Carnival Souls

Atlas's History

Lira lay on her bed, trying to convince her mind to shut off so she could get some rest. But her mind couldn't seem to let go of Owen's words.

Don't let yourself think like that.

She couldn't afford to hope again. Not after all these years of going through the motions and training herself to be numb.

Hope was a funny thing though. Even the smallest taste left you addicted and craving more. And Owen had presented it on a silver platter.

Before Owen, Mitsi had been the last servant she had summoned on Bebinn's orders, nearly two years ago. A reserved boy of Asian descent, he had accepted his captivity with few questions and only one true demand to be returned home. After it became clear that his request was not going to be honored, he turned his energy to cooking.

Like all of the other kids who served Bebinn, the finer details of his job remained a mystery to her, but Lira knew asking him wouldn't yield anything knew. What Lira did know was that Mitsi was responsible for providing the carnival food, laced with whatever ingredients Bebinn gave him to prime kids for the spell Lira played at night. He also made the food that would calm them down when they arrived and invariably freaked out.

But now that Owen was here, his hope was like a disease; one Lira wasn't sure she wanted to catch.

Lira threw an arm over her eyes.

"Why?" she said aloud to no one in particular.

"Why what?" Atlas entered the room with a steaming mug.

Though Lira had been granted her own room over a year ago, the younger girl often visited Lira in her downtime.

"Nothing," replied Lira. She sat up, gripping the bed frame when the room spun around her.

"Here, this will help." Atlas held out the mug. It smelled faintly of peppermint. Lira took a sip and felt some of the fog clear from her mind.

"Thanks, Atlas."

Lira studied the other girl for a moment. With the appearance of Owen, Lira was reminded again that Atlas had remained virtually unchanged since Lira had first met her. Unlike Lira, Mitsi, and Jacks, Atlas still looked like the same ten-year-old little girl. Lira had assumed Atlas's halted growth had something to do with the Spirit World, but she had never voiced the question, not wanting to offend Atlas. After all, Atlas was her only real friend in this place, and, usually, Lira came to the conclusion that it didn't really matter all that much.

But now, Lira's curiosity was piqued again, especially in the wake of Owen's unlikely arrival. What made him hear the music? she wondered.

Both questions sat heavy on her tongue, but it was a different one she asked.

"Atlas, do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you weren't here?"

The other girl's solemn, red eyes regarded her in their usual measured way. "I don't have to wonder. I already know."

Lira paused in bringing the mug to her lips again. "What do you mean?"

"The path my life would have followed was always pretty clear."

Lira moved to the edge of the bed, tea forgotten. Atlas saw her renewed interest and sighed.

"I was born in Colombia. My family had very little to our name. My father was not a bad man, but he fell in with the wrong people in trying to provide for us. I never found out exactly what he got himself involved in, but it changed him. He came home less and less and when he did, he drank too much. He had never been able to hold his liquor well, and the stress that came with his job made it worse. He would beat us if we made too much noise or didn't do exactly what he said as soon as he said it.  

"One night, my mom took us away. We traveled to Mexico under aliases. Things got better, for a time.

"Then, a few months later, my father showed up. I had seen him angry before--I haven't yet learned a word to describe what he looked like that night, barging into our house snorting like a bull and screaming for my mother, dragging her into the hall by her hair. When I tried to help her, he picked me up and threw me against the stairs. I blacked out and woke up in a hospital three days later.

"If I hadn't been taken, it probably would've happened again. The Spirit World might not be great, but neither was my life before. Here at least no one's throwing me like a beer bottle."

Atlas had not moved while she spoke, hands still by her sides, her voice even and eyes clear. But it was Lira who felt frozen, like all her joints had locked up and rusted in place. Atlas had never spoken about her childhood, always diverting questions whenever conversation turned in that direction. Eventually, Lira learned to avoid the topic all together and now she was at a loss for words. Instead, she felt her mouth hanging open like a fish, incapable of closing it. Her drink was in danger of falling over on her lap, but she didn't take much notice.

Whatever Lira had imagined about Atlas's past had never included this.

"You don't have to say anything," said Atlas, once again coming to Lira's rescue. "My point is this place, like everything else, is relative. Comparing it may help you and it may not. I don't imagine a different life or what it would be like because it doesn't help me."

"So if you had the chance to go back, you wouldn't?" Lira blurted out. Stupid. She pressed her knuckles to her lips. "I'm sorry--I didn't..."

Atlas's head titled ever so slightly in that bird-like manner she had. "There's no point in wondering about scenarios that will never happen." With that, she took the mug from Lira, and left the room.

---------------------------------------------------

So, we've learned a bit more about Atlas. What do you think?

What do you think Lira will do about Owen?

Also, I have some pretty exciting news. Carousel Affliction won first place in Fantasy in the Undiscovered Writer Awards :) It's a great feeling, and I just want to say thank you to everyone who has ever given this story a chance :) Keep on rocking!