The Carnival

The boy stayed up there for much of the day, fell asleep briefly, woke up sunburnt and felt foolish, and found that he couldn't stand to wait any longer, so well before sundown he grabbed his sack and, barely aware that it was for the last time, he went out. When he got to the fairgrounds, the attraction was closed early, and Griffin was waiting for him--and, the boy saw with a start, he wasn't alone: He had the secret cabinet open, and SHE was waiting for him too, with her aqua skin and shining scales and bare breasts; she watched with eyes like shiny pennies as he slipped into the tent flap.

He was barely aware of Griffin, even as the old man took the bag from him. "You've decided then?" he said, but the boy didn't answer with words. His feet shuffling, he walked toward the cabinet, drawn toward the woman's stare and the ever-so familiar impression of water splashing somewhere.

In the flickering lantern light, the boy made out the supple curve of the woman's lips, that thinnest of all smiles. His hands were shaking; he couldn't stop them. "'Sirenus Oceanus,'" Griffin said. "The siren of the seas. Not that she's much for singing--but you hear her song anyway, don't you?"

The boy did indeed imagine that, just like in his dreams. He even imagined that she was reaching out for him now, waiting to draw him into a cold but comforting embrace. Without thinking, the boy pulled off his shirt and let it fall to the ground. He kicked his shoes away too, not bothering to pay attention to where they landed. He knew the old man was still watching, but it barely crossed his mind.

"Of course you hear her: That song brought you here in the first place. Not everyone hears it: only the very special ones. She's like me that way, always on the lookout for the rare, the strange--the truly one-of-a-kind."

The boy was naked now, and the pleading of those outstretched arms brought him right to the precipice of the display; he was going to fall into those waters and straight into the arms of destiny. He imagined in that secret ocean it must be warm and inviting, and the sacred waters traced a line down every glorious curve of her body.

"You're the pearl in the oyster," Griffin continued. "Is that the song you hear? What are the words in your heart? What has she composed now, just for you?"

Just how deep did the waters go? He imagined diving in and the two of them swimming forever, down into those strange depths, where it might be dark but where they could see to eternity. Just a little further now...

It was only the slightest pause, a blinking interlude in the allure of the spell--but it was enough, perhaps, for the boy to finally notice what he'd never seen before in that face, those lips, those eyes, the grasping hands before, something that had always been there but had, somehow, simply never crossed his notice. When the mermaid looked at him, it was with affection, yes, and with longing too, but that longing was laced with something deeper and more profound:

Hunger.

The boy tried to scream, but there wasn't time: All at once, she sprang forward, reached out of the secret cabinet and, wrapping her arms tight around the boy, she pulled him back into the darkness with her, and they both disappeared. Somewhere far away was the sound of a splash in distant waters, and then...nothing.

On their own, the doors shut; on its own, Griffin's key turned in the lock.

And that was all.

***

The carnival left town the next morning. It might return next summer, but nobody could say for sure; nobody could even be sure if the town would be here for another summer. That was the way of things.

Dr. Cooger's Museum of Human Oddities, Scientific Curiosities, Medical Marvels & Experiments of Nature left with everyone else. Despite the size of the collection and the tremendous challenges it presented, Griffin packed up everything on his own in just a few hours, and moved even the heaviest exhibits with ease, despite his age. If anyone else had been present, they might have thought that the old carny looked better now than he had in some time: Not younger, exactly, but stronger, more potent, less worn-through than he had when they first arrived in town.

But nobody was there to notice; the other carnival folk always kept their distance from Griffin, and from his tent.

Which meant nobody was around to witness the last thing he did, which was to take an old sack that was half filled with a young man's clothes and a few meager personal trinkets to a quiet place on the edge of town, dig a hole just a few inches deep, and bury it.

There had been a time in his life when he'd have done something solemn to mark occasions like this, but all he did this time was leave two pennies in the minor grave, kick enough dirt over it that it wouldn't be found for a week at least. And then, before he left, said just six words, that nobody but the wind heard:

"Carne vale--farewell to the flesh."

Summer couldn't last forever. But there was always a younger summer on the horizon, if you just kept going toward it.