Mr. Mortok's Hall of Curiosities

The End

     Terror strikes them as their host's limbs stretch and pull in strange shapes as darkness falls over him. A hideous low chuckle rumbles out from him as the child in the cage sits forlorn in her cage, her shadow lashing and straining to be free.

     Mortok's face changes, becoming an terrible old man, a pretty young woman, a child, a mother. It settles into a visage old and cruel; it settles into a face that has seen cities fall and castles burn. The fire is flickering faster and faster and the crowd looks around desperate for a way out. Screams bubble up in their throats as the fire blazes and does nothing to keep the darkness away. The girl in the cage looks out at them and whispers a single word. 

"Run."

     Then suddenly they are safely in the hall, the not quite permanent structure that they have walked through, once again, around them. Mr. Mortok puffs on his pipe looking as normal as one can expect from him. The cheap lights glow and as they look back they see all the various bric-a-brac they have viewed crammed tightly together, the attraction much smaller than they remembered. Was it that long to begin with? Had they really covered that much distance? On the last pedestal, there sits a small crafted doll of a large eyed girl in a cage that seems to have been made from painted black wires. Behind her, painted on her diorama, is a twisted shadow.

     The fear, which so grasped them, has evaporated as Mr. Mortok thanks them for their business. Though he refers to it as their "custom" and takes one last puff on the pipe (was it the smoke that made the place seem larger than it was?) before opening the exit to allow the crowd out. They trickle out into the carnival, and while many make a half-hearted attempt to enjoy other parts of the carnival, they inevitably filter back home. 

     The lovers hold each other a little tighter that night, though they do not know why. Their kisses are a bit more fevered, their couplings just a bit more desperate than on any other day. The dreamers dream darkly and deeply that night, their minds opening to wonders and terrors that only the deep mind can fathom. Those who came alone hunt aimlessly in the night looking for companionship, unable to express why they feel so very lonely and desperate after such a good day at the carnival.

     Moreover, in a strange booth that is not a booth, a strange tent that is not a tent, that is both long and pathetically short at the same time, a thin man with long fingers smokes his pipe and takes stock of his oddities. He waits for the next crowd, for the next crowd always comes. If not today, then perhaps tomorrow. He takes stock of the trinkets and the bric-a-brac that he has collected. He considers rearranging them for the next show. There are always new stories in his collection and the showman in him refuses to allow the act to grow stale.

     He kindly thanks the boy who brings him his dinner later and slips a few crumpled dollars into the hands of the boy, who is equal parts interested and repulsed by this strange man. He makes a show of picking at the food; he is not hungry, he fed already tonight. Nowadays he feeds on the only food that really matters to him. Instead, he stops and sits by the fire at the end of the clearing. He offers the food on the Styrofoam container to the child in the cage. He smiles at how drawn into his hall of oddities the customers were this day.

     "They never run," he says conversationally to her as she quietly eats the offered food. In that moment, it is obvious that the cage is more for the shadow than the girl as it lashes about, struggling to be free.

     "I know," she says softly. She finishes the sticky food, licking her lips and her fingers to get every last bit of the sauce from them so that she does not stain her dress. As the fire flickers, behind her the shadow twists and whirls and rattles the cage. Behind him is a shadow much too small for him, out of place, but no less his now. It has been for quite some time. He packs his pipe, smokes slowly, and silently gazes into the fire. Soon, there will be others who will come to see his collection. He looks at the girl and she looks back at him expectantly.

     "Have I ever told you about the city of Babylon, child?" She shakes her head no and he prepares to tell her the tale. It will pass the time until others come to see his collection and she enjoys the stories.

There are always others who wish to hear his tales.