ladyboneranon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladyboneranon) wrote2012-07-04 03:07 pm
ladyboneranon) wrote2012-07-04 03:07 pm
Entry tags:
Circus Open Post text (draft)
The Carnival is in town.
It sprung up last night, grown in the middle of a vast field, crushing grass to mud beneath boots and truck-wheels and canvas tents. By evening, the lights come on; an eerie, mechanical music drifts over the midway; an alluring smell scents the night air; the Ferris wheel gleams, a distant beacon for visitors. Come, come and see, look at the horrors, the wonders, the thrills… step out of the skin of your lonely, grey life for a night and experience the fantastic.
The Carnival is vast, and of many parts.
The Midway is open as you wander in. Everywhere, bells sound, cymbals clang, jaunty tunes jarring and jousting from stall to stall. The food smells of grease and salt and sweet; there are hot dogs and burgers, funnel cake, corndogs, cotton candy. Beware of the food; it may fire you with lust, or give you impulses you never had before. There are games. Ring tosses, strength tests, shooting games, gambling games. They will entrance you, if you are not careful. You will drift to them and play and play and play until you lose everything -- and then you will belong to the stall. Or perhaps you'll be one of the rare winners, and you'll be able to select your prize from among the losers. You can take anything you want from them…
Off of the Midway, you may find the sideshows, full of strange beings. Men and women with lizard's skin or animal's ears and tails, or joined together, contortionists and sword-swallowers -- or, in the darkened back rooms, you may find women with breasts freakishly large, men with cocks far too long, or with vaginas, or in-between creatures that are male and female both. Watch them give you a show, reach out to touch them or milk them or abuse them, or perhaps rent one out for yourself.
By these, there is the tent for a burlesque dance, known as the cooch, in which strippers bare skin for your pleasure, in strange and convoluted dances, with painted skin and eerie costumes. They may take you to the stage and have you participate, or you may find yourself so overcome with arousal that you must relieve it -- perhaps with your neighbor, as the tent dissolves into a darkened orgy, perhaps by purchasing the time of a dancer after the show.
Take a left, from the Midway, and you'll find the magic show, led by a magician who entrances with fire and tricks. Find yourself volunteering, moving like a puppet to everything he (or she) says, dancing at will. You'll do anything, so long as you are commanded to.
Next to this broods a haunted house lined with cobwebs and populated by creaks and groans and mysterious rattles echoing down darkened hallways. The rooms are pitched in shadow, windows curtained and boarded, lit only by unreliable bulbs and flickering candle-light. You don't know what you might encounter here; perhaps the ghosts are real, and they will steal you away with cold, insubstantial fingers. Perhaps demons lurk around the corners and would have their wicked way with the wandering customers. There are things in the lower floors, things with tentacles and glistening eyes. The hall of mirrors, upstairs, may have strange effects; reflections are often distorted, if you can find your way out, you may find that you have become that distorted reflection. Perhaps your reflection might even come to life, and you might be able to touch and speak with an identical version of yourself.
At the center of the carnival, the circus. Tiers of seats for the audience lead down to the center ring, where someone is always performing. A ringmaster cracks a whip over tricking animals that are, on closer examination, human themselves, collared or altered, acting in absolute obedience to the ringmaster.
So visit, innocent one. Count yourself lucky to go home after; count yourself lucky that you haven't been trapped, forced to perform into eternity.
It sprung up last night, grown in the middle of a vast field, crushing grass to mud beneath boots and truck-wheels and canvas tents. By evening, the lights come on; an eerie, mechanical music drifts over the midway; an alluring smell scents the night air; the Ferris wheel gleams, a distant beacon for visitors. Come, come and see, look at the horrors, the wonders, the thrills… step out of the skin of your lonely, grey life for a night and experience the fantastic.
The Carnival is vast, and of many parts.
The Midway is open as you wander in. Everywhere, bells sound, cymbals clang, jaunty tunes jarring and jousting from stall to stall. The food smells of grease and salt and sweet; there are hot dogs and burgers, funnel cake, corndogs, cotton candy. Beware of the food; it may fire you with lust, or give you impulses you never had before. There are games. Ring tosses, strength tests, shooting games, gambling games. They will entrance you, if you are not careful. You will drift to them and play and play and play until you lose everything -- and then you will belong to the stall. Or perhaps you'll be one of the rare winners, and you'll be able to select your prize from among the losers. You can take anything you want from them…
Off of the Midway, you may find the sideshows, full of strange beings. Men and women with lizard's skin or animal's ears and tails, or joined together, contortionists and sword-swallowers -- or, in the darkened back rooms, you may find women with breasts freakishly large, men with cocks far too long, or with vaginas, or in-between creatures that are male and female both. Watch them give you a show, reach out to touch them or milk them or abuse them, or perhaps rent one out for yourself.
By these, there is the tent for a burlesque dance, known as the cooch, in which strippers bare skin for your pleasure, in strange and convoluted dances, with painted skin and eerie costumes. They may take you to the stage and have you participate, or you may find yourself so overcome with arousal that you must relieve it -- perhaps with your neighbor, as the tent dissolves into a darkened orgy, perhaps by purchasing the time of a dancer after the show.
Take a left, from the Midway, and you'll find the magic show, led by a magician who entrances with fire and tricks. Find yourself volunteering, moving like a puppet to everything he (or she) says, dancing at will. You'll do anything, so long as you are commanded to.
Next to this broods a haunted house lined with cobwebs and populated by creaks and groans and mysterious rattles echoing down darkened hallways. The rooms are pitched in shadow, windows curtained and boarded, lit only by unreliable bulbs and flickering candle-light. You don't know what you might encounter here; perhaps the ghosts are real, and they will steal you away with cold, insubstantial fingers. Perhaps demons lurk around the corners and would have their wicked way with the wandering customers. There are things in the lower floors, things with tentacles and glistening eyes. The hall of mirrors, upstairs, may have strange effects; reflections are often distorted, if you can find your way out, you may find that you have become that distorted reflection. Perhaps your reflection might even come to life, and you might be able to touch and speak with an identical version of yourself.
At the center of the carnival, the circus. Tiers of seats for the audience lead down to the center ring, where someone is always performing. A ringmaster cracks a whip over tricking animals that are, on closer examination, human themselves, collared or altered, acting in absolute obedience to the ringmaster.
So visit, innocent one. Count yourself lucky to go home after; count yourself lucky that you haven't been trapped, forced to perform into eternity.