Within a narrative of stale popcorn and cotton candy dreams stands a small canvas tent.
Weathered from disinterest but living nonetheless within the carnival’s subtext, the tent precariously stands at a slight angle as its stained cracks crawl around a mere flap of material that, during a stiff wind, conveys a teasing invitation into a creepy catacomb. It is, without a doubt, a distant cousin to its big-top counterpart.
The players—a master and marionette, both relics from a bygone era—sit upon a crumbling stage, ready to gift their performance to an audience of eager eyes and believing minds. Once seated, it’s the assumption of innocence that fuels the comfort of the audience as the man begins to move each of his arms in succession alongside the goofy and playful gestures of the clumsy doll. However, it’s when the doll lets go of the strings and leaps from the lap of her marionette—into the audience and of her own accord—that panic and mayhem set in. The man slumps over, inanimate and staring blankly at the chaos caused by his horrific master.
Illusion, dear readers, can be a dangerous reality.
© 2017 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.