Carousel

Chapter 1

Caden woke with tears running down his face in salty tracks. He dropped his head into his hands and let them fall, his skin sparkling like diamonds.

The haunting music of the carousel looped endlessly in his head like some kind of deathless symphony. There was no reprieve from its lingering memory and he found himself wishing almost desperately that he had listened to his therapist and undergone hypnosis to cure himself of the unwanted sound.

The only reason he held so tightly to the sound was the note. The one he found in his back pocket the day he woke up.

I'll come for you at the carousel.

He reached under his pillow and pulled out the worn note. It was creased and worn to the point of illegibility, but his fingers traced the shadows of the fading words without fail.

He held it close to his chest and bowed his head, his hair casting his eyes into deep shadow. His lips twisted and formed silent words.

A single heartbeat later, one glistening tear slipped down his cheek and splashed onto the much abused note, blurring the words further.

Distant as a dream, he heard a voice tell him not to cry, that everything would be alright.

Caden tried to chase the memory down, but as it always was with his past, he could never catch it. Tears of frustration slipped down his cheeks and he swallowed back a silent, hysterical laugh.

Most people tried to run away from their pasts, but Caden was running in the opposite direction, trying to chase his down.

But that little bit that slipped into his waking world, those few words, in that distant, wavery voice, as if the speaker were underwater, they gave him a small measure of comfort, chased away the unseen memories of the past and that haunting carousel.

Caden folded the note along the familiar creases and placed it back under his pillow, patting it in place out of habit.

His room was cold and gray, even with the pale light of the setting sun trying to force its way around the heavy curtains. It was also sparse in furniture and decoration, having only his bed, a nightstand, and the closet.

That was another thing he clung to with everything he had. The emptiness of his apartment was something he was used to, something from his past that his body remembered but his mind did not.

Caden flung his sheets to the side and swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting the fuzzy carpet with no sound. After stretching out his back and arms, he got up and pulled a pair of worn denim jeans from his closet, as well as a white tank top and blue button up shirt. Never mind the underwear; he never wore it anyway.

He lived well off the money he earned from his writing, so he had the time to sit around waiting at the abandoned carousel. There was no better inspiration for his novels than the very thing that haunted his dreams, his every waking thought.

The walk to the carousel was a long one, but one he took every night. He fell into the rhythm of the carousel's song when he walked, unable to get it out of his mind for even a second.

Before he knew it, he was outside the town and on the hill with that carousel. It once had been beautiful, but now was nothing more than a few rusting poles and dilapidated horses with missing eyes and hellish countenances. Weeds grew up around it and twined as close as lovers around its supports.

There was a cold, heavy press to the air around it, making it hard for Caden to breathe.

The other people in town refused to go near it, refused to speak of it, or even acknowledge its existence. Caden could never get a straight answer out of them when he asked about it.

What had happened there? Did it have anything to do with his past?

He asked himself those questions time and time again and never once came up with an answer. So all he could do was wait and trust that whoever wrote that note he found would come. It was his only clue as to who may know about his past.

Caden sat down on one of the horses and draped himself over its neck. Touching the repulsive thing made the air harder to breathe and drowned him in a sense of something elusive to name. He shivered, but his body grew used to the cold and the oppressive atmosphere and it became nothing more than an annoyance.

He swayed unconsciously to the sound of the music, letting it lull him into the past and 'see' what the carousel had once looked like in its prime.

Ah, it was a beautiful sight. It was crimson and gold, and sparkled in the sunlight. The music was still eerie and haunting, but that was all part of its attraction, that something so beautiful could have such an oddly frightening melody as its lifeblood.

The carousel began to turn, slowly, very slowly. Caden was only aware of the music and the blinding colors and lights.

I'll come for you at the carousel whispered through his mind.

When? he thought. When will you come for me?

There was no answering whisper, and the memory refused to be caught. Caden sighed and stared off into the night, the carousel song still playing at the edge of his hearing.

He shifted restlessly and drummed his fingers along the horse's neck in time with the song. The crescent moon above bathed everything in a cool, white light, except for the carousel, which only seemed to be shrouded in shadows.

Caden saw the man before he saw Caden. He was tall, almost the six and a half feet that Caden was, with hair down to his waist, the color of golden honey. Even with the distance between them, Caden could see that his eyes were a light color, very bright and luminescent, seeming to throw back the light like a cat's eyes.

He was dressed in dirty jeans and a black t-shirt and he carried a backpack over one shoulder. In his hands, he held a sketchbook, and there was an expensive looking camera hanging from his neck.

He stood a few feet away from the carousel, and the look on his face was rapturous, but caught between horror and fascination. It was a strange look, and one that Caden thought only fictional characters could pull off. Apparently, he had been wrong.

The man dropped his backpack to the ground, folded himself elegantly, and began to draw.

Caden watched him for awhile, fascinated with the way his hands moved so gracefully across the paper, his mind churning furiously with the possibility that this was the person who had written the note. He desperately wanted to approach the man and ask him if he was here for Caden, or if he had simply wandered into town as a starving artist, but his body refused to cooperate. It was as if someone else was calling the shots, and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Still, the carousel's song played in his hearing and filled him with a sense of dread. He felt the first tears slip down his eyes.

The man looked up at the carousel again, and it was at that moment that Caden slipped from the horse and crumpled to the ground, his face in his hands and tears silently falling.

“What -” the man said, rising fluidly to his feet. He dropped his sketchbook and jogged over to Caden, holding his camera to his chest.

“Hey, are you all right? Where did you even come from?” He gently shook Caden's shoulder.

Caden recoiled and looked up at him with wide eyes, tears sparkling on his cheeks. The man's eyes were the color of green glass.

The artist recoiled when Caden looked up at him, his boyishly handsome face twisting into something Caden couldn't name. He drew his arm up as if he was shielding himself from something and took a shaky step backward.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Caden shook his head, his tears drying. The carousel's song was drifting into oblivion now that his thoughts were focused on this man.

Caden Pierce, he thought. I'm Caden Pierce. His face twisted into a pained expression. He wanted to tell him that, but the words wouldn't come out.

The artist pulled back again, something like alarm crossing over his face.

“Caden,” he breathed, eyes frightened and voice strained.

Caden was surprised. His mouth dropped open slightly and he stared at the man in shock.

What are you? “What are you?”

The man folded himself onto the ground, still elegant despite his shock, and stared at Caden until he thought he would wither and burn to ash where he sat. There was something in the artist's eyes that made him uncomfortable, as if he was staring right into his very soul.

You can hear me?

The man nodded, though his expression was pinched.

Are you the one who left me the note?

“What note?”

The seed of hope that had taken root inside him died in that instant. He turned his face away so that the man wouldn't see the fresh tears on his face.

“Why are you crying?” He turned Caden's face back towards the light.

You aren't the one I'm waiting for.

“Who are you waiting for and why are you waiting here of all places? There's gotta be a better place in town.”

Caden shook his head. I don't know.

“Don't know who or don't know why?”

Both. Neither. I just don't know anymore. I don't remember.

The man's brow creased and he frowned slightly.

Who are you? Caden thought.

“Alexei Bavari,” he said. “And how are you getting in my head?”

I don't know.

Alexei muttered something under his breath and shook his head in a sharp, jerky movement. “Well could you stop it at least and talk out loud?”

I don't know how. And I can't speak.

“A mute?”

Caden shrugged and wiped away his tears. I don't remember.

“Whatever then. Do you know where there's a cheap hotel in town? I'm gonna be here for awhile until I finish with this carousel. Creepy thing.” He glanced at the broken down carousel and kicked it, his boot making the metal frame ring.

The song began to play again at the edge of Caden's hearing.

Panicked, he made an offer to Alexei that he perhaps shouldn't have, not knowing the man at all.

You can stay at my apartment, if that's okay with you. I have enough room and you won't have to spring for a room at the motel.

Alexei eyed him and rose to his feet, offering Caden a hand up.

“Sure, why not?”