Wealdenmynd Chapter 3 The Carnival

The only thing standing between our girls and the rest of their lives in the carnival, and they want to enjoy it!

- Chapter Three -

 

The Carnival

 

Out across the horizon, the warm aging sun hung low across a line of trees on the distant hill. The last rays of light scratched at the field behind Searah's parents house. The field itself, painted pink by the sunlight, had been ploughed only the day before and the smell and dust from the crops still lingered. Rabbits scampered through it on their way back to their burrows, over the rows of hills and valleys in miniature that had been left in the wake of the farmer’s machines. To the right stood more fields, with farm hands going about their business, taking what they needed from one field and sowing new crops in others, continuing the year round rituals that helped keep the town from hunger. To the left, some distance away, stood the farmhouse. Smoke could be seen drifting out from the chimney and away across the heavens, up to mingle with the gentle puffs of cloud that dotted the evening summer sky.

            Searah looked out of her bedroom window at the painted pink fields and the farmhouse, her eyes squinting against the beams of sunlight. Her mother sidled out of the kitchen and across the decking at the back of the house, carrying with her a basket full of Searah’s now spotlessly clean clothes. She busied herself hanging them up on the line that was spun between the apple tree, now in full production, which was to be the source of that nights pudding, and the metal pole half way down her fathers immaculately mowed lawn. Tibby the cat was stood on the tree stump at the end of the garden, cleaning herself in preparation for the inevitable sleep that would follow. Searah had been in the garden with her father when the tree was cut down some ten years before. She had seen him sweat, curse, and heave until the old, rotten trunk snapped, crushing the wooden fencing behind and almost landing on two of her mother’s spirits. She had loved that tree when she was young. She would spend hours upon hours running around its trunk, climbing the lower branches or else swinging on the rope swing her father, Eevan Ren had made for her, looking out on the very same, unchanging scene over which she now reminisced. She had made the best of it, however. She’d spent hours one Sunday afternoon, carving out what remained of the tree stump with her fathers tools. Her spirits had helped to guide her by flowing over the lines in the wood, showing her were to cut, shave and sand. By the end of the evening, it was finished, and in the place of a tree stump stood a bench, big enough for her father to sit on to read the paper.

 

‘Ok,’ Searah thought, ‘it was about as comfortable as the old tree stump had been, but at least it had a purpose.’

 

She had named it Peach-glade Corner, for reasons that escaped her even a few weeks afterwards, but the name stuck. It had been the start of her corner of the garden, which, by the end of the second year had, with her mothers help, flowerbeds and vegetable patches.

 

‘I enjoyed making that.’ Searah spoke to the spirit playing with her hair. ‘I remember being so proud of it.’ another of her spirits drifted out of the open window as if guided by a gentle breeze. Searah watched it waft its way across the garden towards her father who was sat on the bench reading the news, as he always did on a day like this after coming home from work. It flew right up to Eeven’s head before being swatted away by the turning of a page.

 

‘Nice to be appreciated.’ she said with a grin. Her father looked up at her window and rolled his eyes in exactly the same way she had done to Reacca a couple of days before.

 

‘What are you doing up there? Stuck in your dark and dusty room on a day like this.’ he called up, waving a hand towards the beautiful skyline.

 

‘It’s not dusty!’ Searah called back.

 

‘What did you say?’ he asked, cupping a hand round his ear.

 

‘I said,’ she said a little louder ‘It’s not dusty.’

 

‘I’m surprised you can tell,’ said her mother, turning away from the washing line to look at her, ‘what with all the clothes and dirty plates cluttered everywhere.’

 

Searah wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at her mother before she turned away from the window and looked across her room. The only bit of the floor she could see was the space the door had made when she’d opened it. Dirty plates and mugs, along with random volumes of encyclopaedias, half-written in notebooks and a few potted plants were scattered over her desk, leaving no room to put anything else down. The plants had had their flowers pulled off and the ends of the leaves chewed by Tibby the cat. Her bed, covered in purple sheets, was unmade and the giant red cushion she slept on still had a head shaped dent carved into it.

 

A spirit drifted in through the same open window and dropped a small scrap of paper, no more than the corner of a larger sheet, onto her lap. It lifted itself across the piles of dirty washing and three-day-old plates to play with Searah's spirits, dancing in the spots of orange sunlight dappling the far wall. She knew at once who the note must be from; she knew of no one other than Kaytee whose spirits went so far from their charge. She still found it slightly unnerving, even after the years she had seen them do it, to find herself in the presence of a spirit which was not hers. Sometimes Kaytee's guardian would stay with her, playing with her own until she and Kaytee met up, or sometimes it would drift back out of the window almost immediately. Searah looked down at the little note, now clutched in her hand.

 

‘So, did you burn them yet?’ it said in Kaytee's scruffy handwriting. Searah laughed and looked across the room at the pile of papers that had, until two days ago, been littered on top of everything else. They were her school notes and she would probably never need them again. Yet something had stopped her from getting rid of them, as her, Kaytee and Reacca had planned. She didn’t know what was going to happen, now that they had finished school and she didn’t want to let them go so quickly. She supposed she would have to find a job, probably somewhere on the other side of town, or maybe somewhere else altogether.

 

Her parents where in the kitchen making dinner by the time she made it down stairs.

 

‘Did you bring your mugs down?’ her mother asked, not looking up from the mixing bowl that was full of something that smelt like herbs but looked like mud.

 

‘Sorry,’ Searah muttered taking her seat at the long wooden kitchen table, ‘I forgot.’

 

‘You’d forget your ears if they weren’t screwed onto the side of your head.’

 

Her mother, Cara Ren, had maintained for as long as Searah could remember that it was her job to do the kitchen, just as it was her fathers’ job to cut the grass and look after the garden and the upkeep of the building. Her father maintained that if the cooking was her job then she should have been sacked years ago. Looking at the muddy goop Cara was spooning into a tray now, Searah couldn’t help but agree. Her mother owned and ran a small stall in the more respectable side of the town market, trading in second hand books. She would sell most of them on for a modest sum but occasionally would keep hold of a rare or expensive one and sell it at a much higher rate to big collectors across the Territory. Her father worked in the village bank. He would be up and out of the house before Searah was up in the morning and didn’t usually get back until very late evening. He worked in the office that dealt with currency, exchanging and re-exchanging currencies from all over the Territories for large and small clients alike. It sounded like the most boring job in the world, as far as Searah could see, and she had a feeling that her father agreed as he rarely spoke of his work and was rarely happy whenever Searah had gone in to see him in the office.

 

As the evening wore on, the excitement grew in the Ren house as all three people and their spirits prepared for the night’s carnival activities. Searah had always loved going to the Carnival but this year she was looking forward to it more than usual. This was more than a fun evening; it was a celebration of finishing her school career.

 

*

 

The daylight was fading, leaving a rich red, orange over the houses of Dounaton. The usually peaceful town could now feel the rhythmic thump thump and see the garish lights coming from the carnival. A trickle of people could be seen flowing its way from every street, alley and workplace as mums and dads, children and teenagers, workers and managers walked like hypnotised ants towards the Green in the centre of town.

 

The carnival itself, run by a large family of travellers, spread across the whole Green, filling it with stalls, entertainers, tents full of mystics and psychics or else occupied by strange animals or weirdly shaped men. Large rides and machines filled the far side of the field and it was from these that most of the noise and light was coming. Some of the rides were gentle, aimed at the younger children or at young couples, giving them a quite and secluded place to hide from their parents. Some rides span their patrons round at great speeds or threw you high in the air on giant stretchable ropes. Some of the rides seemed to have the sole intention of making its riders ill and most usually succeeded at some point during the night as the children went home and those that stayed into the early hours steadily ate and drank more and more.

 

In the centre, towering over everything else and to which all the loosely defined alleys of stalls wound, stood a giant stadium, large enough to seat everyone in the town. At its centre was a round open space covered in sawdust and straw and round the edge stood rows of wooden staffs. There were four ways into this central area spaced evenly round the circle, each carving a gap between the seating, dissecting them into for even quarters. A few entertainers on single wheeled bicycles or juggling flaming torches were pacifying the slowly gathering crowd whilst a skinny man in a large top hat stood in one of the entrance corridors talking to a small group of people.

 

Searah found Reacca standing moodily near the entrance, her spirits looking bored, drifting around her waist. Only one spirit seemed excited and kept flicking in the direction of the stadium before drawing back. Searah, dressed in her favourite fabric trousers and warm blue jumper smirked at the site of Reacca, slumped against a fence post in a sparkly white top. Her hair had been perfectly straightened and her trousers were immaculately neat. She marvelled at the fact that Reacca took such care in her appearance even for something as down-to-earth as the carnival.

 

‘You look good.’ She said, brushing some non-existent dust from Reacca’s shoulder.

 

‘Thank you, so do you.’ Reacca replied in a bored tone without looking at her.

 

‘Thanks, I try. Hope you haven’t been here long.’

 

‘About an hour. Kaytee was here for a while but she, errm…bounced off somewhere.’

 

‘Ah, bad party was it?’

 

‘I couldn’t say but I’d guess so. All I could get from her was something about being paraded like an animal and something about a big surprise.’

 

‘A surprise for us or for her?’ Searah asked.

 

‘I couldn’t tell.’ Replied Reacca, pulling herself from the post with a sigh.  ‘All she would say was “it doesn’t matter for the moment” and that she’ll tell us later.’ She put her arm around Searah’s and pulled her off towards the stalls, stamping her feet, seemingly trying to get some heat into them. Searah thought she might have more luck if she wore shoes that were more shoe and less strap.

 

‘You should have seen what she was wearing.’ Reacca said, pulling air in through her teeth.

 

‘Revealing?’

 

‘No, no. That would have been preferable I think. Again, all she’d say was something about making a statement, something about being herself.’

 

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Searah stepping over a discarded food wrapper, ‘I wonder what she’s got up her sleeve.’

 

‘Who knows? Terrorise a palm reader with questions, challenge the traveller kids to a wrestling match or something.’

 

‘Oh I’ve got something much better in mind!’ Came a voice from behind them a second before Searah felt her other arm being taken and pulled towards a stall at which an old card shark sat. ‘I’ll have a go my good man.’ Kaytee said brightly.

 

‘One silver piece me love. Two cards, closest to 21 wins.’

 

‘What have you done?’ Searah asked, pulling her arm away and standing back to get the full picture of what Kaytee was wearing. A mixture of green and purple fabrics were stroon over almost every inch of her body leaving only her hands and head uncovered. She looked like she’d had a fight in a fabric factory and had pinned her materialed enemies to wherever they had ended up. The stall owner turned over his cards.

 

‘Ooh, 18! Nicey nicey. And what do you hold in your pretty little hands?’

 

Kaytee turned over one card with 10 black stars on and other with a picture of a prince.

 

‘Oh, bad luck my man, ‘she cooed, ‘I win! What will it be Searah?’ Kaytee asked, waving her hand in the direction of the rows of stuffed animals hanging up behind the old mans head. The old man curled his lips in disappointment.

 

‘Errm, that one.’ Said Searah, pointing at a stuffed horse with a long golden mane.

 

‘That one sir, the woman has spoken.’ The man passed the horse over grudgingly and before he had a change to speak again, Kaytee had pulled them off among the other stalls.

 

‘What have you done?’ echoed Reacca.

 

‘Something we will remember and be able to laugh about for years to come.’

 

‘Look,’ said Reacca, putting a hand on Kaytee's chest and stepping in front of her, ‘remember this is your issue, this whole making your own mark, individual thing.’

 

‘I know that, but…’

 

‘So,’ Reacca interrupted, ‘if you’ve got us into something stupid,’ she gave Kaytee a piercing look, ‘I’ll not be happy.’ Kaytee had to force down a laugh.

 

‘Ok, I’ll remember that. But trust me, this will be fun! Come on.’

 

The three of them made their way through the stalls, stopping here and there to have their palms read, or else to win a prize. Slowly the crowd around them started to thin as everyone in the town made their way towards the stadium at the centre.

 

‘Shouldn’t we go and find some seats?’ Searah asked as the sounds of oohs and arrhs came from the stadium. ‘It sounds like it’s all started and we don’t want to miss too much.’

 

‘Don’t worry; we’ll not miss too much.’ Said Kaytee, handing over a silver piece to the stall holder. Reacca gave her another cold look. ‘Oh, ok, come on then, lets go and get the best view in the house.’

 

They made their way through the stalls towards the stadium, joining the last few stragglers heading for the one of the large entrances. Before they got there however, Kaytee pulled them off to the side and started to walk around the outside of the stadium, drawing her hand along its light brown fabric walls.

 

‘Where are we going?’ asked Searah.

 

‘You’ll see, keep up.’

 

‘Why won’t she tell us what she’s got us in for?’ Reacca asked Searah, pulling her back a bit so not to be over heard.

 

‘Probably knows that we’ll not go through with it if we knew what it was.’ Ahead of them, Kaytee disappeared through a small door into the stadium, popping her head back through to beckon them forward.

 

Once inside Searah saw a well-decorated room, the walls of which were covered in a deep rich red weave. Comfortable chairs sat around the edges of the room with little tables dotted around them. In the middle of the room was a large, thickly woven rug depicting birds in flight and horned horses charging across hills. On each of the little tables stood decanters of wine and empty glasses, which, by the look of them, would cost a small fortune to replace.

 

‘And what are we doing here?’ asked Reacca with a touch of resignation in her voice. ‘I thought you were trying to get away from this sort of high class stuffery.’

 

‘I am, I was told to wait here.’

 

‘Told?’ Searah asked, taking her eyes from the scene on the rug and looking inquisitively at Kaytee. ‘Told by whom?’

 

‘By me, sweets,’ said a voice from the doorway opposite the one through which they had entered, ‘and had I known what I was getting I might not have spent the breath on it.’ through the door walked a tall, skinny man in a long black coat and red shirt. In his hand he was holding a tall top hat and in the other what looked like a leather whip. His hair was long and greasy and his long nose seemed to be dripping sweat. ‘Still,’ he said after a pause, ‘could be good for a laugh I suppose, good thing your on in the middle of the bill, no one will remember you.’

 

‘We’ll be good, I promise.’ Said Kaytee, taking a step towards him and offering out a hand to shake. He ignored it and walked passed her, picked up a book that had been hidden behind a chair and ticked something off from one of the middle pages.

 

‘Well, you better be, your on next which means I’ve no time to find anyone else. When you hear a bell ring, walk through to that break in the wall fabric over there and come out running.’ With that, before any of them could ask any questions, he walked out through the gap in the wall he had pointed out and left.

 

‘Who was that?’ said Searah, rounding on Kaytee, her spirits moving forward to surround Kaytee's head.’

 

‘What does it matter!’ exclaimed Reacca, her spirits doing the same. ‘On next? On for what?’

 

‘Ok, well, like he said its too late to pull out now, and anyway it will be fun, these things are always fixed anyway.’

 

‘What things?’ asked Searah and Reacca in unison.

 

‘Well,’ squirmed Kaytee, stepping backwards away from the looks she was being given, ‘like you said, I wanted to do something…different so I… I entered us into the show.’

 

‘That much I’d got,’ said Reacca, poking Kaytee hard in the chest, ‘which bit of the show?’

 

‘Dagladitorite.’ Mumbled Kaytee.

 

‘The what?’

 

‘The Gladiator fight ok, there’s this gladiator they have that fights local people for a prize. Its usually only one person whose allowed to fight but he bent the rules because…because..’

 

‘We’re young girls?!’ said Searah, kicking at the nearest chair.

 

‘Well, yes.’ Kaytee said in a very small voice.

 

‘Perfect,’ Searah said with venom, ‘I’ve always wanted to get beaten up by an eight foot muscle in front of the whole town.’

 

‘Don’t be silly,’ Kaytee implored, ‘you’ll not get beaten up, like I said these things are always fixed.’

 

‘He actually said that did he?’ asked Reacca and her voice was surprisingly calm. ‘That man in the top hat?’

 

‘Well, no, not so much, and yes ok so he made me sign something that said it wasn’t his fault if we get hurt but they always make you do that, don’t they?’

 

‘Oh yes,’ Searah said in a sarcastic tone, slumping down into the chair she’d kicked, ‘every time I’ve been in a gladiator match they made me sign something. What were you thinking?!’

 

‘She wasn’t.’ replied Reacca, moving to sit on the arm of Searahs chair. Kaytee looked from one to the other and from the look on her face Searah could tell this was not how she had expected this conversation to go.

 

‘You’ll… you’ll not make me go out there alone will you?’ said Kaytee in her small voice. The voice of the man in the top hat came wafting in through the gap in the wall.

 

‘Ladies and gentlemen, children and grandparents, lovers and mortal enemies please welcome to the arena a man who has never been beaten in over two hundred matches, the man simply known as… THE GLADIATOR!!!’ the crowd cried its approval to what ever sight had just entered the space beyond the wall. ‘And, from your very own town, in what could very possibly be the last thing they ever do, his opponents!!!’ a bell rang somewhere outside and as if in rhythm to the crowds calls and shouts, a drum roll started up.

 

‘Oh by the gods,’ called Searah over the din that had erupted in their honour, ‘if I die then you are going to owe me big time girl, remember that.’ She stood up and, after a pause to gather their breath, the three girls walked through the hole in the wall and ran down the corridor of wooden supports and out into the brightly lit arena beyond.

 

The bright lights beaming down from the tops of the stadium were so bright they blinded the three girls so that only the light of their own spirits were visible, hovering in front of them like a protective barrier. The light and the cheers coming from all around them washed over every one of their senses leaving them blind and blinking into the cool night air. It took what seemed like an eternity for their eyes to adjust to this new world and when they did, they didn’t like what they could see. The sunken stage was vast; maybe twice the size of a normal sports field and every inch was covered in sawdust, straw and sand, blanketing the land in a pail cream so that everything on it would stand out. The arena they had walked into on the other hand was fairly small, maybe the same size as Searah’s garden. It was cordoned off with heavy planks of wood on three sides, the forth being the stadium wall they had just passed through. As Searah blinked around she saw that a grate was being lowered into place over the opening she had just run through.

 

Reacca and Kaytee on the other hand were looking into the corner of the arena at the man they were about to face. He stood a head and shoulder above them and was as wide as they were put together. He wore only leather straps and a pair of leather shorts. His chest and face were covered in deep scars that they guessed came from to many narrow escapes. He had a shaved head and a look of disgust in his eyes as he surveyed his newest opponents.

 

‘The game is simple.’ The voice of the top hap man came across the crowd once more. ‘The first to hold down their attacker for a 10 count, or the first to knock out their foe wins. The prize for one, 500 gold coins, the prize for the other, his pride and reputation.’ There came another cheer from all around them. ‘Seeing as there are three people fighting together for tonight’s entertainment only one will need to be held or knocked out for the fight to be over.’

 

Searah wondered if her parents were in the crowd and if they had realised it was their daughter who was about to loose a limb. She looked across at her friends, all anger at Kaytee gone in the fright of seeing the man she had to face.

 

‘What do you think, can we take him?’

 

‘Sure, no problem.’ Said Kaytee, but the shake in her voice betrayed her confidant words.

 

‘What's the plan?’ asked Reacca.

 

‘I don’t know, hadn’t thought that far.’ Kaytee replied. ‘we could run for it, see how long it takes for him to run himself out chasing us.’

 

‘No, I think we should stick together,’ suggested Reacca, taking off her shoes and throwing them against the wall, ‘use our combined strength and weight.’

 

‘I like it, throw ourselves at him.’ Kaytee agreed.

 

‘No,’ interjected Searah, ‘we need to stay apart. Even together we’re not as strong or as heavy I’d guess. We need to stay apart, if he pins us all down we’re done. Kaytee, when it starts go left, Reacca, go right, I’ll stay in the middle. What ever happens don’t let him corner us all.’ Reacca and Kaytee stared at her worriedly.

 

‘Sounds risky, we’d all be vulnerable, are you sure?’ asked Kaytee.

 

‘I’m sure, it’s your turn to trust me.’ The three friends looked at each other, and Kaytee nodded.

 

‘Ok, wait for my signal, then split, if one of us is in trouble, another can run in. Don’t have all three of us attacking at the same time or he’ll be able to get us all.’

 

‘Ladies and gentlemen let the game begin!’

 

The bell that had rung them into the arena sounded again and the crowd cheered. Searah could hear the sound of her heart beating in her ears. She could feel her two friends either side of her. Their spirits combined to form a single mass between them and the mass of flesh that was eying them up. For a second, nobody moved. They looked out at him, he looked at them. A beating rhythm had started up from the crowd.

 

Suddenly he threw himself across the ground towards them. He was so fast Searah barely had time to react.

 

‘GO!’ she called. She felt her friends shoot left and right leaving her directly in the firing line. A split second before the mass of his body would have crashed into her she smashed her shoulder down into the ground. He had been expecting her to stand her ground and had jumped at her, aiming at her neck. Instead he went flying over the top of her and crashed head first into the grate.

 

Pulling herself to her feet, Searah ran towards him, slipping on the dust on the ground. She jumped on him, her knees landing heavily into the small of his back. There was nothing to hold onto and as he gave a giant roar of pain he threw himself up onto his own knees, sending Searah flying backwards. Her head crashed into the ground and sparks exploded in front of her eyes and by the time she had shaken them off she saw him running at her once more. He was only a second away from her, hands out stretched like rocks thrown from a trebuchet, heading right for her face. Inches from her nose he suddenly lurched to the left and crashed to the ground a second time. This time blood flew from his mouth as his head bounced against the straw, sending a plume of red-cream dust flying into the air.

 

Kaytee had thrown herself at fall speed into his side and was now sat on his legs trying to pull them up and away from the ground to stop him getting up. The only trouble was he was too strong, and he turned over with her on top sending her to the floor. This time it was Reaccas turn to come the rescue. She appeared from nowhere and flung her arms around his head, pulling at his ears. Searah could see he was getting angry and out of the corner of her eye saw his hands ball into a fist.

 

‘REACCA GET DOWN!’ she cried. His monstrous hand flew threw the air but missed the side of her head by inches as she dropped backwards and backed off towards the wooded edge. Kaytee had managed to get out from under his legs when Reacca had jumped him and now all three girls backed away from the giant of a man. He wiped a trickle of blood from the side of his mouth and looked down at the remains of it on his hand. His lip curled into an evil grin and his eyes took in each girl in turn, as if trying to assess which was the weakest.

 

A second later he chose Reacca and, in one fluid movement, stood and started running at her. Searah saw her go to ground as she had done minutes before but he wasn’t going to fall for that trick twice. He threw himself feet first across the floor at her. His powerful legs connected with her stomach and Reacca let out a scream that curdled Searah’s blood. He turned over and reached out towards Reacca. Without thinking, Searah ran and jumped once again onto his back, this time throwing her arms round his neck. This time he was in a much better position to get rid of her. He stood up, throwing both arms wide and for a split second the back of his head connected with hers.

 

Searah felt the whole thing in slow motion. Her body disconnected with his leaving nothing but air and spirit between her and the floor. Her hair whipped at her face as she flew backwards across arena. She felt herself open her eyes and look back at the man. As if through a white mist, she saw him bend over the limp body of Reacca, place one hand on either side of her head and, in one strong, powerful motion, twist. She heard the crack just before her head crashed into the solid wood surrounding the fight and her whole body crumbled to the floor. She opened her eyes, not stopping to notice the blood trickling down her forehead, not noticing the white mist had gone, not noticing the huge man in front of her start to bend down.

 

It was if she had taken the strength of every one in the crowd and forced it down into the ground through her legs. Every step pounded into the straw, sending up clouds of dust as she tore back towards the man that had done that to her friend, one of the most important people in her life. As if it was guiding itself, her hand flew forward and found the mans neck and her foot crashed into the back of his knee. As his legs crashed below his weight, the hand around his neck twisted and sent him flying into the wooden wall of the stadium where he lent for just a second, looking back at her, surprise in his eyes, before falling to the floor, face first into the dirt.

 

Searah knelt down next to Reaccas body and placed one hand on her cheek. Reacca blinked. Beneath Searahs hand, she shook her head slightly and turned to look directly up into her eyes.

 

‘Wow that man’s got a kick to him.’ Said Reacca, wincing as she tried to pull herself to her knees. ‘By the God that hurts, that’s going to bruise. Who did he pin, was it Kaytee?’

 

‘But your…your neck.’ Said Searah, stunned and confused.

 

‘My necks fine, it’s my stomach that arse hit.’

 

‘But I saw him, he reached down… your head.’

 

‘He didn’t touch my head. Are you ok? You landed pretty badly.

 

‘No, I’m fine but…’ Searah felt something collide with her back and the squeal of Kaytee's voice in her ear.

‘You did it! You bloody did it! By God you’re scary! 500 gold coins! Ha ha!!’

 

‘You what? We won but I thought..’ said Reacca, moving her gaze to the ecstatic look on Kaytee's face.

 

‘Naa, this girl,’ said Kaytee, messing up Searah’s hair, ‘this legend of a person did it, knocked him out! He was bending over, looked like he was going for the head the little…but then she crashed into his knees and sent him flying!’

 

The sound of the crowd came flooding back into Searah's ears just before the voice of the top hat man came calling out over it.

 

‘Ladies and gentlemen! Would you believe it! Two hundred fights undefeated and the Gladiator is finally down. This town must be made of strong stuff! Three cheers for Dounaton’s Gladiators!’

 

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. They were presented with their prize back in the comfortable red lined room whilst the Gladiator was being looked at by the carnival nurses. Searah remembered going on a couple of the more violent rides and thinking how tame they were. She remembered walking home with Kaytee and Reacca, calling out cheers of victory to every person they passed. She remembered walking back into her house, mother and father standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She remembered that her mother was angry and had shouted, asking what she thought she was doing. She also remembered that her father looked vaguely amused and perhaps a little proud.

 

Later that night, when her mother had shouted herself out and both she and her father had gone to bed she snuggled down into her own. Her spirits had settled down in their usual places; some by the window, some by the door, some on the bed or on her pillow. As she turned over and started to drift off to sleep, she remembered the fight. Her arms and legs twitched under the covers, as if reacting again to the blows of the Gladiator.

 

She turned again, trying to shake the memories free from her mind. Try as she might, however, she couldn’t forget the memory of flying through the air in slow motion, and of seeing the neck of one of her best friends, snap.

 

Author's Note

Thoughts, feelings, anything