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rainbowfic2015-02-01 10:59 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2015-02-01 10:59 pm
Rose Pink 9: Enchantment
Author: Kat
Title: Enchantment
Story: Sentient Carnival
Colors: Rose pink 9 (I dream about you)
Supplies and Materials: Photography, collage, fabric (this picture), glue (Sharing your dreams enables you to transmit vibes that capture others in your web of illusion. Your mind is powerful now and may even affect physical reality.)
Word Count: 836
Rating: PG
Summary: Music and singing and noise, and all I can hear is the sound of her laughter.
Warnings: none
Notes: Forthebonesofferalletters in every possible way. Also for Femslash February.
The carnival wheels spin and clatter, the music winds loud above the crowd and all I can hear is the sound of her laughter.
I used to be just like them, these people in their Sunday best with their wide eyes and their tokens and tickets clutched in sweaty hands. I remember my mother braided my hair too tight and my temples hurt a little when we walked into the fair. I wore my best hat, Mama her pearls.
Those pearls were the last we had of riches. We weren't bad off then-- we weren't starving-- but Papa sold almost every nice thing we had when things went sour. We used to go to the theater, and now we could barely afford the quarter admission for the carnival.
I didn't mind. The theater had always bored me and I never liked the scratchy fabric of best dresses. The carnival with its clamor and glamour drew me closer than distant actors on a distant stage ever had. It was like diving into the ocean, a sudden explosion of noise and color and life and I wanted it, I did. I wanted to run off into the crowd and dance into the night forever.
My mother held onto my arm so tight, I thought for sure she knew what I was thinking.
Still, I was not a girl who reached for what she wanted. I was not much used to wanting things. I was entirely unused to temptation.
And there she was.
Truthfully, it was probably at least an hour before I saw her first, but the time has shifted and elided in my mind. In my memory she is there instantly, her skirt low on her hips, her body lithe and loose-limbed. Gold encircles her wrists and neck, her waist and ankles. Bells dangle from her jewelry, so a soft chiming follows her with every step she takes. Her skin is a rich deep brown, her eyes gold-flecked umber, and when she laughs-- when she laughs, I am lost.
I lingered around her the rest of the night, and when my parents took me home I pretended she walked beside me. She haunted me in my dreams, a quirk of a smile tucked into her mouth, her eyes watching me beneath her lashes, the roll of her hips beneath her dress, her arm beckoning lazily.
The next night, I sneaked a quarter from my mother's purse, and crept out after dark, back to the carnival.
Time didn't seem to pass, when I was with her. She was kind to me; she let me trail after her through the night, and once she even smiled at me. I treasured that smile, held it to my heart as I crept back home in the pale dawning light.
I came again, and again, and again. Every night for two weeks I came to the carnival. After a time my life at night seemed more real than the daylight hours at home. The carnival people were more real than my own parents. The glitter, the glamour, the lights and the color, it hypnotized me, and always, always the beautiful girl in her swirling red dress, as her smiles and her laughter and her warm, lovely eyes turned ever more steadily to me.
I wish I could say that my parents discovered me gone, and were waiting for me in the morning, their arms crossed and their mouths set. Perhaps they would have shouted, banished me to my room, given me only bread and water. Or perhaps they would have been reasonable, and tried to understand where and why I went. Perhaps I would have shouted at them, defiant, or perhaps I simply would have slipped away, a ghost in their house. But none of that was true. They never knew anything. I simply... one morning I did not return home.
What the carnival takes, it does not give back.
Was she a lure, my beautiful girl, thrown out for a girl like me? I do not know, I do not care. If she was a lure she was a welcome one. If I took the bait, it was not poisoned.
We dance together now; her in her scarlet dress and me in night-sky blue. We pass hand to hand among the crowd, scraps of silk borne on the wind. She throws me a smile now and then, as her laughter floats above the crowd; I blow her a kiss sometimes, when I catch a glimpse of her past the rubes. We drift to bed as the sun begins to rise, while the morning dew settles around us. We lie together, my head on her breast to hear her heartbeat calm itself to sleep.
I do not know how many years have gone by, with her and me together. She has not aged, nor have I, so what does it matter?
We are of the carnival, and of each other. If this is a trap, it is one I shall never leave.
Title: Enchantment
Story: Sentient Carnival
Colors: Rose pink 9 (I dream about you)
Supplies and Materials: Photography, collage, fabric (this picture), glue (Sharing your dreams enables you to transmit vibes that capture others in your web of illusion. Your mind is powerful now and may even affect physical reality.)
Word Count: 836
Rating: PG
Summary: Music and singing and noise, and all I can hear is the sound of her laughter.
Warnings: none
Notes: For
thebonesofferalletters in every possible way. Also for Femslash February.The carnival wheels spin and clatter, the music winds loud above the crowd and all I can hear is the sound of her laughter.
I used to be just like them, these people in their Sunday best with their wide eyes and their tokens and tickets clutched in sweaty hands. I remember my mother braided my hair too tight and my temples hurt a little when we walked into the fair. I wore my best hat, Mama her pearls.
Those pearls were the last we had of riches. We weren't bad off then-- we weren't starving-- but Papa sold almost every nice thing we had when things went sour. We used to go to the theater, and now we could barely afford the quarter admission for the carnival.
I didn't mind. The theater had always bored me and I never liked the scratchy fabric of best dresses. The carnival with its clamor and glamour drew me closer than distant actors on a distant stage ever had. It was like diving into the ocean, a sudden explosion of noise and color and life and I wanted it, I did. I wanted to run off into the crowd and dance into the night forever.
My mother held onto my arm so tight, I thought for sure she knew what I was thinking.
Still, I was not a girl who reached for what she wanted. I was not much used to wanting things. I was entirely unused to temptation.
And there she was.
Truthfully, it was probably at least an hour before I saw her first, but the time has shifted and elided in my mind. In my memory she is there instantly, her skirt low on her hips, her body lithe and loose-limbed. Gold encircles her wrists and neck, her waist and ankles. Bells dangle from her jewelry, so a soft chiming follows her with every step she takes. Her skin is a rich deep brown, her eyes gold-flecked umber, and when she laughs-- when she laughs, I am lost.
I lingered around her the rest of the night, and when my parents took me home I pretended she walked beside me. She haunted me in my dreams, a quirk of a smile tucked into her mouth, her eyes watching me beneath her lashes, the roll of her hips beneath her dress, her arm beckoning lazily.
The next night, I sneaked a quarter from my mother's purse, and crept out after dark, back to the carnival.
Time didn't seem to pass, when I was with her. She was kind to me; she let me trail after her through the night, and once she even smiled at me. I treasured that smile, held it to my heart as I crept back home in the pale dawning light.
I came again, and again, and again. Every night for two weeks I came to the carnival. After a time my life at night seemed more real than the daylight hours at home. The carnival people were more real than my own parents. The glitter, the glamour, the lights and the color, it hypnotized me, and always, always the beautiful girl in her swirling red dress, as her smiles and her laughter and her warm, lovely eyes turned ever more steadily to me.
I wish I could say that my parents discovered me gone, and were waiting for me in the morning, their arms crossed and their mouths set. Perhaps they would have shouted, banished me to my room, given me only bread and water. Or perhaps they would have been reasonable, and tried to understand where and why I went. Perhaps I would have shouted at them, defiant, or perhaps I simply would have slipped away, a ghost in their house. But none of that was true. They never knew anything. I simply... one morning I did not return home.
What the carnival takes, it does not give back.
Was she a lure, my beautiful girl, thrown out for a girl like me? I do not know, I do not care. If she was a lure she was a welcome one. If I took the bait, it was not poisoned.
We dance together now; her in her scarlet dress and me in night-sky blue. We pass hand to hand among the crowd, scraps of silk borne on the wind. She throws me a smile now and then, as her laughter floats above the crowd; I blow her a kiss sometimes, when I catch a glimpse of her past the rubes. We drift to bed as the sun begins to rise, while the morning dew settles around us. We lie together, my head on her breast to hear her heartbeat calm itself to sleep.
I do not know how many years have gone by, with her and me together. She has not aged, nor have I, so what does it matter?
We are of the carnival, and of each other. If this is a trap, it is one I shall never leave.
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FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
*incoherent glee here*
I just
Everything
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