The Midway

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The Midway

D. A. Ratliff

Do you know any place on Earth that is more exciting than a carnival midway? Granted, the rows of worn tents, paint-chipped signs, and bare light bulbs during daylight hours evoked a seedy, almost tawdry appearance. Quiet surrounded me, and the air hung heavy with rancid cooking grease, straw, and horse manure, filling my nostrils with an unpleasant yet satisfying sensation. A carnival during the day was not a pleasant experience for anyone.

It was at night when the midway became magical.

I walked along the main thoroughfare after sundown, surrounded by giggles from small children, bashful laughing by teenagers feeling the first blush of romance, and adults hoping to recapture the joy of their youth. The multicolored lights veiled the stars, twinkling in the clear dark sky, and illuminated the worn canvas, giving the appearance of velvet curtains. I stopped as always and bought a funnel cake from a darling boy, one of my favorite carnival workers, at a concession stand.

Joy filled my soul as I savored the sweet and oily taste of the funnel cake, the powered sugar sticking to my fingertips. I relished being among the guests as they tried their luck to win a silly prize or screamed while on a particularly fast or frightening ride. I especially loved the screams coming from the haunted house and prided myself on how realistic the ghosts and goblins inside were. I wanted to take in the glittering lights, loud music, and raucous laughter, but I had a show to do—after all, I was The Great Amon, the Magician.

I slipped through the rear of the tent, quickly applied my makeup, and donned my costume. Adjusting the purple silk turban on my head, I stepped onto the stage to applause. The room was full of expectant faces, and I would not disappoint them. For the next forty minutes, I enthralled the audience with one trick more fanciful than the one before. They gasped, oohed and aahed, screamed, and ended up on their feet, clapping loudly.

My heart burst with glee as my audience filed out. I stood next to the entrance, thanking all for coming and handing lollipops to the children. The special children, whose eyes told me the carnival entranced them, received red lollipops. The others, who would go home with their parents, received green, yellow, and blue.

Closing time arrived, and with a flick of my hand, the lights went out, and the carnival vanished. For years, the whereabouts of the missing children continued to remain unknown. They disappeared, leaving the red lollipops in their place but no memories of a carnival that came to town that night.

As I walked along the midway during the daylight hours in another unsuspecting town, I observed my newest carnival workers learning their trade from the children brought here before them. I smiled. Magic also existed in the daylight on the carnival midway.

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