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Bedtime Drama Fantasy

                                       ‘The Carnival King’ (page 1/2)

    For all the hype about New Orleans being the city of the Mardi Gras and the carnival floats, all night jazz and its Southern soul, it was still a shitty place to live in if you were not a tourist. Dexter had known this for 18 years, during which time him and his parents (more ‘ghost parents’ since they were never there) had lived in the Lower 9th. Ward, the poorest and the greyest of all the areas in New Orleans. It was a place of run-down houses, cracked windows, weed choked gardens and broken dreams. 

    His father was a blend of con man and hypochondriac who had worked once in the warehouse district in downtown New Orleans. That had lasted one month after which his father had gone off with a strained back. Thereafter he had claimed invalidity benefit from the State. The ‘thereafter’ had up to now lasted 15 years. His mother worked part time in a greasy diner (you know the type-the one that looks like a long silver bullet with windows and hard red revolving bum seats.) Ever since Dexter was a kid, his mother always had the smell of burger and onions about her-a smell that survived beyond the daily aerosol of cheap perfumes that she applied. 

    Out of this blight, there was one good thing in Dexter’s life and that was the girl he had met in High School that year called Sandie. ‘A firefly in the dark,’ Dexter used to think, pleased with his simple line of poetry. Unlike the other girls he had met in school, he was actually visible to her. Now, Dexter was not remarkable looking having come from two people cast from the plainest mould, into which no colour had been added. ‘You’ll never be an oil painting,’ his mother used to say, and then would mention something about genes. After that, genes were third on his shitty list after New Orleans and his parents. It was strange though, because after three months of seeing Sandie around school, she suddenly left, maybe for another school, who knows. Her disappearance was like a rose garden suddenly made bare, in which there remained only the planting holes like craters on a desolate stretch of soil.

    It happened that night when Dexter was flicking through the ‘Times Picayune’ newspaper that he saw the advert in the job section. He was looking for some part time work, since his parents never had money and were never told about ‘pocket money’ and how it applied to children.  Once he looked through his mother’s purse and found the saddest thing. The purse smelled of onions and inside it was a 5 cent piece stuck to some chewing gum. He decided then that he must be independent, get some work and move out. This advert though in the paper, was odd. It seemed to strangely stand out, not because it had a fancy box design around it, or fancy lettering but just, somehow did. It was very plain in fact, advertising for a part time warehouse night shift worker in the warehouse district of New Orleans. This area was composed of new modernised yuppie apartments intermingled with some of the oldest warehouses. This one was in Julie Street-Warehouse number 22. Beside the description was a phone number. Dexter decided to ring it, expecting it to ring for ages. In his mind, he pictured a vast dark warehouse and a solitary old fashioned 

                                              ‘The Carnival King’ (page 2/2)

phone ringing in a dust laden corner. The phone rang once and then was suddenly answered. The voice on the end of the phone was old and I mean, really old. It struggled to speak and replied in a voice that seemed to come from the grave. ‘Hello Dexter, are you enquiring about the job?’ Dexter felt the blood rising in his head and his first thought was that he has some high-tech device that could trace a person calling. Yes, that was it. The ancient voice continued. ‘Come to the address in the advert tonight at 9pm. I shall be at the door to meet you,’ and with that, the phone was put down, leaving a shiver running up and down Dexter’s neck. ‘It might be all right,’ thought Dexter as he looked at the clock. His parents were as usual not to be seen and he dressed slowly in his dark room, choosing a grey jacket and white shirt he had once used for a funeral. The warehouse area was quite far from where he lived so Dexter left early, taking two buses and walking the rest of the way. The entrance to the warehouse area, was composed of Art galleries and museums, slick restaurants and jazz clubs. He seemed to walk for ages past them all until he reached a darker and unknown part of the warehouse area. This was composed of old warehouses of which many had been shut. One in the middle caught his eye. It had a light falling through a half open door. ‘That must be it,’ thought Dexter. Immediately he saw a very old man waiting by the door. He greeted Dexter immediately. ‘You are just in time!’ he said, smiling, ‘Come with me.’ As he entered the narrow door, the vastness of the interior was inspiring. Wall to wall figures of giant clowns, pierrots and twelve foot high mermaids with garish faces looked down on them. He led Dexter to an ornate float, at the centre of which, stood a golden throne surrounded by kneeling mannequin figures looking up at it. The light from it was blinding and in an instance gone. The old man looked up at the figure of Dexter who was now sitting on the throne, his face a waxen stare and a glimmering crown upon his head. The old man smiled and bowed his head. ‘All hail to the new King of the Carnival. All hail to the King.’

                                      (1000 words)

May 11, 2021 11:13

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