Five Sentence Fiction – Festival

The pipes were covered in rust and the gears clogged with debris, but the calliope reliably creaked to life, the weather-beaten faces of the horses and elephants looking manic and diseased as they began their dance. Patrons dribbled in, one, two, more, sensing the thrill of the hunt in the air, their faces a macabre parody of joy. The tent in the center was more patch and glue than anything else – it had been torn down ten thousand times and rebuilt ten thousand-and-one – and it was as sturdy as ever. When the benches were full, the lights came on, revealing the imps for who they were, and they cheered and shouted their glee and their hate at the stage, knowing it was about to begin. Slowly I walked out on the stage, paused, held my arms out in welcome, and the imps tore me to shreds and I howled at my own impotence as the daily festival in my mind began.


8 Responses to “Five Sentence Fiction – Festival”

  1. Wow. It must be tough to be you.

  2. Oh, dear, how horrific to live with that daily. Nice writing.

  3. Oh my…that is quite a story!

  4. Such an amazing metaphor written so well!

  5. “…shouted their glee and their hate” perfect descriptor. You did a great job with this! I admire how you were able to capture all the nuances of one setting and yet not overdo them as a metaphor for another. Excellent.

  6. clowns, the circus, fairgrounds, the midway, carneys all can be fodder for nightmares. Great take on the prompt.

  7. A lot to think about in this post. Well done.

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