A Carnival Induced Delusion

Annabelle sat in the middle of the carnival, stripes and swirls of faded colors circled around her, meshing with the noises of the crowds. In a vintage fashion, the people around her walked by in slow motion, laughing louder than the music coming from the games around her. Annabelle didn't block it out, but she hummed the familiar tunes and clutched the fronts of her jeans. The faces of the crowds grew larger and smaller on their distorted bodies, and even the children's voices boomed and cracked any peace that was settled inside Annabelle's head.

She stood up now, everything seeming faster and slower than her at the same time. A haze covered her mind and she moved the way her body led her. If only this was the way people walked. It's so intruiging. Annabelle quickly found herself clutching the side of a snow cone cart, her head spinning again.

A bearded young man walked past her now, his cotton candy reaching high over his head and spinning around his torso. She scooted in front of him. She concentrated on her words, the way her lips moved, and looked right into his stern gaze. "Es-es-cuuse me sir? Mind tellin' me wheeere w-we are?" He looked at Annabelle and frowned at her worn appearance.

"Ellsworth."

She tilted her head to the side as he walked by. "Maine?" She slurred, trying to keep her vision still, just for one moment. He did a three-sixty as he continued to walk, the candy spinning faster, turning different shades of pink, and nodded. I wonder if he was alone too. She thought, looking up at the bright, Kodak skies. Ellsworth, Maine. Home sweet home.

This is where her life in the carnival "business" began. She ran off due to many issues that weighed her down. She once had a life filled with scholarships and success, fraternities in college, a nice clean shaven man. But she had no desire for the material life. She wanted art and to live a life where the people and scenery was abstract and inspiring. She wanted to learn about herself and the world around her, rather than fixing things that didn't need to be fixed. She came across the carnival around a year ago, and Margaret immediately took her in, despite her young age and anti-social tendencies.

And although she was greeted with warming hospitality, Annabelle never became at home.

"Annabelle, Honey. How are you doing?" It was Margaret now. She sat beside her and brushed the hair out of her face. She was worried, but didn't dare take the bottle out of Annabelle's hand. She didn't answer. Instead, she looking up at the Ferris Wheel in front of her. The laughter of its participants was heard over both yelled conversations and Winning Themes.

"Anne? Look at me. Look at me for once." She pulled her leg under her and faced Annabelle completely. She sighed and looked into Margaret's eyes, still not speaking. "Why don't you ever say anything?"

The autumn wind blew Anne's hair back into her face. She shrugged and took a long swig of the moonshine that had grown intimate in her hands. "Nothing to say." She loudly laughed at what seemed a joke to her, and turned back to the Ferris wheel. New groups of people entered the seats every few seconds. A continuous cycle, never ending. The thrill of the ride never lasting. Margaret rubbed Anne's shoulder and gave up. "I'm here if you need me." Before she left she took Anne's empty bottle out of her hands, leaving her with nothing but herself.

She walked up to the Ferris wheel. It was her favorite attraction. It was the one thing that took her mind off life. When she ran away from home for the first time, the Ferris wheel was the only thing on her mind. She stood at its base and looked up. The red and yellow colors accented the sky and shined as it turned, the sun's invincible face reflecting across the machinery.

Anne walked closer, ignoring the line and the warning signs painted on the metallic ground. She was watching the people pass by in a steady beat. Songs playing along with the whizzing of the seats fighting against the North East winds. The sweets of the riders filled her nose and blocked out the stinch of alcohol that lingered in her breath.

And then she saw his face pass by like a thousand tiny psychedelic masterpieces.

And he saw her. His eyes locked on hers, and they stared at each other for a split second before he began to struggle with his restraints, his expression a mirror image of Annabelle's. She could see him on the top, coming down like a long awaited tidal wave. And there was nothing else to do but run.

"Annabelle!" His soft, yearning voice called for her, came closer to her. If it wasn't for her recent "recreational" activities, she would have been able to out run him. He hugged her from behind, sending chills down every part of her body.

"Anne. Annabelle. Why won't you listen to me?!" He turned her to face him, and tears streamed down her dirty face, leaving trails on her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs and hugged her.

"I'm sorry." She slurred, shaking in his embrace. "I'm so sorry."

"It's over now. You're back."

"Just for now. I have to leave tomo--"

"No, Annabelle. You're not leaving me again." He locked in to her wandering eyes, his breathing filling the hole the past year's loneliness had created.

"How could you still love a person like me?" She squeezed his arms and sobbed, the alcohol and acid forming a world behind him. She coughed and breathed heavily, the shock controlling her actions. She couldn't break away, even if she wanted to.

"It isn't easy." he said, grabbing tighter onto her torn jacket. "But I can't stop. I've never stopped. Can't you see that! Don't you feel this?" He took Annabelle's face in his hands and kissed her.

The trance of the xylophones distorted chords recorded into megaphones pulsed in her ears. Images of clowns and naked contortionists danced through her clouded vision, her lost lovers face framed by these drug-induced hallucinations. The room spun faster: red, green, blue, orange melted into one blur. Heat rose to the top of her head. And she flew high.

"You don't understand..." her body collapsed under the weight of her imagination. I stopped feeling anything.