The Midnight Carnivale

Chapter Two

          Despite several attempts by Oliver to get her to leave the loft, Rosie decided it would be best to remain there for the night. The look in Hayes eyes that afternoon had been so unsettling, so dark, that Rosie wasn't sure she'd sleep at all if she returned to the house.

          She also wasn't entirely certain she wanted to take the risk.

          "If you're staying, I'm staying too," Oliver declared with such resoluteness that Rosie almost smiled.

          Almost.

          Instead she scowled and wagged her finger at him.

          "Only if you promise to stop talking nonsense about leaving," Rosie insisted as he stretched out across the hay again. Oliver looked for a moment like he wanted to argue, but he finally held his hands up in surrender.

          "Fine," he said with a resigned sigh, "but only because I don't trust you not to push me out of the loft if I don't agree."

          He wasn't wrong to be worried.

          Despite his comment, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was a tell that Rosie had discovered several months ago and it meant he was up to no good. He knew that she knew, and he wanted her to ask, but Rosie refused to give him that satisfaction.

          Instead she crawled across the old straw, kicking up a pungent, earthy aroma into the air which floated around her in an invisible cloud.

          She reached the lofted doors and fumbled a moment with the latch holding them closed. Finding the wooden toggle, she worked it loose and pushed hard against the wooden slats until she felt them give. Carried forward on their own weight, the doors swung open wide revealing a wide sky smeared with vivid colors.

          Near the horizon golds and oranges blazed bright, like fingers of flames reaching towards the heavens, dazzling her eyes which had long since adjusted to the darkness of the loft. The vibrant warmth gave way to cool shades of pale pink and violet, on top of which lay a crown of stars twinkling brightly in the growing darkness.

          "There's a big wide world out there, Rosie."

          Oliver's voice was so quiet, so soft, that she thought she had imagined it at first. She turned to see him kneeling beside her at the edge of the opening, his gaze fixed on the far off horizon, a soft breeze tugging at his loose, dark curls like the impatient fingers of a mother attempting to bring order to chaos.

          In the fading glow of twilight he seemed different somehow, more mature, more reserved. The way the light played across the planes of his face made the soft lines seem harder, older somehow, and Rosie swore she saw a glimpse of the man inside the boy.

          "I told you-" she began only to be cut off when he pressed his finger to her lips.

          "Shh..." he said, "...listen."

          Rosie fell silent, hearing nothing.

          She was about to speak when a shrill call, distant and dancing just on the edges of her perception, broke the night. She looked back out towards the horizon where a thin stream of gray-white smoke now sliced a narrow path through the deepening gloom. It was the train Oliver had spoken of, the train he believed would carry him away from all their harsh reality.

          Rosie said nothing as the string of smoke was swallowed up by the encroaching night, and continued to sit in silence long after the last shrill scream had faded into distant memory.