The carnival emerged from the fog like a beacon. Swirling lights, sweet smells, dancing acrobats, and juggling clowns.
Wide-eyed children openly stared as the carnival marched into the empty lot in town. What had been on the lot before was lost to history. All in town only thought of it as "the lot." As the carnival set up, some protested, saying that they couldn't just use the lot, they had to get permission. The ringmaster displayed a written document permitting them use of what was referred to as "the lot," which was odd as one would think an official document would say the address of the lot. Yet, no one knew the address of the lot or who would be the one to grant permission, so no one could tell whom to complain to or to verify this document.
And so set up went on. A whirling dervish with swings joyfully spinning around it was constructed in what seemed like no time. A ferris wheel that allowed carnival-goers to see far into the dense pine woods on a clear day went up next. Then came the booths of games that somehow seemed both fun and a bit rigged. Yet, despite this, all who played walked away with a prize along with a smile from the carnival workers that were infectious. Finally, came the food. Sweet smells of spun sugar, light as cotton and swirled on a paper cone, and thick smells of funnel cakes coated in powdered sugar wafted through the air, mingling with the salty scent of gigantic pretzels the size of a toddler's head.
The whole town flocked to the lot to see the site and take in the food, games, and rides. While some rejoiced in the novelty, for no carnival had ever come to the town before and--in fact, they only knew to call it a carnival based on the proudly painted sign at the entrance that simply read: CARNIVAL ENTRANCE--others were wary.
This intensity of sensation was suspicious to them. They had never experienced anything like it and thus did not trust it. The town was a normal place, they were proud to say. It had normal town festivities like parades for major celebrations and masses on important Christian holidays. The children of the town were not wild, nor were they overly mild. They simply were children. And surely this mysterious "carnival" was evoking something else in them.
And so the protests began. Folk demanded that the carnival leave town and take its dark pleasures with it. Think of the lot, they said. The lot had always been a place for the children to gather and play pretend. Now it was a devilish storm of flashing lights, all too enticing odors, and scarily made-up performers. These surely could not be good influences on the children of the town.
Yet no children felt this way. Even the children of the protesters could be found, sneaking out of their rooms after curfew and coming to the lot to enjoy in the decadence of the carnival. They tried to shower and change when they got come so the smells of the carnival did not linger on them. However, when protesters discovered their children smelled of spun sugar and salted pretzels, they did not blame the children. Instead, they blamed the carnival.
However, not all of the town was up in arms. Many were enjoying the delights of the carnival. They made memories that would stay with them forever: kisses on the ferris wheel, joyous screams on the swirling swings, sweet and salt-coated tongues, and large fluffy prizes they would keep until they fell apart. Many rejoiced in the carnival and some even took up temporary jobs there.
And then, one night, the carnival simply wasn't there. The lot was as it had always been, showing no signs of wear and tear. Some who had taken up temporary jobs seemed to have vanished with it, but others remained. Some of the town wondered what had become of their beloved carnival and those who had worked for it, others praised its disappearance.
Yet all, every last one, had a secret hope to see it again.
(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)
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