The Carousel (part one of a short story)
>> Sunday, June 30, 2013
Hey ya'll, life is a little crazy right now (in the best way possible), so today I'm just gonna post part of a short story I wrote recently. I'll post the second half soon!
Carousel
The old merry-go-round was built in the mid twentieth
century. No one, not even the quiet,
elderly operator Lewis, could remember exactly when. But grandparents and great grandparents occasionally
remarked fondly on how this merry-go-round was a piece of history, built during
the golden age of carousels, long before they were found in strip malls or inside
traveling state fairs.
No, this was a true carousel, featuring elaborate animals,
chariots, and intricate details. People
conjectured that the wood carver must have been a magician, so lifelike and
enchanting were the creatures that rode round and round.
There were several horses—a beautiful black stallion with
wild eyes, a jewel encrusted mare with her head held high, a spotted pinto
poised mid gallop, and many more.
There was also a peacock, his plumage a kaleidoscope of
colors. A mighty stag with antlers of
bronze. There was a panda bear, her blue
eyes wide and inviting, and a giraffe with a long, elegant neck. A tigress leapt beside a frolicking
Dalmatian; a camel with burgundy blankets stood next to a golden seahorse. Mid-hop was a saddled brown hare; a proud
rooster heralded an ever-rising sun with wings half-spread.
The carousel rested in the remains of a once celebrated
park; on all sides were the sounds and sights of a city. But the little patch of land around the
merry-go-round had maintained a sense of calmness and serenity, even as life
hustled and bustled past nearby.
As time ticked by, less and less people visited the
carousel. Those who knew about it took
their children for a picnic or walked by periodically to reminisce. Men and women who had ridden the animals in
their youth marveled at how well the machine had been preserved, though they
had not once seen any work done on it.
But somehow the creatures’ colors stayed true and somehow the
mechanism’s wheels kept turning.
When asked about the upkeep, Lewis simply shook his
head. He knew no more about the beloved
ride than those who paid him a dollar to ride it.
One warm, mid-summer evening—just like many others before—Lewis
closed the carousel for the night. As
usual, he flipped the main switch and clicked off a series of other controls
before closing and locking the merry-go-round’s gate. And, as was the old man’s custom, he tipped
his hat once toward the animals before shuffling off to his car.
Night fell, as night is prone to do, and an opalescent moon
tiptoed her way into the sky.
Silver light melted down the animals’ edges; the shimmer
made it look as though the brown hare blinked.
And then, with a rustling of her fur, she did blink—several
times to dislodge days of dust. She
catapulted from the carousel, her back legs springing her forward, and by the
time she hit the ground her paws had turned into human feet.
In the place of a wooden rabbit stood a nubile young woman,
long tumbles of brown hair falling over pale shoulders. A button nose, which she twitched
periodically, and large, green eyes gave her a mischievous, flighty feel. Joyously she bounced around the
merry-go-round, singing softly, taking full breaths of the sweet night
air. Following her in transformation was
the peacock; the bird shifted into a beaming man in a suit of turquoise, a hand
mirror stuck in his jacket pocket. Then
the panda bear—an older, roly-poly woman with a caring smile. The black stallion—a stern gentleman with
scars down his face and hands in his pockets.
The white mare—a blonde girl with an upturned nose and a penchant for
wealthy men. The Dalmatian—a little boy
missing his front tooth and running in excited circles.
Within several minutes all of the wooden creatures had
become human and stood about stretching, laughing, and chatting.
It had been, they decided after some argument, over five
years since the last metamorphosis, and each was eager to do as they
pleased.
So, with waves and smiles and an urgent reminder to be back
before the sun came up, they took off across the city.
The white mare pranced off toward the sound of revelry, her
neck and wrists sparkling with jewels.
She was eager for the taste of alcohol and the touch of a man’s hands.
The little boy, the Dalmatian, hurried to where an all-night
arcade had been at the time of his last outing.
If he was lucky they were still in business, and the pizza place next
door still sold a slice of three-cheese for a dollar.
Mother panda bear shuffled happily in the direction of the
homeless shelter. It had always been her
passion to serve others, whether on the carousel or on the streets.
The peacock took another look at himself, ran a hand through
his thick, feathered hair and set off with the intention of eliciting oohs and
aahs from the city’s nightlife. If he
felt especially good, he might pop into a karaoke bar to really show off.
Meanwhile, the black stallion sat down on a park bench to
wait. While the others engaged in
flights of fancy, he would spend the next ten hours deep in thought. He had never liked the transformation; it
gave him too much time to relieve the things that came before.
Lastly the rabbit, her nose crinkling, bounded into the
night in search of the same thing she looked for each and every time.
She started out in her usual happy-go-lucky state of mind,
convinced that this time would be the time she found him. Even she had lost track of the years since
the carousel started, but she knew that, somewhere, he was out there. He had to be.
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