The Apparent Junction of Earth and Sky

The Apparent Junction of Earth and Sky, Part III

He never did drugs. He never did them because this always happened. Every time. He wound up getting lost in a familiar place, sure that every street corner looked vaguely familiar but inevitably unable to tell if he was facing north, south, east, west,or some other direction. Ciaran was gone. Ciaran, who talked him into doing the drugs in the first place. Ciaran, who rarely did them himself. At least, as far as Brendan knew. That could be a lie. The same way this whole place was a lie, though he couldn't quite identify the falsehood.

It was beautiful, though.

A line of neon pink streaked across his vision from bottom to top and he staggered backward into the crowded street. He watched, his mouth wide open, as the carnival thrill ride took its passengers up into the dark night and brought them safely back to this electric circus.There was only time enough to hear shrill screams before the ride lifted them up again. Brendan laughed. In his head, he thought, but then out loud and he turned to make sure no one heard him. Then he forgot why he was looking around. He laughed again.

The smell of popcorn hit him hard. He drooled down the side of his lip and onto his stubbly chin. Immediately, he hoped that Mika couldn't see him. Then he remembered. Mika was gone. That was how Ciaran talked him into the drugs in the first place. She went back to the place where her son died. Brendan, as he kissed her, asked when she would come back to this place. Mika didn't know. She didn't know when, if ever. That didn't bother her nearly as much as it bothered him. That, in turn, bothered him a lot.

He was too old to be out there. For Christ's sake, he was pushing thirty. Well, not exactly, as Ciaran always reminded him, he was closer to twenty-five than thirty, but in a year all that would change and then he could worry about dying soon.

Still,everyone around him seemed to be seventeen or eighteen. Ciaran was younger than most of them and their presence was a chasm between him and his younger cousin. It was almost impossible to negotiate the rift. Even then, he tried. The drugs never worked, but they were better than staring the monster in the face.

The monster was suddenly facing him, though. A grotesque clown slithered past, the silk of its white suit rubbing against Brendan's bare forearm with a wheeze. Its red hair smelled like the inside of a plastic bag and as it danced around, most people gave it a wide berth. Brendan stood still, though, frozen there like an idiot. He was too old for this place, he thought. Too damn old.

When the clown saw that he wasn't moving, it turned to him. It bent its knees and cocked its face up to look at his face. Brendan didn't smile or laugh or cry; he just looked back. His vision was overcome by cracking white makeup around watering eyes.

"P-popcorn,"Brendan said. It was all he could think of.

The clown's face was expanding and contracting in his vision, its horrible mouth full of rotting teeth. For a moment, he wondered if this was one of those outsiders. He heard rumors about them sometimes. They strolled into places like this and made friends, then nabbed a few locals and dragged them out into the cities. Brendan didn't know what they did with them there. He only knew that it couldn't be good.

The clown straightened up and put its oversized hand on Brendan's chest.With its other, it pointed to a food truck a few yards away. Brendan did smile then, a goofy, toothy grin. He walked away without looking at the clown. The neon pink line whizzed past his peripheral and he took a step to the right to avoid it. He pressed his hand against the side of the truck to steady himself.

"Yeah?"the man in the truck said curtly.

"Popcorn,"Brendan repeated.

Absentmindedly,he handed his entire wallet to the man. The man laughed and took out the right amount. He chucked the wallet back at Brendan, who caught it on his chest.