Day Four: Snowflake (28th of July)

There was something tragically beautiful about abandoned carnivals.

Something that seemed to reel you in and ensnare your very interest.

Something terrifyingly enchanted.

Being left behind can cause massive emotional turmoil to a simple human- so imagine how it would affect a carnival, neglected by eager newcomers.

Farah Sterling was one of those eager newcomers.

She was curious though, about the deserted carnival, and managed to look at her scout leader directly in the eye as she fibbed about how she would absolutely die if she didn’t visit the restrooms this very second.

The leader tutted and shook his head, informing her of the dangers of being alone in the countryside. No- no, that wouldn’t do at all.

Farah grabbed hold of the edge of his shirt and looked at him pleadingly, green eyes sparkling with threatening tears. The scout leader sighed, knowing that he simply could not refuse. However, he wasn’t going to let a mere twelve-year-old girl prance around the moors all by herself, so he instructed a buddy to accompany her to search for the nearest toiletry and that they should be back as soon as they can.

The rain was frightening as it lashed against the window of the café they were finding refugee in, causing his assigned troops to fidget with restlessness.

“When are we going back to the hotel?” they complained.

“How is this a café if they don’t ‘ave any food!”

“This place smells like my dad!”

Frank, the scout leader, pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to relax.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here in no time! We’re just waiting for Luke and Farah,” he said, smiling falsely. He looked at his partner, Kimberly, panicked expression plastered on his face. Are they back yet?

She peered at the chattering crowd before her, then shook her head. Nope.

Frank pointed at the watch on his wrist. It’s been two hours.

Kimberly shrugged helplessly and resumed watching the windows (which wasn’t very helpful due to all the rain) for signs of the children’s return.

***

“Farah, what are you doing?”

Farah was picking stubbornly at a lock for quite some time now, ignoring Luke’s frowns and worrying questions.

“It-won’t-open,” she hissed, shaking the bars of the gates.

Luke sighed for what seemed to be the thousandth time that night and huddled closer to her; it was freezing out here, he thought.

“Maybe it’s fate. Maybe we’re not supposed to be looking for a bathroom... in an abandoned carnival,” he mumbled the last part to himself, staring sadly at his once bright blue trainers-  they were soaking wet now, and he couldn’t feel his toes.

Farah huffed in annoyance and glanced at her ‘buddy’. “Why’d you come if you’re so uncomfortable in the first place?” Luke was about to answer but she cut him off. “Just go back. I’ll be fine. Really.”

Luke raised a questioning eyebrow. “Scout leader Frank told me to come with you. I’m your buddy, and buddies stick together.”

He gazed longingly out in the distance, trying to spot the rickety wooden café from between the thickets of pine trees.

“I don’t care about the stupid scout leader, I just-” she shook the bars of the gate again, “-want to go in there,” she said, pointing at the ferris wheel.

Luke gave her a quizzical look. “Why? This place is a dump- that’s what it is.”

Farah pulled a face. “No it isn’t. It’s a carnival. And carnivals are fun. I-want-to-have-fun. I mean, we won’t even leave this place until the rain stops,” she replied, glancing up at the sky, which was still grey and angry.

Luke touched Farah’s arm and made sure she was looking at him. Hazel met green and he said softly, “Come on, Farah, we’ve been here for an hour. Let’s go?”

Farah rolled her eyes, and shook Luke’s hand off her shoulder. “Fine. Whatever.”

They trudged along the slippery street, and Farah was forced to hold Luke’s hand in fear of slipping down the slope. She turned around and gazed at the Farris wheel, whimsical in its rusty way. She was about to walk away when something caught her eye.

“Luke- Luke! I found it! I found an entrance!”

Luke whipped his head and Farah could see his fingers curl into a fist. “I don’t want to go in!” he whined, stamping his foot, which caused him to trip on his own shoelaces and plummet awkwardly on the floor (an occurrence Luke would later swear hadn't happened). 

Farah smirked at the sight and ran towards the fences, feeling that lady luck favored her desires after all.

Luke mumbled in frustration and scratched his head. How is she doing that? How isn’t she falling?

He managed to get up (pitifully, mind you) and walked slowly over to where Farah was crouching. He finally got a good look at what she’d been talking about. The fences here were roughly snipped, pointy edges maliciously waiting for its next victim. The grass poked out from under the cement, budding flowers a blooming.

Farah was hunched down, legs visible only. She seemed to be in some sort of.. cat flap? A dog enterance? Luke wondered.

He coughed, trying to make his presence acknowledged. “I’m here.”

“Luke- this place.. it’s so cool,” she echoed, her voice ringing. Maybe it was a laundry shoot?

“What are you doing?”

Farah tucked in her legs and she was gone completely.

Minutes ticked by, and Farah wasn't out yet. Luke groaned in vexation. 

“Farah?” His voice reeked of panic.

Farah’s head popped out from the flap (or chute- whatever it was) and she flashed him a million watt smile. She was dripping wet. “Come on in, Luke, the water’s fine.”

“Farah...? Why are you wet?”

She tucked in a strand of wet hair neatly behind an ear and held out her hand.

“This place... I think it was like an ice cave or something.”

“This is a recreational building,” he pointed out, arms crossed, pout perfectly worn. She ignored him, beckoning him to come closer. “Luke. Look at my hand.” Luke finally took notice of her hand, his mouth forming an ‘O’.

“Is that a snowflake?”

- left-foot-fowl

Um. 


I don't know. 


My fingers wrote and wrote and wrote and my brain went blank. I don't even know. Honestly, I don't. I'm sorry you had to read that.