The Sibylline Carousel — Part I
Fate’s a fickle thing, but familiar. It charges untamed, crashing across verdant pastures, eyes burning fierce and reckless. Determined. I ride this majestic beast, embrace the unbridled spirit so beautiful in its zealous desire, its raw abandon. I surrender to its will; free now from all obligation, from expectation.
Free.
Yet such ferocious beauty often leaves a scar. The sunny black eyed susans lay bruised and broken, the blue delphiniums tattered and torn. Ashes of dreams burned up in the fires of passion. Precious things erased in the blink of an eye. Dust to dust. Casualties of the unrelenting rush of fate. There’s always a price, always something that must be given.
Sometimes, fate asks too much.
I take the reins.
“Mommy, where are the clowns?” A tug on my coat.
“I don’t know, sweetie.” I pull another tent flap open, peering into the expansive darkness. Shadows flit and dance about, stirred to life by the light I allowed to invade their sacred space. Where is everyone? “We’ll look for them later.”
“A circus always has clowns,” she says, matter-of-factly.
The swath of heavy fabric falls, covering the opening I’d created, and we return to the dimly lit corridors between the tents. We wander, weaving our way from one garish towering structure to the next. Opening, looking, walking. No clowns, no people. I glance at my watch, now ten past eight.
Evelyn, ever the little trooper, had uttered not one complaint in the two hours of walking since we’d got off the bus. Her white blonde pigtails bob up and down as she trots along beside me, the two of us no more than silhouettes in twilight making our way through the labyrinthine circus grounds. Her black velvet dress, the one with the pretty silver buttons she’d insisted on wearing for Mommy’s special day, flares out beneath her like a glittery moon shadow cast upon straw-covered ground. She smiles up at me, curiously large eyes impossibly deep.
We come across some ropes criss-crossing along the ground, moving from one blue-and-white striped tent to the purple-and-gold one on the other side. I step gingerly over them, wary of lodging my heel in the cords. Evy bounds effortlessly over them, giggling as she scurries to catch up. She reaches into my pocket for my hand, clutches it with both of hers, then leans against me. She knows how important this is for us.
Such a warm-hearted little girl.
“What say we get some cotton candy after Mommy’s interview is over?” I give her little hands a gentle squeeze, then search the pocket of my tweed jacket for the coins we save for laundry. What’s another day or two? She deserves something sweet, decadent. A treat.
She deserves so much more than I can give.
We’re doing this for her.
Her face lights up. “Oh, I want pink flavour!”
Her lovely pale face reflects the warm light from lanterns strung overhead. We near a small clearing, but the tempo of our walk seems inadequate. Our pace becomes a jaunty skip, and we prance our way into an area with benches and kiosks, lit by the golden glow of lanterns and the first hints of starlight. In the centre of all that, we find a man in a black hat and trench coat standing atop a small circular riser. His attention is focused away from us, and he seems to be searching for something.
Finally, another living soul in this forgotten graveyard.
“Excuse me, sir?” I approach, nearly dragging Evelyn behind me in my hurry. I press the front of my skirt flat, adjust my hair. It’s too dark for me to check my reflection in the glass of the popcorn stand we rush past. “I’m here for the ad you placed in the paper? For the psychic?”
The man whirls around, shedding the trench coat onto the ground and unfurling a long silken cape that flutters out behind him with a flourish, a banner of impossible blackness billowing in the unfelt breeze. The hat is removed, tossed into the sky, and long tresses of bone-white hair spill onto bare shoulders. A woman stands before me wearing pristine white ballet slippers and a puffy alabaster tutu. The black cape is draped across her shoulder and held by an onyx clasp. Not a typical ballerina. And not a ‘sir’, either.
Shit. Another fantastic first impression.
“Yes, welcome to the Sibylline Circus!” The extravagant woman closes the gap between us, steps as quick and light as though floating on air. She extends a white-gloved hand towards me. “We’ve been expecting you, Catherine.”
We shake hands, her grip delicate yet sure. “A pleasure,” I say. This close, she seems impossibly thin, almost skeletal. A body fit for ballet, I suppose.
“And this must be little Evelyn?” She squats down to eye-level with my daughter, white glove now extended for her. A smile spreads across the strikingly handsome woman’s face. “So lovely to meet you. My name is Persephone.”
Evy smiles and curtsies, just like I taught her. “Nice to meet you, Miss Pers… Perseferny.”
“Close,” the woman laughs, a musical sound like raindrops falling on reeds of bamboo. She stands. “You can just call me Sif, okay? That’s my special name.” A wink.
Evy nods, pigtails waggling. “Your dress is very pretty, Sif!” A black ribbon falls loose from her hair, and I swoop in to fix it.
“Thank you! It’s called a tutu. You see, I’m not simply the ringmaster for this little troupe…” Persephone takes one long, graceful step backwards. With arms lifted heavenward, she twirls slowly in place, supported by nothing but the tips of her toes. Then, as though lifted by invisible hands, she leaps forward to land in front of us with a delicate curtsy. “I’m a ballerina as well.”
I press a hand to my own back, wincing at the mere thought of performing such a maneuver. Evelyn claps with delight.
“Do you know why your mommy is here, Evelyn?” Persephone’s eyes dart to mine, and I notice how extraordinarily black they are. Slick pools of oil, shimmering beneath the flickering lights, ready to catch flame in an instant. There’s something familiar about those eyes, but I can’t quite place what it is.
“Yup! Mommy is here so you can give her a job.” She beams, proud. I squeeze her shoulder. “Then we don’t have to sleep in the stuffy old car and I can go school again and make lots and lots of friends!”
“Evy, honey, why don’t you ask Persephone about the clowns?” I swallow, heart beating in the back of my throat. Of course, I can’t miss the pitying look Persephone sends my way, but I’d have known it was there all the same. My cheeks burn, and I’m grateful for the poor lighting.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any clowns, Evelyn.” Persephone wears an exaggerated frown, hands on her hips. “We’re new in town, so we haven’t found any clowns for our show yet. I know! How about you be our first?”
Evelyn giggles, and I’m thankful for the change in conversation. She shakes her head, and I keep a wary eye on the mischievous ribbon. “No way, I’m just a kid!”
Persephone makes a show of scuffing her feet, though the toe of her gleaming white slipper never touches the ground. “Well, shucks. I guess we’ll just have to keep looking, huh? In the meantime, do you mind if I have a chat with your mom? I suspect she may have brought our circus a very special gift. What do you think, Evy?”
Evelyn nods, wrapping her little arms around my leg, face pressed against my thigh. She’s quiet now, and I embrace both her and this brief reprieve from the prickly heat of shame. What must Ms. Persephone think? Who brings their child to a job interview?
A single mom with no goddamn money, that’s who. What kind of psychic couldn’t see that coming?
We follow Persephone to a small black tent tucked away to one side of the expanse. She holds a flap open, and we duck inside. The space is much cozier than I expected, lit by a single incandescent bulb suspended from the centre of the tent. It casts a dull hazy, dream-like glow over the sparse furnishings.
I take the opportunity to try and read her, to get a sense of her intentions and what might possibly be in store for us, but there’s nothing. No vision, no cryptic signs. Not even static. Just a cold, empty darkness.
Weird…
Persephone gestures to a puffy brown couch near the back, with a glossy coffee table and plush leather armchair facing it. I sit, lifting Evy up onto the cushion beside me, where she sits politely with legs crossed and hands folded neatly on her lap. Just like I taught her.
Good girl. Just give me one hour, and you can have all the cotton candy you like.
Persephone stands behind the chair, smiling warmly at us. Outside, the sound of hooves pounding against hard dirt winds its way into the tent, riding along on an eerie wave of music. It’s a sad but frantic melody, like a music-box eking out the last few notes before its coiled energy is expended and gone. A carousel perhaps? Evy would love that. All the pretty horses, spinning round and round, up and down.
Just as it was in my vision. Riders carried astride fantastic beasts, locked in their dizzying whirlwind. Ever forward, going nowhere. Forever…
“The circus is like a family.” Persephone’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “We see each other day in and day out. We eat together, laugh together. Live together.”
I nod, having long considered the implications of joining a traveling circus over many sleepless nights. This is the bottom of the barrel, the lowest of the low. Surely, it was every parent’s worst nightmare, their child running off to join the circus. And here I am, dragging my own daughter along with me…
It wouldn’t be a permanent thing. No, just long enough to get back on my feet.
We do what we gotta do, Cat. It’s all for Evy, now.
Well, Eddie’s not here, the fucking coward. Easy enough for him to say.
Persephone must have sensed my distraction; she waited patiently for a response.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Family is very important to me as well. To us. Isn’t that right, Evy?”
Evelyn nods, no smile. Her eyes are lost in that far-off place she sometimes goes to. Perhaps she’s thinking of her father as well.
“I can see that.” Persephone nods to herself, then clasps her hands together. “I’d like you to meet some of my family. Three people who are very dear to me. In fact, I value their opinions above all else, and it will ultimately be they who help me determine whether or not you’ll be a good fit for our family. I think…”
Her voice trails off, and my heart pounds in my ears. The sound of hoof-beats returns and an electric shiver races up my back.
Persephone’s smile makes a cryptic reappearance. “I think you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
She winks at Evelyn before performing a graceful pirouette and exiting the tent, her cape waving behind her.
A tiny hand falls on my knee. I steady my leg, not realizing it had been bobbing up and down like a sledgehammer. I place my hand on hers and draw from her strength.
“You’ll do great, Mommy.” She stares at the tent flap, curiosity and excitement sparkling in her eyes.
“Thanks, honey.” I hope so.
For a moment, the tent is silent. The single lightbulb fails to illuminate its great heights, stretching far off into the darkness of space where tiny little specks of light twinkle like stars. One of them shoots across the blackness, and —
“Beautiful, yes?”
My breath catches. There’s a young man seated in front of us, perched rigidly on the leather chair. His manner of dress is no less extravagant than that of Ms. Persephone, clad in an impeccable suit and tie, with a top-hat set neatly upon his knee. All of it white. So radiant are his garments, they actually glow, a nauseating colourless luminescence, one that far outshines the light above us.
Evelyn giggles. “Neat trick!”
His eyes, two drops of sparkling peridot, meet hers with a smile. “Oh, you like magic, little girl?”
She claps, nodding her head excitedly.
“Her name’s Evelyn,” I tell him, offering a smile of my own. “I’m Catherine.” I lean forward and extend my hand across the table.
“I’m aware.” He ignores my hand, eyes locked on Evelyn’s for a moment longer, the unnatural green of his eyes twisting, and flaring. Another illusion, no doubt. Nonetheless, the sickly green light tugs at my insides and I sit back, clutching my stomach.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Evy tugs on my sleeve, pigtails bouncing. “He’s a magician!”
I nod, biting through the nausea.
The feverish light subsides, and he faces me. I breathe, deep and slow, forcing the dizziness down.
“So.” He strokes his long chin, appraising me. His gaunt skin is pulled taut, the shadows deepening the hollows of his haggard face, no longer masked by his trick. There’s a slick sheen on his forehead. “The psychic? Let’s get to it, then, shall we? Oh, I do so hope you’ve brought what we’re looking for. ” He coughs, wet and forceful, then leans forward. His green eyes peer into mine and my stomach wants to escape my body. For a moment, even his youth seems but a trick of the eye. “Tell me, seer, what of my fortune?”
Focus, Catherine. You’ve harnessed the gift in far more trying circumstances than this.
Evelyn’s expectant gaze lifts up to mine.
Focus.
I close my eyes.
At first, it’s dark. It always starts this way. Then slowly, the shadows pull themselves free. They slide away, then coalesce. Stretch, pull. Chaos becomes shapes, and soon an image is formed.
“I see… I see a horse.”
“A horse?” I can feel Evy shift on the couch beside me. She loves horses, always dreamed of riding one. Eddie promised to take her, one day.
Another lie.
Please stop crying, Cat. I love you. I would never leave you.
Never.
“Yes. Please don’t interrupt Mommy.” I place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She’s in a forest, galloping at full stride. The trees are bare, their branches twisted and ugly. Black rot grows, festering where healthy leaves should be. The taint grows heavy, drips and… falls on her. Her pristine golden mane is touched by the blackness, and it spreads like vines, snaking over her body, constricting and choking. She’s scared.”
I pause. The images are so vivid, so… terrible. I need a moment to make sense of them, but they continue, relentless.
“The horse is thrashing, rearing up and screaming. Screaming in agony, in madness, in a way no horse is capable. The blackness has taken her now, corrupted her. Her eyes… her beautiful, golden eyes are shattered. Milky orbs whirl about, frantic, desperate. She collapses. Nothing. A pile of rot.”
My body shudders, and the images dissipate like the thick fog that had clouded that poor creature. Her suffering… I could feel it.
I open my eyes, wet. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what it means. My visions aren’t usually, so…” I search for the word, finding it in a painfully familiar place. “Abstract.”
Tell me about Evy’s future, Cat. I need to know.
I swallow the memory with the bile that edges my throat.
“Nonsense, Catherine.” The man dismisses my apology with a wave of his hand, then begins another terrible coughing fit. After an uncomfortable eternity, he’s finished, and I notice a smattering of black on his pristine gloves. Blood? No, definitely black. “You’ve been most helpful.”
I smile, but it’s forced. If the rest of the interview goes this way, I’ll never get the job. They’ll think I’m just another hack, a fraud. Perhaps if they knew how much I needed this…
“Why don’t we end this little session with one more trick?” The magician is smiling, the glow to his eyes returning and a knowing grin lighting up his face . He snaps his fingers, and the room is filled with a brilliant flash of emerald light, the smell of sulfur playing at the tip of my nose.
And then he’s gone.
Evelyn claps, squealing with delight. “Look, Mommy!” She holds up a single long-stemmed rose, petals black. “Isn’t it pretty?”
I nod, smiling. Nice trick.
Peculiar people, but what did I expect from the circus? At least they seem to like Evy well enough. I can’t shake this feeling, though. This strange unease. Eddie would say to trust my gut, that I was psychic, after all.
But if my psychic powers were truly that impressive, then they would have seen what he was going to do. I could have stopped him. I could have saved him.
I should have…
Read Part II >>
