Fieldtrip | Valentina Cano
The ticket booth was the color of egg yolks, and just as glossy.
Marianne slid a ten dollar bill through the slit and smiled at the woman behind the fingerprint-smudged glass. “One ticket, please,” she said.
The woman, who had bubblegum-pink lipstick drying in flakes on her lips, took the money and handed her a small piece of thin cardboard with a large number “1” printed on one side.
Through there,” the woman said and pointed to a large gate lit up with the kinds of white lights Marianne always wished she could drape around her Christmas tree instead of the candy-colored ones her family always chose.
The gate was closed, but there was a young woman on the other side, ready to fling it open. Marianne handed her the ticket and waited for the woman, not much older than a teen, to let her in.
“Enjoy,” she said.
As soon as she took a step into the carnival grounds, all the noises she expected surrounded her in a thick embrace. The frantic ping of numerous strength games; the hollow thunks of wooden bowling pins falling under a pebble-wielder’s expert shot; the music-box song of the merry-go-round that she couldn’t yet see. And the laughter. So much laughter. Children’s and adults’ alike.
Marianne smiled, feeling the anxiety that had lodged like a fist in her chest relax. It surprised her, how much she was already enjoying herself.
She started walking down the worn dirt path, her face a rainbow of reflected lights and colors, her ears flooded with sound. She had a sudden thought. Cotton candy. That was what she needed to feel even better.
Her head turned to the left. Right next to her, she saw a small cart selling popcorn and cotton candy. How had she not smelled it sooner?
“Hello, dear,” the woman behind the cart said. Peculiar, Marianne thought, how the employees seemed to be only female. She was turning to look around her when the woman spoke again.
“Here you go.” She extended a puff of light pink cotton candy towards Marianne.
“How did you know?”
The woman just smiled and stretched out her sticky hand. “Two dollars.”
Marianne handed her the cash and took a large bite of the cotton candy. She’d never tasted something quite so “right”. She couldn’t imagine ever eating anything else.
“What do you mean, you lost her?” The woman’s scream carried all the way down the hall. “How can that happen?”
The man made a steeple of his hands. “Don’t worry. We will find her. She can’t have gone far.”
“I just don’t understand how something like this−” She choked on her own words.
“The window was unlocked, unfortunately, and she slipped out.”
“She didn’t slip out; she climbed out and down, somehow. God, I can’t believe this.” The woman covered her eyes with her hands and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“We’ll find her.”
Marianne licked her fingers but they stayed sticky. She should find a water fountain and wash her hands, but it was hard to see with so many people bumping into her. It was strange, though. All of them were female. She looked and looked and didn’t see a single man or boy anywhere.
“Maybe there was a special or something,” she murmured as a little girl, someone who looked vaguely familiar almost stepped on her foot.
She continued walking down the main path. The cotton candy sat heavy in her stomach, and the excitement she’d first felt when buying the ticket was gone, replaced by a thirst that coated her throat and mouth.
She walked to one of the many food stalls.
“Water, please.”
“Nope. Sorry. We don’t serve it.”
“Okay. Anything you’ve got to drink, then.”
“We don’t serve any drinks.”
Marianne frowned and walked away.
She asked at every stall she could see but no one had anything to drink. Nothing at all.
The thirst was growing, becoming something impossible to ignore. And the women seemed to be bumping into her more and more, hitting her with more force than before.
Panic grew like a seed in her head. Where was she?
The call came from the old security guard, directing them to the old carnival grounds.
The woman rushed out of the barely parked car and ran past the old, cracked ticket-booth that had once been yellow. She kicked the rusted gates open.
That was when she saw Marianne.
Her mother was walking in tight circles, moaning. Her mouth was covered in a black, viscous matter that the woman hoped was just mud, and her hospital tunic was torn in countless places, as if someone had clawed at it.
“Mom?” The woman said.
There was a crunch as the doctor stepped next to her.
“She can’t see you.”
“Is it one of her episodes?”
“Yes.” The doctor waved at the orderlies. “We’re going to need to sedate her.”
The woman closed her eyes and nodded.
Marianne saw the men coming towards her, pushing through the crowd of women, women who looked just a little bit like she used to.
“Marianne,” they said, making her gasp.
How did they know her name? Why were they coming so close to her?
She took a step backwards and they lunged at her, grabbing her arms and legs.
“Stop it! Stop it!” She screamed. Something sharp pierced her left arm and fire seemed to travel up her veins.
The last thing she saw before darkness descended was the crowd. All the women and girls turning towards her, their mouths open in silent screams.
The ticket booth was the color of egg yolks, and just as glossy.
Marianne slid a ten dollar bill through the slit and smiled at the woman behind the fingerprint-smudged glass. “One ticket, please,” she said.
The woman, who had bubblegum-pink lipstick drying in flakes on her lips, took the money and handed her a small piece of thin cardboard with a large number “1” printed on one side.
Through there,” the woman said and pointed to a large gate lit up with the kinds of white lights Marianne always wished she could drape around her Christmas tree instead of the candy-colored ones her family always chose.
The gate was closed, but there was a young woman on the other side, ready to fling it open. Marianne handed her the ticket and waited for the woman, not much older than a teen, to let her in.
“Enjoy,” she said.
As soon as she took a step into the carnival grounds, all the noises she expected surrounded her in a thick embrace. The frantic ping of numerous strength games; the hollow thunks of wooden bowling pins falling under a pebble-wielder’s expert shot; the music-box song of the merry-go-round that she couldn’t yet see. And the laughter. So much laughter. Children’s and adults’ alike.
Marianne smiled, feeling the anxiety that had lodged like a fist in her chest relax. It surprised her, how much she was already enjoying herself.
She started walking down the worn dirt path, her face a rainbow of reflected lights and colors, her ears flooded with sound. She had a sudden thought. Cotton candy. That was what she needed to feel even better.
Her head turned to the left. Right next to her, she saw a small cart selling popcorn and cotton candy. How had she not smelled it sooner?
“Hello, dear,” the woman behind the cart said. Peculiar, Marianne thought, how the employees seemed to be only female. She was turning to look around her when the woman spoke again.
“Here you go.” She extended a puff of light pink cotton candy towards Marianne.
“How did you know?”
The woman just smiled and stretched out her sticky hand. “Two dollars.”
Marianne handed her the cash and took a large bite of the cotton candy. She’d never tasted something quite so “right”. She couldn’t imagine ever eating anything else.
“What do you mean, you lost her?” The woman’s scream carried all the way down the hall. “How can that happen?”
The man made a steeple of his hands. “Don’t worry. We will find her. She can’t have gone far.”
“I just don’t understand how something like this−” She choked on her own words.
“The window was unlocked, unfortunately, and she slipped out.”
“She didn’t slip out; she climbed out and down, somehow. God, I can’t believe this.” The woman covered her eyes with her hands and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“We’ll find her.”
Marianne licked her fingers but they stayed sticky. She should find a water fountain and wash her hands, but it was hard to see with so many people bumping into her. It was strange, though. All of them were female. She looked and looked and didn’t see a single man or boy anywhere.
“Maybe there was a special or something,” she murmured as a little girl, someone who looked vaguely familiar almost stepped on her foot.
She continued walking down the main path. The cotton candy sat heavy in her stomach, and the excitement she’d first felt when buying the ticket was gone, replaced by a thirst that coated her throat and mouth.
She walked to one of the many food stalls.
“Water, please.”
“Nope. Sorry. We don’t serve it.”
“Okay. Anything you’ve got to drink, then.”
“We don’t serve any drinks.”
Marianne frowned and walked away.
She asked at every stall she could see but no one had anything to drink. Nothing at all.
The thirst was growing, becoming something impossible to ignore. And the women seemed to be bumping into her more and more, hitting her with more force than before.
Panic grew like a seed in her head. Where was she?
The call came from the old security guard, directing them to the old carnival grounds.
The woman rushed out of the barely parked car and ran past the old, cracked ticket-booth that had once been yellow. She kicked the rusted gates open.
That was when she saw Marianne.
Her mother was walking in tight circles, moaning. Her mouth was covered in a black, viscous matter that the woman hoped was just mud, and her hospital tunic was torn in countless places, as if someone had clawed at it.
“Mom?” The woman said.
There was a crunch as the doctor stepped next to her.
“She can’t see you.”
“Is it one of her episodes?”
“Yes.” The doctor waved at the orderlies. “We’re going to need to sedate her.”
The woman closed her eyes and nodded.
Marianne saw the men coming towards her, pushing through the crowd of women, women who looked just a little bit like she used to.
“Marianne,” they said, making her gasp.
How did they know her name? Why were they coming so close to her?
She took a step backwards and they lunged at her, grabbing her arms and legs.
“Stop it! Stop it!” She screamed. Something sharp pierced her left arm and fire seemed to travel up her veins.
The last thing she saw before darkness descended was the crowd. All the women and girls turning towards her, their mouths open in silent screams.