A Trade Too Much

The Carnival comes once a year.

It’s a mystery, she thinks, how the artists manage to set their tents so quickly without anyone noticing, but when the fated day comes, they are already set, lights hanging and flags waving.

Parents all over town look weary of the Carnival; strangers are not to be trusted, after all. Strangers will doom us all, say the Elders. Her parents think so too. But she does not care.

After all, she loves the Carnival.

This year, she is finally old enough to go on her own to the Carnival, as anyone under the age of sixteen is banned from the show. Her parents do not want her to go, but everybody knows that whoever wishes to enter the Carnival will find their way inside. That’s just how things are.

The Carnival is so big that it looks absurd. The stands go as far as her eyes can see, stretching and stretching. Her feet do not hesitate and carry her to the first one, then another, and another. There are fantastic little trinkets and treasures everywhere: she finds a clock that sounds like a human heart, a ring that is warm to the touch after spinning it three times, and a string that can only be cut with nasty words. Her pockets empty rather quickly. Having realized that, she cannot bear to look at the seller anymore.

-What’s the matter little bird? –the old woman stares her up and down as she snatches a rainbow-tinted shell that tells secrets from her hands. –Out of money already?

She nods, ashamed. –That seems to be the case, yes.

The old woman smiles, -But that is hardly a problem, is it? There are many things you possess that are more valuable than money. Here at the Carnival, we trade everything. It’s truly a marvelous place. –She smiles again with perfectly straight, white teeth. Even at her age, she’s still remarkably beautiful –Tell you what, I’ll give you this shell if you give me three locks of your hair.

-Of my hair? –Her hand reaches unconsciously to her head – I’m afraid I don’t understand. I’ve always been told that my hair is very pretty, but I don’t believe it is as valuable as this shell.

-It is very pretty indeed. I wish I had luscious hair like yours. Three locks of it seem like a fair price.

-Well, if you are so sure then so be it.- They shake hands, and, swiftly as a spring breeze, the old woman cuts three locks of her hair. The shell is now in her hands.

-Pleasure doing business with you, little bird. –She smiles again, widely, wildly. –It is indeed a very good deal.

She doesn’t know how to answer, so she curtsies and goes to another stand. And, oh, the old woman was so right: the Carnival is truly a marvelous place. Money is not needed to get what she wants. The sellers ask for so little and give her so much! Three secrets for a bottle that contains all of the salt of an ancient sea, a kiss for a key that opens all doors that cannot be opened, her freckles for a necklace that makes the bearer feel the embrace of a mother.

This is the land of marvels and wonders! Everywhere she goes there’s a new treasure to acquire. Off with her ability to cry, more of a nuisance than a blessing, goodbye to all the memories of her first five years of life –she doesn’t remember that much anyways- it’s even easier to part with her middle name, which she despises anyways. Who cares about all the fights she’s ever had or all the wrinkles she’ll ever get?

She trades, and trades and trades. Eventually, she has to stop at a near stand as she feels as if she could fall any time. The girl inside manages to catch her before she tumbles to the ground. Moving with just a leg is harder than it seems.

-Parece que alguien ha perdido el rumbo –the girl is so pretty and smells like tangerines –siéntate un ratito a mi vera, ¿quieres?

Nothing that comes from the girl’s mouth makes any sense. She can’t remember if she has traded her ability to understand languages. She tries to speak, but her mouth feels weirdly hollow.

The girl pulls some cards from a wooden box and shuffles them without looking. –Tres cartas: una para el pasado, otra para el presente y otra para el futuro. Es la manera tradicional de hacerlo, ¿sabes? No bueno, supongo que no. –She pulls three cards from the deck. It is a very peculiar one, she must say. Instead of clubs, hearts, spades and diamonds, it has coins, garrottes, swords and goblets. –Tienes unos ojos azules muy bonitos. Por el color de tus ojos, te leeré tu primera carta. No es un mal trato, ¿verdad?

She nods, not quite getting what she’s saying, but eager to see what she intends to do. The girl puts down a card and flips it, showing the picture of a funny man holding a goblet. She says something more and pulls another card. This time, the picture represents three coins forming a triangle. The girl smiles at her: all-white sharp teeth and she blinks in surprise. That’s the last thing she sees.

-Supongo que no tiene mucho sentido que la saque ahora, pero bueno, un trato es un trato. –The girl makes shuffling noises and then lets a soft “Oh”. –Qué curioso. Está vacía. –she sights, and now that she can’t see, the girl’s voice sounds tired and older. - Mala suerte.

The noises stop after a while, and she guesses that the girl must have left, so she tries to stand up. Standing over one leg, she approaches the closest noise. She wonders what could they possibly be saying. Her focus on the foreign voices is so intense that she barely notices falling to the ground. Someone helps her stand up and then she cannot feel her fingers anymore.

More people crush into her. With every touch, she feels something slipping away: an ear, her lungs, her heart, her thoughts. A touch to many and she forgets her brother, her parents, herself. But she does not care.

After all, she loves the Carnival.