(originally published by Literally Stories UK in 2024–Image by CJA)

(Behold the first thing I ever saw written by CJA–Leila)

I took long walks into the insomniac’s night. Wild music thumped on the deserted sidewalk. I peered into the smeary barroom window. A man in coveralls slept with his head on his arms at a table. Pool balls cracked next to his ear. Angry hairy faces, full of booze were engaged in the battle of the green felt, and blood may spill. I walked onward before I drew some menace from the watering hole. Then I met the traveler on a starless street corner.

He came along wearing something like a hooded robe. He stopped me by the defunct Family Video store, with its empty shelves, near the silent railroad tracks. “Hey pal, you got a cigarette?”

He was hard to make out in the fuzzy darkness that seemed more dangerous than usual since the carnival came to town. The orange streetlights reflected off the shop windows but didn’t reach the outer darkness, where we stood. The string of stoplights flashed a perpetual yellow—saying in a dozing blink, “Sleep town, sleep, but if you come through, you may pass.” Beyond the railroad tracks, a green Ferris Wheel climbed above the black trees, and I heard the screams of a crowd. I fished for my smokes.

“Here you go.” Smokers somehow can always spot other smokers. It’s not our offending cigarette stink. We are immune to that, or the orange fingertips. Perhaps it’s a sixth sense of addiction that gives us this special power. I don’t really know? Or a desperation in our body language that cues other smokers. Something a little grimy on the rind of our skin tone. Who knows? I know about Jonesing, jittering along alleys, looking for a butt, or accosting a stranger.

“Thanks, chief.” I went from pal to chief. I sort of liked his names for me. He lit the cigarette with an unseen lighter, like a magic trick. It warbled, flashing blue then hot white. I winced at how bright it was, and I imagined Luke Skywalker and his saber lighting up the universe. His mouth worked fast, and he took nervous quick drags. “Are-are you heading to the carnival, chief?” I noticed he carried a bag, and it moved around.

“Thought about it.” It was Friday night, and it had been luring me all week with greasy food and the noisy, sexless crowd. I envisioned corn dogs and elephant ears under the bright, obfuscating yellow lights, and the constant buzz of people like hornets in a hive. The wind picked up, and a paper cup took off dancing, doing a lonely tango across the street. I didn’t like that sack squirming around, was he harming an animal?

“Would you do me a favor, pal?” I saw a shine of eagerness in his dark eyes or imagined it in his high voice.

“It depends?” I judged this man as the user type, possibly a carnival grifter, a carny. A creature of lore that has a distant lineage with the Roma people, unfavorably called Gypsies. I imagined him operating the Ferris Wheel too fast and braking hard, sucking on a bottle of Jack Daniels, or running the shell game with a blur of dexterity. “Do you have an animal in that bag, sir?”

“Yes, you have found out my secret. I’m Roberto, and I’m ecstatic to make your acquaintance. Any fellow smoker is a confederate of mine. You know how people are these days.” He stuck out his hand, and I shook it, finding it cold, then he took a drag, lighting up his hood. A pleasant smile appeared in the cigarette’s bright cherry. A smile that no doubt opened doors and maybe a lady’s bodice, if there is such a thing now? “Can you do me a square? I think the term is square…or a favor.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to be his confederate or do him any favors. His words were odd, like he came from a gentile novel, or maybe that was part of his con? I asked, “So what can I do for you?” I’m always so ridiculously helpful to a fault. His features were still hard to see. So I went on his anxious body language and excited voice tone.

“I have to catch a motor coach, a-a bus, and I can’t take the rabbit. Would you take care of Mr. Jumpers?”

“Do what?”

“He’s a good boy, and he’s part of the vaudeville—or-or the magic act. I shouldn’t have taken him. Please tend him for me?” I followed his gaze down the street to the dark bus station. The Greyhound sign blinked. A distant set of headlights trundled through the flashing yellow lights, and I heard the pressure hiss of air brakes. Roberto tried to hand me the bag, then put it on the sidewalk. “I must go!” He flicked his cigarette into the street, and red sparks flew up.

“Wait!” He ran, and I saw white stars and moons on the back of his black cloak. I briefly thought he was a magician, and he indeed disappeared. I watched him climb right onto the bus, and it was moving in a wide arc heading back to the highway. Roberto in the lit-up windows was just a faceless hood with his thumb up. I watched the red taillights disappear through the series of yellow flashing lights.

“Gee whiz! What is going on here?” The bag tried to hop away. I felt sorry for the abandoned rabbit. If it was a rabbit? I picked it up, and it stretched upward. I flinched trying to keep hold of the elongated bag that pushed on its strong back legs. “It’s okay, buddy.” It calmed down in my arms. I carried it toward the nearest streetlight.

I screwed up my courage and loosened the drawstring. Tall white ears flopped out like warm velvet touching my hand, and big red eyes caught the streetlight. I noticed there were white stars and moons on the bag like Roberto’s coat. I carefully petted the white head and realized the rabbit was friendly and it was heavy. It tucked its body deeper into my cradled arms, and I felt a wave of sympathy for it. “It’s going to be alright, Mr. Jumpers.”

I looked across the railroad tracks and the green lit Ferris Wheel was still turning above the trees, and it was almost 1:30 A.M.

Should I find the owner at the carnival? The stretch was darker than uptown, with each step I seemed to head to some fate. The Ferris Wheel climbing closer above the trees like the wheel in the sky. Mr. Jumpers rode without squirming.

The gate entrance of the 4-H Park was open and the bright carnival smell of fried grease and cotton candy greeted me. I saw the lit-up arms of the teacup ride lifting and spinning a tired person into the night sky. The person looked like a captive drifting into the darkness, and spinning into the light. I didn’t see anyone operating the ride. It spooked me, and instead of investigating, I kept moving.

The midway was dim and full of flattened snow cone paper cups and cigarette butts. The games wound down to a few hangers-on, half-heartedly tossing rings and ping-pong balls at goldfish bowls. Like some force kept them gambling for trinkets and stuffed monkeys. Teenagers with glassy feral eyes strolled down the midway. I tucked Mr. Jumpers closer to me. The rabbit shivered. Why did I come here?

I guess insomniacs don’t know what they are doing in the wee hours, so I walked past the dark oval of the grandstand where a smash-up Derby banner hung. It said, Friday 7:00 PM $7.50 General Attendance-KIDS FREE. Wrecked cars sat out in the oval, where loose horses trotted. The cars looked like mangled prehistoric beasts all done for this world.

I walked toward the darkness up to a long building with a single light on the peak. I heard the sounds of large animals banging into the stall walls.

The bag stiffened, and Mr. Jumpers cried. I am not familiar with rabbits, but it was certainly a cry. A shadow grew from the darkness. It formed as if it came up from the grass, and he entered the circle of light like an actor on a stage. A gleaming black suit, long shiny pants a black hat and flowing white hair and dark circles under his eyes. “I see you have the rabbit.” It sounded like he meant his rabbit.

“Yes.”

“He was to be retired tonight after the last show. Roberto wanted to save him but saved himself.”

“What do you mean by retired, sir?” I felt the little creature’s heart beating next to mine. It seemed to know about death. Both of us were frightened now.

“All must retire from the stage.”

“But the rabbit wants to live is all.”

“Ah well, so he does.” He folded himself into a courtly bow, something like a praying mantis, and tapped his tall hat. He looked benign with a strange and gracious smile. His eyes were black and deadly. “I’ll see you another night.”

I thought, me? What do you want with me? I felt the rabbit shaking, and I looked down, saying, “It’s okay.” and when I looked up the man was gone.

My footsteps followed Roberto’s back up the street. I am saving the rabbit, coursed through my mind. The Ferris Wheel loomed behind me and seemed to grow in power and meaning with every step, like the circle of life. I wondered about that person on the teacup ride. Were they still on an aimless journey, spinning to nowhere?

I found myself on the starless street corner, and I held the rabbit. The defunct Family Video store watched me with blank black windows. “You’re safe now Mr. Jumpers.” I felt the street and the planks of the world wanting to pull apart. I’d had that sensation before.

THE END