eden.
Chastity was still only thirty eight years old, but her body was eons older. The physical exertions had taken an irreparable toll on her fragile frame, and her mind was even more damaged. Since the night when she’d spliced her husband’s head in two after discovering her son’s abuse, her psyche had shattered, unable to deal with the guilt over Tolan’s desecration and her own murder committal. Now all she heard or acknowledged was the word of God that ran through her thoughts and dreams, both waking and asleep.
After they had fashioned a rudimentary shelter, she had sent Tolan out to find converts to their cause. This would be a holy, sacred place that would require brothers and sisters to build a monument to the heavens.
Tolan was thirteen years old at this point. He was a handsome young man, blessed with his mother’s looks, and his father’s build. He turned heads amongst the girls, but had little interest in their bashful stares and doe eyes. Tolan’s mind, much like his mother’s, seemed to only exist from the dawn after the death of his father and he remembered practically nothing from that day spent in the woods. Only brief glimpses of humiliation and pain existed in the deepest of his dark dreams. Only some mornings when he woke, in those blurred lines between waking and asleep, did he suspect. His mother’s will had been iron and absolute for over five years, but her unstable mind had leaked into his, poisoning his thoughts and stunting his emotional growth. He believed in the unconditional word and plan of God’s will as relayed to him by his mother, and he preached the fire and brimstone of a dark and vengeful deity. His sermons were powerful and passionate. His audience were swayed by the booming voice that emanated from the chest of a child; his natural charm radiated outwards and over the assembled. He possessed a fluid, magnetic charisma that drew people towards him. Villagers gravitated to him, desperate to be closer, and they hung on his every word and gesture. Many of the towns and villages were in desperate straits; crops were failing, farms were collapsing, and sickness was prevalent in both townsfolk and livestock.
The people were fraught with worry and despair; they looked to the heavens for answers and were met only by silence and abandonment. In their fear, they turned to a thirteen year old preacher, a child of God sent to deliver both his word and their salvation.
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Chastity waited patiently for seven months for Tolan to return. She grew weak, despite the warm air and bountiful lakes that God had provided for her. Her right leg grew lame, and she had to fashion a crutch from a tree branch in order to hobble around. She sharpened the end of the crutch to a point, and used it to spear fish from the stream. She prayed all day and spoke to God in long conversations after dark when God showed her his vision for the town. God’s influence was now drifting from her mind and thoughts. Instead, his voice became a whisper in the trees, and the branches would rustle beneath the soft breeze as his voice sank into her. The voice showed her where the church would sit, where the mill would lay. It showed her the town square and the beautiful children that would run and play under the hot sun; it told her of Eden and all of its glory.
When Tolan returned, he found his mother near death; she lay peacefully upon the lush grassland, her face burned by the sun, but a contented smile etched across her features. The large open field was crisscrossed with drawings that she had made by dragging the pointed end of her crutch through the earth. The rough sketches were a plan for the town, a layout of buildings and areas. All were labeled clearly and plainly for him to follow.
He had brought thirty three men, women and children with him. These were his disciples, the first of many brought by a hope of a new life. They had followed him as he had moved from town to town and village to village, collecting the lost and despondent. He’d accepted all before him and turned no one away from the cause. He simply accepted it as God’s plan that builders and farmers were among his party, another sign that God had now blessed him to carry on beyond his mother’s tender fragile frame.
His mother passed away gently the first night that he returned. He had held her now almost emaciated body; her face was gaunt but happy, and she smiled at him and whispered her love before she died. Tolan buried her beneath the field where she had drawn her plans for the town. He had heard the voice in the rustle of the trees for the first time that night; it was the same voice that had spoken to his mother. Whilst his new disciples had slept, he’d opened the throat of an orphaned girl that he had selected for such purpose. The girl was not with any of the party that he had brought in and would not be missed. He’d shed her blood to bless Eden under the eyes of God, and she would not be the last.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The bright lights twinkled and the Ferris wheel rumbled. Squeals of children’s delight and wonder lit the warm summer evening’s air, and joy radiated throughout the town. The carnival had arrived and taken over the square. Booths sparkled with vibrant colours and fairy lights hung low and danced amidst the night sky. There were antique looking attractions that glistened with gold trimmings. There was a carousel, bumper cars, a chair-o-planes ride, and an old-fashioned ghost house. There were games of chance such as balloon and dart games, air rifle ducks, duck pond, ping pong fish bowl, basketball hoops, and baseball bottles. The mouth-watering aromas rose like tangible clouds from the food stands. Delectable fried fragrances and cotton candy tickled taste buds attracted the none too healthy appetites.
The D’Amour Carnival had been operating for almost a hundred years. Preston D’Amour was the company’s present chief operating officer and his family had founded and run the business ever since its inception. He was the incumbent charged with the running of the carnival; his was an iron fist forged in a thousand battles, in a sea of vipers who only understood discipline.
Preston took a slug of neat vodka from a chipped Spiderman glass tumbler that he grabbed from his bedside table. The trailer was large and spacious on the inside despite its antiquated exterior. Image was everything in his industry, and the crowds did not look kindly on luxurious Winnebagoes rolling into their
towns. The carnival was old, but immaculately maintained; the antique wagons glistened with care and the rides sparkled with love and attention. His was a travelling show of memories and longed-for childhoods, and his job was to bring an old, outdated demonstration of a better, happier time. They passed through many communities that had struggled in the present economic climate. Jobs were scarce and hope scarcer. They offered an evening away from worries and a brief hiatus from reality. Eden, however, was different; this was the one town where Preston felt like they were the ones taken back in time. This was a town isolated from the problems of the world. It was a community that bucked the trends and existed in its own isolation; the D’Amour Carnival was the intrusion of the modern world here. Eden was a lot further off the beaten track than Preston would have ever liked to normally travel, but the money that the town council offered more than made up for the inconvenience. The carnival planned its route every year to end in Eden, as after they played this town, they would split and retire for the winter. They always made five or six times their usual rate here, even without rigging the games or running scams. Casper Christian, the town manager, was always adamant about them running a clean ship here.
Preston shuddered and took another long, hard swallow; the neat alcohol exploded in his chest and warmed around the icy edges of his fear. Casper was a strange and scary man. Despite his own formidable size and character, Preston always looked to avoid any situation that would place them alone together. Casper’s rules were sacrosanct: no scams, no rip-offs, and no fraternizing out of hours. The carnival was allowed inside the great walls late Friday night and was to be gone before light on Sunday.
Preston considered himself a man of practical means; he had his family's legacy to uphold. He had forty seven workers to provide for, and rocking boats held no attractions for him. Every year they played the town with smiles and respect; they took their money and got the hell out according to Casper’s schedule. Preston drained the glass, steeled himself, and stepped out into the arena.
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Emily and Michael positively skipped their way towards the chiming music, laughter and bright lights of the carnival - their mood in tune with the evening. The dusk was warm, and they joined the throng of excited townsfolk bustling along the road towards the square. Back in the UK, fairs and carnivals tended to be grubby affairs - dilapidated machinery cranked by surly workers only interested in the contents of your wallet. The fairs rolled through towns creating mess, and drawing the worst in antisocial youths. Towns breathed collective sighs of relief when the diesel engines hauled off their fading carcasses once again.
Michael nodded and waved to those faces that he recognised. The deputy who’d given him a ride home, Kurt Stillson, was walking with a pretty blond woman; his face seemed to be in a constant state of blissful blush. He saw Justin, the large and gregarious butcher; Morgan from the deli; even Eddie, the tram driver that ran their route, was there with his wife. Michael had been hoping to spot Darnell, the handyman who’d told him tall tales of Casper Christian, as he was eager for more details or leads. He’d hoped to casually run into the man and uncover more facts than gossip. It had been two weeks since he had spoken to Darnell, and he appeared to be the one town regular who was absent for the evening. Perhaps this many smiling faces was not his scene.
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Emily held Michael’s hand as they walked briskly; she glanced down, realizing that they partook in the public display of affection on most occasions now without thinking about it. She squeezed him gently, pleased by his happy face; their love was warm, and currently her womb was filled in affirmation.
She looked as they rounded the corner; the whole square danced and sparkled with fairy lights. The Ferris wheel stood tall and proud over the town, carrying smiling faces in its slow rotation. She was now around four months pregnant, and it was plain to see for anyone who cared to look. She had found that it was impractical to wear large and baggy clothes in the hot weather. She had taken to favoring classic smock maternity tops; tonight, she wore a pink and white check one that allowed her frequently overheated frame to breathe.
She relaxed into the pleasant evening’s entertainment ahead; the long day at school had been tiring and stressful. She had finally spoken to Sarah-Jane as soon as she had been able to get her alone. SJ had professed her innocence as to the unauthorized release of her pregnancy news. She had looked into her friend’s warm and innocent face and been unable to believe that she would have broken her word. Mrs. Thirlby had hovered around her all day; every time that she turned, the stern headmistress would be in the background, looking as though she desperately wanted to talk. Emily had begun to feel uneasy around the harsh woman; she hoped that it was only her increasingly unbalanced hormones that were colouring her emotions. She could easily picture Mrs. Thirlby spreading her news without care, far easier than she could picture Sarah-Jane doing the same. The headmistress was a humorless woman; she was tight and contained, but now had taken on an air of disapproval towards Emily. Her usual reserved attitude was now verging on an almost hostile flavor. Emily did not know just what she had done to upset her boss, but she hoped that it would not sour the job which she loved. SJ had assured her over lunch that Thirlby could “just be like that” sometimes. She wished that if the headmistress had something to say, then she would just come out and say it. She was growing increasingly irritated by the hard stares and disapproving looks. She shook her head to free such unhappy thoughts on such a beautiful night.
They crossed the road and into the carnival. Happy nods and welcoming smiles were passed around between residents,; greetings were uttered between the better known.
“EMS!” a loud voice boomed in her ear as arms reached around and hugged her tightly.
She turned into Sarah-Jane, who, despite only seeing her a couple of hours ago, was greeting her like a long lost relative. She laughed and hugged her excitable friend back.
“Michael, this is Sarah-Jane. SJ, this is Michael,” she introduced.
Sarah-Jane looked solemnly at Michael. For a moment, Emily thought that she was going to curtsey,. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Torrance,” she said formally.
“And I’m pleased to meet you too,” Michael said, offering his hand which SJ shook shyly. “This is some carnival,” he enthused.
“Oh, this is nothing! Just wait until you see the Woodland Festival; it’ll be unreal this year - better than ever,” Sarah-Jane beamed.
“Are you here alone?” Emily asked, looking around.
“No, I’m here with some friends,” SJ answered with disappointment. She leant in forward and whispered, “They’re all pretty lame to be honest.”
“Why don’t you join us then?” Michael asked.
Emily thought that SJ was having a stroke for a moment; her face turned the deepest darkest blush, and she stared at the floor unable to look him in the eye.
“I couldn’t,” she mumbled.
“Of course you could,” he answered honestly.
“Really?” SJ looked up at Emily with desperation.
“Sure,” Emily promised, stifling a giggle at the earnest face of her friend.
Emily watched as Sarah-Jane bounded over to her party of assorted friends. “That was very sweet of you,” she said to Michael.
“Hey, I’m a sweet guy,” he announced jokingly. “She seems nice, and I should get to know your friends.”
Over the next two hours, two things happened; the three of them partook of every inch of the carnival, and Emily watched SJ slowly crawl out of her shell. She loved her husband all the more for his attention towards her shy friend. Normally he would only offer the bare minimum when it came to engaging in social offerings, but he seemed determined to draw the shy girl out into the world. Emily had watched SJ in private many times and in public; her boundless energy and enthusiasm seemed destined to be hidden behind closed doors. They would often walk to the square for ice-cream or coffee after work. Sarah-Jane’s mood would slowly dampen as they appr
oached the busy public area. She would be laughing and joking one minute, and then retreat violently back into her shell as soon as anyone else spoke to her. Emily had never met such a crushing case of dichotomy. SJ could be explosively extroverted in private when it was just the two of them, and painfully introverted as soon as anyone else spoke to her. She would often have to order for her friend as SJ became an aching twist of shyness before even the counter staff at the deli. She desperately wanted the rest of the town to see the charming, happy bundle of energy that she saw. Sarah-Jane was a little heavy, but she was nowhere near what she imagined herself to be. She was pretty and fun, and would be a catch for any lucky man in town. Michael had spent the evening prying looks and words from her with painstaking care and attention. She did not know if Michael was aware of what he was doing, but he was doing it just the same. They played the games and Michael won a large pink bear by shooting a water pistol into a clown's mouth that he gave to Sarah-Jane. Emily thought that her young friend was going to faint as she took the stuffed toy. They rode the Ferris wheel and the carousel; Michael took SJ on the bumper cars and drove with a winner’s attitude that drew several disapproving stares from their fellow drivers. They ate cotton candy, doughnuts, hotdogs and burgers until Emily thought she’d burst and all the while they laughed. By the end of their time, SJ was unrecognizable. Her friend had gone from being unable to look Michael in the eye, to teasing him about his inability to land a ping pong ball in a small fish bowl,
