Materialize

The air was hot and thick. The sky was black as coal, streetlights illuminated through my eyes.
Screams of joy came from behind me. I turned on my heel. Carnival rides were spinning, flying, shaking. But no people. Only sounds.

The corners of my vision were blurred. Everything was so surreal.

I walked towards the sounds. And that’s when they appeared. Little girls in their dresses, young boys with their suspenders. Happy faces, wide smiles. Even the parents were excited. Cotton candy flew passed me, popcorn hit the pavement. I smiled wide as a little girl walked up to me and waved.
Her mouth opened, formed a word and closed. But there was no sound from her small body. Her smile seemed glued to her face as she looked up, awaiting my response. I furrowed my brows. She tried again, but this time everything was silent. Once she opened her mouth a screeching sound emitted from her mouth. Sending unease into my stomach. Her smile dropped and everything faded into the shadows. The rides hitched, sparks flying. Screams of horror took over the night. A sticky red substance ran under my feet.

Tttssssss

I turned around, searching for the strange sound.

A woman in rags stood before me. Her skin was a dark grey. Her shoulder hung down in a sickening way, looking dislocated. Her bottom lip was torn off almost completely. A once beautiful face was transformed into something repugnant. A howl of pain erupted from her lips before she was gone.
I turned away from the sight of utter emptiness and walked toward the carnival. I stepped onto a ride with large teacups. One teacup seemed to glow in all it’s coral beauty. I sat down slowly, hearing a soft piano in the distance.

“Hello, sir.” A young girl’s voice said in a British accent. I looked up to see a very serious expression plastered on the face of a five year old. She quirked her eyebrow and brought the bottle of Vodka up to her lips, taking a swig.

My face fell with shock. I was confused, disturbed. A cackle echoed through the air and the young girls face began to wrinkle. Her eyes were wild with amusement.

“Oh, you thought I was serious?” The voice no longer belonged to a young girl. “Don’t be so naïve!” The woman pointed at me, her hands were withered and freckled. Her eyes narrowed at me. She was stern, angry. She finished the bottle, threw it in the air and watched as it floated back down altering itself into a wild flower. “Don’t believe a word the trees say. They’re all drunks!” Her laugh sounded wicked, wrong. Her skin turned white, her wrinkles making her seem ancient.

And then it was over. The wind blew her ashes away.