(April 2023’s short story of the month… I know, I know… sooooooo late)
A group of young men strolled down the street as if they were training to be secret agents. It was the kind of town most young people dreamed of escaping, where everyone had their own private fantasy. Some might have ideas about moving to the city and finding a high-powered job, or becoming a star, or, like the boy currently playing the part of an extraterrestrial being captured by his CIA friends, running away and joining the circus.
“No one joins the circus anymore,” his stepfather said at dinner. “They don’t even exist anymore, not really.” He passed green beans to the boy and stuffed food into his mouth. He shook his head as he ate.
The boy thought his stepdad looked like a pig, eating everything in his path. He tried to eat his own dinner, but after seeing his stepdad, he lost his appetite.
“You have to eat, hon,” his mom said.
“You haven’t eaten yet,” he said.
“Don’t argue with your mother,” his stepdad said.
The boy just shrugged. He pushed the green beans around his plate for a few more minutes, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat them.
Eventually his stepdad got up and practically threw his plate in the sink on his way to the living room. Once he made his way to his easy chair for the evening, he wouldn’t be interested in anything else but the tv for the rest of the night.
The boy used the opportunity to sneak away as well.
In his room, he picked up his pen and started to draw. Every evening he drew scenes of the circus, or at least the imagined circus in his head.
***
He didn’t dream of being the ringmaster. He wanted to be a part of one of the acts, a lion tamer, a tight rope walker, a sword swallower, or even a strongman. When he drew himself in these roles, he knew he wouldn’t ever be one of these things, but he imagined the exhilaration he would feel as the crowd cheered for him.
There was something magical about the lights, the sawdust, and the abilities of extraordinary people. The colorful rides and the smiles of the visitors. The circus was a world where everything was possible, even if only for the night.
He longed for that kind of magic and escapism. Every night was the same at his house. His stepdad and mom went to the living room after dinner and watched tv until time for bed.
When his dad had been alive, after dinner was when they’d had family time, and even if they ended up in front of the tv, they were there together. He didn’t feel like part of a family anymore.
***
The next day the boy couldn’t focus on what his friends were playing.
He was lost in thought daydreaming about what he might draw that evening after dinner when his friend Tony shoved him.
“Wake up, it’s your turn to be one of the agents.” Tony was glaring at him, and the rest of the guys had their arms crossed waiting for him to respond.
“Sorry, I don’t really want to play secret agents anymore,” he looked at his feet as he answered avoiding making eye contact with his friends.
“What’s with you lately?” asked Tony, the spokesperson by default.
“I don’t want to play secret agents, that’s all.” He shuffled his feet kicking up some dirt, but he still didn’t look up.
“Why? What do you want to do?” asked Tony, derision already dripping from his words. “Let me guess. You want to play circus again.” He sneered as he finished, and the other kids smirked and giggled following Tony’s lead.
Tony shoved him again. This time, the boy fell on his butt. Dirt billowed around him.
The other kids laughed.
“Come on, guys,” Tony marched away with everyone else following close on his heels.
The boy stayed sitting in the dirt, the dust literally settling around him. He didn’t cry. He wanted to, but he hadn’t cried since his dad’s funeral.
As he sat there, wishing he could be somewhere other than where he was now, he heard carnival music. It sounded exactly like the imaginary carousel that he dreamed about every night.
He continued to sit in the dirt, assuming his daydreaming was sneaking into his waking life.
The music didn’t stop though. The longer he sat there, the louder it got, and the more other sounds became audible to him. He heard the machines clanking. He heard people talking and kids laughing. He heard screams and then the sound of a roller coaster clicking and clacking on tracks.
There wasn’t a circus in town though, or a 4-H fair or anything like that. What was he hearing?
He sat in the dirt fighting the urge to run towards the sounds he was hearing, but even at the age of only twelve, he knew that he must be imagining things. There wasn’t a fair in town. Circuses were a thing of the past. His stepdad was right.
The sounds stopped getting closer, but they didn’t fade away. He could still hear the cheering and the machinery.
He took a deep breath and his lungs filled with air saturated with greasy fried food odors and cooked sugar. He smelled popcorn and freshly made cotton candy. His stomach growled reminding the boy that he’d eaten very little of his dinner last night.
He could easily ignore the music, but those smells were another thing all together. He wanted to bite into a sweet and salty corn dog. He needed to lick those last remnants of powdered sugar from his fingers after scarfing down a funnel cake.
He couldn’t have stopped his feet from moving towards those smells if he’d wanted to. He didn’t try to resist. Imaginary or not, he was hungry.
He moved slowly at first towards the smells, but as the sounds and the smells increased, he started jogging. He was going to find the source.
He followed the gravel path through the woods towards what should have been farmland. In fact, he knew at some point, he’d crossed the border from the public forestry and onto Mr. Stroust’s farm. He was a mean old farmer. Everyone knew to stay off his land.
The boy didn’t stop. The source of everything was on Stroust’s farm. The boy understood that didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t care.
He came out of the trees where the path should have ended and rows of corn should have been, but the path went right up to a fair. The opening was lined with temporary fencing wrapped in colorful lights.
It was there. He saw the rides moving and flashes of people moving by. He tried to watch the people as they were walking around, but no matter where he looked, the people were blurred. In fact, he couldn’t figure out how to get tickets for the rides because the person in the ticket booth seemed to be moving in and out of focus.
He kept walking. He couldn’t get food either. The people at every booth were there, but also they weren’t.
The smells were overwhelming. His stomach was growling even more. He kept moving through the carnival, hoping he could figure out how to be a part of everything around him.
He followed the main thoroughfare towards the center of the fair. The path took him straight to the Big Top.
He didn’t have a ticket, but he went in anyway. He stopped as he passed through the tent and the spotlight moved to shine right at him.
“Come one, come all. Take a seat in the front!” A voice boomed through the tent.
The boy hesitated. It was like the circus was just for him. It knew when he was coming into the tent. The light was blinding. He couldn’t see around him or who had spoken. He squinted into the light and hesitated a moment longer.
“Don’t be shy,” the voice boomed again.
He took a deep breath and let his feet guide him. He made his way to the front row of the bleachers. As he made contact with the wooden seats, there was a momentary flash and everyone and everything came into focus. The sounds increased in volume and the smells intensified. He saw the people sitting next to him clearly.
The ringmaster smiled at the boy and tipped his hat.
“Let the show begin,” he grinned as he spoke, his teeth so white and shiny they were practically sparkling.
Still Working on My Novel 