Amber by Dan-Dwayne Spencer (e book reader .TXT) 📕

hoops and loops attached to the ceiling above the horses. They streamed like pastel flags as the carousel slowly revolved. The wooden beasts moved up and down on brass rods as the carousel turned. In the center of the finely crafted merry-go-round, an impressive calliope organ stood on a stationary platform. The decorative horses orbited around its shiny pipes and tilted mirrors, all reflecting the image of the tall, pale man who played the hauntingly strange carnival music. I assumed the melody echoed throughout the carnival as it was the same tune I heard as we walked along the iron fence.

The organ master paused like a singer taking a breath, only to play again. In the brief silence, a loud ticking drew my attention away from the miraculous wonder. It emanated from somewhere off to my left. I stepped off the walkway, following the ticking as best I could. It came from somewhere behind the canvas billboards. To my surprise, there stood a collection of magnificent, three-story dollhouses. They were all grouped around a miniature clock tower. A tiny placard above the dial read: Established 1851 - Eudora, Kansas. The whole thing reminded me of a shrunken town square.

Wondering if it represented the original township to scale, I leaned close to inspect the detailed work better. The courthouse and tower stood six feet tall, with an ornate, antique clock installed in the side facing the arched gate. As the second hand moved loudly around the clock’s dial, I noticed the time indicated was, 11:01. I stood up and thought: It was afternoon when we arrived. The time on the clock is wrong.

Again leaning in and looking closely to inspect the top floor of one of the miniature houses, I peered into a tiny window. To the last detail, the room was furnished like a proper house—down to the little automated man drinking tea at the tiny table. He couldn’t have been over four inches tall and outfitted in tailored woolen trousers and a cardigan sweater. When the miniature man lifted his cup and smiled at me, I stepped back, almost tripping on the edge of the walkway.

The overpowering smell of popcorn filled the air and with it, my sudden fear of the Lilliputian-sized man dissipated. I was back on the cobblestones. I should have been looking for Flower. She said for me not to wander away, but the thought was far away, like a distant memory. Regaining my composure, I looked back toward the colorful horses gliding around and around.

The walkway encircled the carousel, and behind it stood a tall Ferris wheel. I stepped up closer to get a better look. The Ferris wheel rotated, suspended from several steel rods twisted into Art Deco designs. Carved flowers, painted red, adorned the center of the giant wheel and each gondola. Mirrors, set on half-spheres along the wheel’s spokes, reflected the sunlight in tiny circles, making them dance on the ground as the Ferris wheel turned.

Down the sides of the midway stood placards, enticing the crowd to view the oddities for a price. Four hundred feet of painted canvases, one after the other, advertising the sideshows. To my right, three Hoochie Coochie girls danced to the exotic rhythm of thundering drums while their dealer hawked the grind, enticing young men to come in and see.

One of the three was exceptionally striking—a timeless beauty with a flawless figure. Her chestnut hair, cut in a bob, swished in her face every time her shoulders swiveled. Her flimsy dress; the way she pursed her heart-shaped lips; and even the way she let her hands slide down her thighs, everything about her exacerbated the seductive swing of her hips. Our eyes lock together for a moment, and in that instant, with a doubtless certainty I knew, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever met…or ever would.

The dealer called out, “Boys, meet Calypso. The most desirable woman in the world. In her dance, she shares the secrets of love. Trust me, fellows, just watching her will make your hair curl and your hearts race.”

He ushered them all into the tent, first the dancing girls, then the men. Calypso turned in my direction before she joined the others. As if she had invisible arms reaching out for me, I could feel her pulling and inviting me inside the attraction.

A part of me wanted to follow, but I reminded myself of the promise I made to Flower. I had to stay in view of the ticket booth, so there I stood at the side of the grand carousel, listening to the calliope music.

Beyond the dancing girls, the tattooed man changed poses as he took off one garment at a time, revealing different parts of his decorated body. Signs for Finn the Human Pretzel and Sasha the Female Fire Eater announced the performers on the left, while farther down, more painted canvases advertised Xerxes: Mysterious Sage to the Pharaohs and Glenda the Bearded Lady. Dozens more sideshows stood in between them with alluring banners, making the exhibits appear to be both exciting and inviting.

Everything at the carnival looked beautiful until I looked past the thin, translucent paint; in contrast, underneath the flimsy superficial polish, all the surfaces were dirty and pale, like the color had been washed out of it a century ago. The paint, similar to the hollow laughter of the crowd, appeared to be cheerful when in fact a depressing shadow loomed just out of sight. Even the carnies who should have been elderly were all ruggedly handsome men and gorgeous women. This too, I supposed, was some side effect of the curse. They got what they wanted—eternal youth.

Flower caught up with me and had an admit-one ticket for each of us.

“I don’t want to know how you paid for those,” I said.

“I didn’t pay. The booth attendant gave them to me.”

“No shit? I expected them to want a gallon of blood