Anniversary at the Carnival

“If you change one aspect of a situation in a time of fear, it will almost immediately become less scary”.

That’s what my father used to tell me when I was young. The first time I remember him telling me this I was six years old. It was sometime in the night and I couldn’t go to sleep because I was convinced that the jacket hanging in my closet was being worn by a tall thin man. That he wasn’t really a man at all but just close enough that my limited vocabulary couldn’t think of anything else to call him. I laid awake and created a story for him, the more I thought about how he was in there, watching me, the scarier he became. I told myself he snuck in when no one was home, hid in my closet, stretched the fabric of my jacket over his spindly shoulders, and stood so still and flat that no one saw him. He had to bend at odd angles to fit and he was hiding his paper-thin appendages behind my dresses and coat hangers. At last, I couldn’t think about him anymore and I called for my father down the hall. He came into my room with sleep in his eyes but no anger on his face, although I almost certainly woke him up. I pointed to my closet, whispered to him my story so the paper man would not hear, and hoped he would rid my room of the foreign presence. Instead, he told me his theory, to change one aspect of the situation and see if my fear would go away.

He left for a second and came back with a night light, he walked over to the plug by the closet and said, “for example, things that terrify us in the dark often seem ordinary”, he paused and plugged it in, “when we turn on the light.”

He was right of course, there was no paper man in my closet and all my clothes hung freely on their hangers, unworn except by me. That is one of my earliest memories, but it is still clear 14 years later. Maybe it is because he told me the same thing many times after that night, like when I feared the crows in our backyard but only when it was gloomy and raining outside. He told be that if it were sunny, I would feed the crows like any other birds. So, the next time in rained, I tied my umbrella to the fence, stood under it to stay dry, pretended it was sunny, and held bird seed in my hand for the crows. I’ve kept many lessons that I learned from my father but this one was by far my favourite. Even as I grew and my fears became more realistic, I would simply add something funny or imagine one different detail and the fear would fade a little. Because of this I have always credited my father with the fact that I have almost no fears. Not heights, dogs, or spiders, that, when removed from crevices where they move much too quickly, are just so small and harmless.

So, the other day, when I won two free passes to the carnival from the raffle at work, I was excited. I had never been. I asked my girlfriend, Casey, if she had plans for Saturday, she said no, so I picked her up at 7. I thought it would be a fun surprise to celebrate our 1-year anniversary. As we pulled up however, I realized I had made a mistake. She had gone from laughing at her phone to silent with a strange look on her face. It wasn’t quite dread, but almost. I thought she may have read bad news or something.

“Casey, are you alright?”

“why didn’t you tell me we were going to the circus?”. She wasn’t angry, I think she was scared. Although I couldn’t imagine why.

“Baby, I wanted to surprise you. You don’t like carnivals?”

“No, I don’t. I hate clowns, okay? I know you’re a fearless crazy person but I’m normal. Normal people don’t like creepy, painted on, fake smiling weirdos”.

I took her hand in mine. I told her that clowns were just people like us, like her putting on her work uniform. Just people with jobs, to remember that behind the creepy smile they were only ordinary. She wasn’t really convinced. She knew all of that and they scared her any way. So instead, I told her all the things that I was excited about for the carnival. I was picturing cotton candy, Carmel corn, magic shows, and games where I could win her overpriced stuffed animals. Above all I told her I wouldn’t let any clowns near us. She agreed that she’d forget about the clowns to celebrate our anniversary.

The evening show didn’t start until 9 so we had about an hour to walk around before it did. We walked up and down 3 rows of booths. Some were selling rocks and crystals, there was an airbrush tattoo station, and we got our fortune read by a lady and her crystal ball. She said we were destined to make it as a couple, till death do us part. We were not even close to getting married, but it was a nice sentiment. We also took a short ride on the most rusted merry-go-round I had ever seen.  It made awful sounds the whole time, metal scraping on metal somewhere in the mechanics, but we made it. We headed to the big circus tent for the final show. In the middle of the tent there was a large circle sand with a short barrier holding the sand in. Around the circle there were wood bleachers that looked like they came from a high school football field. Casey and I got a seat close to the front and waited.

They closed the opening to the tent, and it got much darker than I thought it should have. With no warning a bright white spotlight lit up the space, focused on a hunched figure in the middle of the clearing. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust and before I could see what the figure was, I felt Casey put her head to my chest and I knew it must have been a clown. When I finally saw him, I held Casey a little tighter. He wasn’t terrifying but something about him unsettled me. He looked like a normal clown, white face paint, big smile, and goofy clothes. He moved through his performance seamlessly and I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly was creepy about him, but every single time he looked up into the audience I swear he was looking right at me. The clown left the stage and as he was leaving his body moved awkwardly and the spotlight made his shadow grow thinner and thinner until he was gone. All the other performers came out, Casey watched the rest with me. There was a magician in a top hat that used a opossum as an assistant instead of a rabbit which kind of grossed me out but Casey thought it was cute. There was also a girl that danced with batons and lit them on fire. It was an alright show, a lot of the costumes and routines were dated but it was still nothing I had ever seen before.

When the show was over there was a vendor on the opposite side of the tent selling peanuts out of a cart and I told Casey we couldn’t leave without having some. She followed the crowd pushing to get outside as I went to get us some peanuts. As I got closer to the cart, I saw the vendor was turned away from me, so I called out to him. He didn’t turn around until I reached the cart and I wished he hadn’t. It was the clown from the show. He had taken off the make up and clothes, but it was him. I could tell by the eyes, and he was definitely looking at me now. I quickly decided I didn’t need any peanuts and turned to follow Casey, but she was gone. The entire crowd was gone. I found it hard to believe that they all funneled out so quickly, but I started to make my way to the exit before giving it much thought. The tent wasn’t that large, and it had only taken me half a minute to walk to the vendor, but I kept taking steps forward and not moving anywhere. Every time I took a step the exit got further and further away. I slowly turned back towards the clown. He hadn’t moved at all and was still just watching me. I told myself he was just a man, a funny man who could not scare me.

I called to him “hello? What is going on? Who are you?”

His smile got wider, and he titled his head a bit, “don’t you recognize me? I suppose it has been a while, but don’t worry, I recognize you. Anna.

I didn’t like the way my name sounded in his mouth. All his words sounded painful to push out and his voice was hard to listen to like a record that scratches incorrectly. I told him to let me leave. He ignored me.

“Now that I think about it, I looked, different, last time I saw you. Give me a minute, these bones are dying to be stretched anyway.” He pushed the peanut cart away and he started to grow. He got taller and thinner by the second, I could hear his skin ripping but coming together just as quickly over his newly formed limbs. He kept changing until he was not a clown anymore, he was the paper man. I don’t know how it was him, I made him up when I was six, but he was towering over me with the same spindly shoulders and paper-thin body. I ran towards the exit again. I made it this time, but the carnival looked nothing like it had before. I ran out the exit into a wall of trees. I kept running through the forest, but nothing looked familiar. I was utterly lost and every time I looked over my shoulder, I felt the paper man just behind me. I tripped and fell onto a metal platform. I looked up and I was on the merry-go-round again. The terrible metal grinding was much worse now. I couldn’t hear anything else. I tried to stand up by holding onto one of the horses, but the metal was so rusted I cut my hand. When I finally stood up the merry-go-round was spinning so fast, I couldn’t get off. I was scared. I tried so hard not to be, but I couldn’t change what was happening and I couldn’t imagine anything else. I sat down and cried.

I choked out “I’m sorry Casey. I’m sorry Dad”.

I don’t know how long I sat there, it felt so long as it was happening but when it was over it felt like barely any time at all had passed. The merry-go-round finally stopped, and I got off. I wasn’t in the forest anymore. I was back at the carnival, but it was still deserted. I couldn’t find Casey, I yelled out for her, for anyone. I didn’t want to go back into the tent, but I couldn’t leave with out Casey and I had to make sure she wasn’t in there. I took a deep breath and pushed into the tent. No one was in there, it was empty, but the spotlight was still on. It was focused on a piece of paper in the middle of the stage of sand, held down by Casey’s shoe. I ran over to it.

The paper read “Sorry about the merry-go-round, you had to be kept busy. This was never about you. I’ve got her now.”

I had never felt fear like that before. The paper man wanted Casey, and he got her. I pulled out my phone to call her and I had one new voice mail. Her quiet voice came slowly through over the phone.

“I guess the fortune teller was right, till death do us part”, and the line went dead.