Carnivale
The First and Only Chapter
Consistency.
It was something that Ava's life had never had much of.
Her father was a prominent military figure, always traveling around the world to talk to troops, or check on things in some military base or another. He was never home, never consistent.
Her mother, as caring and sweet a woman as she was, could never seem to stay healthy. She was always sickly, going to the doctor, taking the same amount of pills as women twice her age. It got to her eventually, the sickness, and she spent her last months in bed, watching the leaves change color.
Autumn had been her favorite season, and it was Ava's too.
Without any siblings, Ava spent much of her time outdoors, exploring the woods as any girl her age would do. But there was something on her family's property that no other girl had.
She discovered, that if she followed the trail behind the house, the one shrouded in ferns and trees of all kinds, she could get to the ruins of a place that she knew had been magical at one point.
For, on the very edge of Ava's property, sat what remained of "The Gypsy's Carnivale".
Or, at least, that's what the sign said. It was obvious the sign had once been painted a vibrant red, but when Ava first found it, the wind had blown chips of a faded maroon at her, the kind that stuck to her gloves and coat. What Ava loved most about the sign, was how it was 'carni-vale' instead of 'carnival'. For some reason, it made her feel as if this place was a secret, long kept by the land, only for her to know. She never told her parents of it, though she had a feeling they already knew of its existence.
The whole place was intact when she happened upon it, only faded and weathered.
The rides were still there, although some were only skeletons of their former selves, only able to tell stories of their past glory.
The Ferris Wheel was the first thing Ava saw. Although small, no more than 20 feet high when the carts reached to top, she loved it right away. Whenever the wind blew, the carts would creak, sending shivers down her 10 year old spine. She had spent many hours sitting in the lowest box, thinking, contemplating, crying. It had been where she sat after her mothers death finally sank in.
There was another structure, but Ava couldn't tell for sure what it had been, maybe a Tilt-A-Whirl type ride? She never went on that one, it looked far too unstable to support weight anymore.
Then there was the carousel. It sat in the far corner of the had-been carnival, hidden partly by the old, blue, game booths that wobbled in the wind. All the horses still sat on their poles, frozen forever in mid-jump. The Carousel was the only thing that hadn't completely faded. The gold paint still shone brightly, reflecting, almost blindingly, when the sun hit it.
It was Ava's favorite thing. Sometimes, when the wind was particularly strong, it would propel the ride forward, inch by inch, and the music would start. The tune was broken, twangy, and slightly off key, but it was always the same.
The old fair had its own brand of beauty. It was proof to the fact that everything old is beautiful. As lovely as Ava thought it was in the day time, she thought it looked best at night. The moon reflecting off the old metal entranced her.
She had spent many a night-time, standing underneath the old sign, imaging what it would have looked like at this time when it was in its hey-day. The lanterns would have been light, and strung all around. Their would be little children running around, balloons tied to their wrists, and their faces would reflect the unearthly glow of the multi-colored lights of the rides. The air would be filled with music, laughter, and shouts of the game workers, trying to entice people to come to their booths and play the games. Sometimes, she could almost smell the caramel bread that was sure to have been made.
The Carnivale was hers, and hers alone.
~ ~ ~ ~
Now, years later, a lone figure stood looking up at a building.
The house was old, with wood siding that had long since turned gray. It was nestled back in an old hollow, and from far away, the building looked as if it tilted slightly to the right. The windows were dusty, on both inside and out, the stairs of the front porch had broken long ago, and shingles were few and far between. Weeds and grass grew rampant in a yard that had once been filled with luscious green grass and beautiful flowers. In the wind, what was left of the screen door would bang ominously against the side of the house. Nobody lived there anymore.
The person knew no-one had occupied this place for a good 9 years.
Ava was 25 now, and more confused than she had ever been. As she made her way down the secluded trail, her shoes crunching the dried red leaves, she thought of where her life was at the moment.
She had dropped out of college, both parents were dead and she had no-one she could call a true friend. Ava had lost her job long ago, and didn't know of anyone that could or would lend her any money. She had no where left to go but home, and now, that was nothing too.
Before she even realized it, Ava was sitting on the Carousel, letting the rough wind blow her hair around her face, and raise goosebumps on her arms beneath the thin jacket she wore. What she hated most about her life at the moment was the fact that it was unpredictable. Ava never knew if she would eat that day, or where she would sleep. She liked to be able to have a schedule for her days, and stick to that, for everything to be consistent.
Ava sat on the carousel for hours, the grey sky never giving away the time. One particularly strong gust of wind blew down upon her, and that, combined with her weight, moved the carousel forward, inch by inch. Its ongoing momentum started the music, and the familiar tune rang throughout the otherwise quiet forest. It was then that Ava realized why she was always drawn to the carousel- Because no matter how old the place was, what the weather was like, or what was going on in the world, the music never changed. The melody was always the same. No matter how erratic and unplanned her life was, the music had the one trait she valued most.
It was consistent.
It was something that Ava's life had never had much of.
Her father was a prominent military figure, always traveling around the world to talk to troops, or check on things in some military base or another. He was never home, never consistent.
Her mother, as caring and sweet a woman as she was, could never seem to stay healthy. She was always sickly, going to the doctor, taking the same amount of pills as women twice her age. It got to her eventually, the sickness, and she spent her last months in bed, watching the leaves change color.
Autumn had been her favorite season, and it was Ava's too.
Without any siblings, Ava spent much of her time outdoors, exploring the woods as any girl her age would do. But there was something on her family's property that no other girl had.
She discovered, that if she followed the trail behind the house, the one shrouded in ferns and trees of all kinds, she could get to the ruins of a place that she knew had been magical at one point.
For, on the very edge of Ava's property, sat what remained of "The Gypsy's Carnivale".
Or, at least, that's what the sign said. It was obvious the sign had once been painted a vibrant red, but when Ava first found it, the wind had blown chips of a faded maroon at her, the kind that stuck to her gloves and coat. What Ava loved most about the sign, was how it was 'carni-vale' instead of 'carnival'. For some reason, it made her feel as if this place was a secret, long kept by the land, only for her to know. She never told her parents of it, though she had a feeling they already knew of its existence.
The whole place was intact when she happened upon it, only faded and weathered.
The rides were still there, although some were only skeletons of their former selves, only able to tell stories of their past glory.
The Ferris Wheel was the first thing Ava saw. Although small, no more than 20 feet high when the carts reached to top, she loved it right away. Whenever the wind blew, the carts would creak, sending shivers down her 10 year old spine. She had spent many hours sitting in the lowest box, thinking, contemplating, crying. It had been where she sat after her mothers death finally sank in.
There was another structure, but Ava couldn't tell for sure what it had been, maybe a Tilt-A-Whirl type ride? She never went on that one, it looked far too unstable to support weight anymore.
Then there was the carousel. It sat in the far corner of the had-been carnival, hidden partly by the old, blue, game booths that wobbled in the wind. All the horses still sat on their poles, frozen forever in mid-jump. The Carousel was the only thing that hadn't completely faded. The gold paint still shone brightly, reflecting, almost blindingly, when the sun hit it.
It was Ava's favorite thing. Sometimes, when the wind was particularly strong, it would propel the ride forward, inch by inch, and the music would start. The tune was broken, twangy, and slightly off key, but it was always the same.
The old fair had its own brand of beauty. It was proof to the fact that everything old is beautiful. As lovely as Ava thought it was in the day time, she thought it looked best at night. The moon reflecting off the old metal entranced her.
She had spent many a night-time, standing underneath the old sign, imaging what it would have looked like at this time when it was in its hey-day. The lanterns would have been light, and strung all around. Their would be little children running around, balloons tied to their wrists, and their faces would reflect the unearthly glow of the multi-colored lights of the rides. The air would be filled with music, laughter, and shouts of the game workers, trying to entice people to come to their booths and play the games. Sometimes, she could almost smell the caramel bread that was sure to have been made.
The Carnivale was hers, and hers alone.
~ ~ ~ ~
Now, years later, a lone figure stood looking up at a building.
The house was old, with wood siding that had long since turned gray. It was nestled back in an old hollow, and from far away, the building looked as if it tilted slightly to the right. The windows were dusty, on both inside and out, the stairs of the front porch had broken long ago, and shingles were few and far between. Weeds and grass grew rampant in a yard that had once been filled with luscious green grass and beautiful flowers. In the wind, what was left of the screen door would bang ominously against the side of the house. Nobody lived there anymore.
The person knew no-one had occupied this place for a good 9 years.
Ava was 25 now, and more confused than she had ever been. As she made her way down the secluded trail, her shoes crunching the dried red leaves, she thought of where her life was at the moment.
She had dropped out of college, both parents were dead and she had no-one she could call a true friend. Ava had lost her job long ago, and didn't know of anyone that could or would lend her any money. She had no where left to go but home, and now, that was nothing too.
Before she even realized it, Ava was sitting on the Carousel, letting the rough wind blow her hair around her face, and raise goosebumps on her arms beneath the thin jacket she wore. What she hated most about her life at the moment was the fact that it was unpredictable. Ava never knew if she would eat that day, or where she would sleep. She liked to be able to have a schedule for her days, and stick to that, for everything to be consistent.
Ava sat on the carousel for hours, the grey sky never giving away the time. One particularly strong gust of wind blew down upon her, and that, combined with her weight, moved the carousel forward, inch by inch. Its ongoing momentum started the music, and the familiar tune rang throughout the otherwise quiet forest. It was then that Ava realized why she was always drawn to the carousel- Because no matter how old the place was, what the weather was like, or what was going on in the world, the music never changed. The melody was always the same. No matter how erratic and unplanned her life was, the music had the one trait she valued most.
It was consistent.