Frozen Carnival
By Christian Westerlund
I stood outside the carnival area for a while, observing it. Something about it made me cold inside—this image of a carnival, frozen, in the middle of the December winter. Something about it frightened me. It made me shiver inside, made my hands tremble.
With these feelings inside of me, I entered the carnival area. There was no laughter, no screams and no loud voices. Just a ghostlike silence. I walked between the circus tents. A pumpkin head lay in the snow, looking at me with its hollow smile.
"Welcome!"
For a second I thought the pumpkin head had spoken, but I realized that the voice came from behind me. I turned around. There stood a woman dressed in black. Her brown eyes almost seemed to shimmer as she smiled at me.
"Welcome to our carnival."
"Thank you."
"You seem a bit lost, are you looking for something?"
"Not really, just looking around."
Her black dress was thin, but she did not seem to mind the cold.
"What kind of a carnival is this?" I asked.
"A carnival of dreams, my friend. A carnival of dreams."
"A carnival of dreams?"
"Yes, this is a place were all of your dreams can come true."
"Really?"
She took a step forward. I could feel the smell of her hair, like flowers in bloom at summer. Her brown eyes met mine.
"Just make a wish…and it will come true."
I looked around, and suddenly I realized what was so very wrong with this whole carnival. There were no children around. No laughing kids, no smiling faces. And the people in the roller coaster didn’t make a sound as it plummeted down. Every one I saw had the same hollow expression in their faces.
"What kind of carnival is this?" I asked again.
She smiled. "Just make a wish…"
"And it will come true?"
"Yes."
I looked at her. She was so beautiful. She stretched out a hand a touched my face.
"Just make a wish, my sad friend."
"All right. I wish…."
"Tell me what you wish…" she cooed.
"Please take away the pain in my heart."
She smiled with compassion.
"Please just make the pain go away."
She caressed my face. "Wish granted."
** **
It was later that night. The black dressed woman sat alone in her tent with the body of the dead young man in her arms gently singing to him and touching his hair. His eyes were shut, and his face was peaceful.
"Where you are now, there is no pain," she said. "You are free from it."
She sat there for hours, singing to his dead body and touching his hair.
"Wherever you are, I hope that you can find the happiness that you did not find in this life." And she kissed his pale forehead with her soft lips.
<End>
Author’s Bio
Christian Westerlund lives and writes in Sweden. This dream inspired short story is his first in MSF&F.
