Page 30 of Cuervo's Carnival
“Pronto,” it hisses, as the hands I feel at my sides begin to violently shake my body, but I see nothing. It’s like my body is in a bubble.
Muffled voices begin to break through this barrier I have found myself trapped in.
My body is being jostled from side to side when I finally hear Cillian’s worried baritone. “Lo!” he shouts, shaking me. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t see it?” I ask, but neither of them responds.
My head shifts from side to side, taking in both Paxton’s and Cillian’s concerned expressions. The confusion I feel from their obliviousness quickly morphs into immense frustration.
“Didn’t you see it?” I shout, exasperated, throwing my hands up in the air in the direction of…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Fuck, what is happening to me?
I feel them close in, each of them grabbing hold of my hands.
“See, man. This is what I was telling you. Feel her hand,” Cillian mumbles with palpable concern.
But I drown out their bickering, fixing my gaze on the dense thicket of overgrown stalks of corn.
And once again, feeling a pull. Except, this time, it isn’t my neck, it’s my legs telling me to run.
* * *
“Lola, get back here.”
I ignore their gravelly call, increasing the distance between them and me. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up with me and try to convince me that I’m just tired or grief-stricken, and that’s why I think I saw something. Except, I know what I saw and what they didn’t, which is reason enough to find out why that is for myself.
Ever since I walked through that tunnel, it has felt like a switch flipped inside of me. I feel a connection to this place. I somehow feel at home among the withering buildings, decay, and reminders of death that have collected here. It’s like something in my mind, my body, and my soul has been ignited.
I continue moving farther into the darkened maze, unsure what to look for, when a small pocket of light steals my attention. Its dim gleam casts itself down to my feet, and like a magnet being pulled to a sheet of metal, I follow it.
Quickening my pace, the light that slithered its way past the dense walls of cornstalks becomes brighter. I keep following the illuminated path, until I can’t move anymore.
A wall of cornstalks, at least double my height, stands before me. My eyes squint from the bright light, creeping past the thick cobwebs that drape over the monstrous stalks of corn.
Curiosity taking over me, I slowly curl my fingertips on the curtain of webbing before me, moving the stalks along with it. A small path forms for me to slip through. Without looking ahead, I slide through the opening.
Once through, I straighten my stance. Now facing forward, a shiver creeps its way down my spine, rendering me motionless. Just beyond where I stand, with my back facing a field of rotting corn stalks and fallen debris, is a horse-drawn wagon as I have never seen before.
I want to gasp, but I can’t. My breath is suddenly stolen from me.
A lump of air lays dormant in my throat as I process the unexpected sign of life ahead. I blink feverishly, expecting the wagon before me to disappear, but it doesn’t. If anything, the longer I stare at it, the more alive it becomes in its pristine condition.
The gilded embellishments that are against the rich, mahogany wood are enhanced by the glowing lanterns on either side of the entrance.
Inching closer, I notice what rests just above the Dutch-style door.
“Madame Eronel,”I whisper to myself, reading the engraved wood plaque centered above the half-open door.
I continue closer, stopping by six evenly spaced steps on a short, wooden ladder leading up to the impressive vardo.
“Hello?” I call out, but as I suspected, there is no reply.
I scan the wagon once more before slowly walking up the steps that creak beneath my feet. The structure sways slightly, accommodating my weight as I make my way to the small doorway.
As soon as my feet grace the entrance of the wagon, I feel an odd sensation work its way against my flesh. It isn’t the coldness that has taunted me for weeks. Instead, it feels like a feather is brushing against my skin, stirring something inside me, but I can see nothing touching me.
I shiver from the sensation as I continue my intrusion into the space. “What the fuck?” I mutter to myself, trying to shake the feeling off my skin.
