I was glad I had remembered to slide some shoes on before I stepped outside. The air was chilly, and the ground was probably worse.
The walk to the pavilion felt longer than it should've. Every step took me a tiny portion of the distance I was used to. My body was numb.
Maybe I should just go and wait for someone to unlock the door. Once I didn't come back to our room, my sister might sneak over and let me in. Then again, if they had meant to lock me out, she could get in trouble for letting me in. Could I risk that?
I looked back at the house. No lights were on.
I kept walking.
My foot bumped into the first step into the pavilion sooner than I'd expected.
Right choice.
The old-fashioned bulbs made it slightly warmer in the pavilion. I found myself vaguely concerned about a fire starting, then wondering if that was even a concern with a magical pavilion that moved around by itself.
I sat down, then curled up on the floor. It was a little chilly, but it was better than the freezing, prickly welcome mat.
There was a particular smell the pavilion always had that I'd never really noticed before now. Maybe the combination of the cold and the warm, old-fashioned lights made it stronger. Who knew? It was comforting though.
Slowly, sensation returned to my body. The haze in my thoughts started to clear. I noticed that my little spot on the floor was actually getting warm. It should've been to cold out for that. Magic pavilion, I reminded myself. Don't question. Just hold onto the safe space.
Music?
I heard music. Didn't I?
The moment I sat up it was gone.
I looked around. The house was gone.
Maybe the fairies had finally kidnapped me. Some books said that you could hear music when fairies were nearby.
For a few moments I couldn't find the energy to get excited about it.
Then I noticed the light.
Just outside the other entrance there was an old ticket booth, the run-down kind you see at the really questionable carnivals that pass through. In that booth, there was a single, flickering lightbulb.
I don't think I had any sense of self-preservation at that point. If I did, I don't think I would've gotten up and walked over to that mildly ominous ticket booth.
The closer I got to it, the less the light flickered.
I glanced back at the pavilion and realized that for once, the distance wasn't changing. Even when I got all the way to the ticket booth, the pavilion stayed put, like it was waiting on me. The thought was comforting.
There was no sign that anyone had been in the ticket booth for a very long time. Dust had collected inside of it, and a very large spider made it's newest home in a corner up next to the lightbulb. The old swivel chair inside the booth was in pretty sad condition, but the cushion didn't have any tears or holes in it. If there hadn't been so much dust, it actually would've looked like the vendor had just left for a quick break.
Music again.
It was coming from just past the ticket booth.
From the carnival.
There wasn't much light out that night, but I could make out the outlines of rides and games in the distance. I also noticed, for the first time, a temporary fence stretching out in either direction from the sides of the ticket booth. On the right though, there was a walkway-sized gap between the booth and the fence, leading into the carnival.
I glanced back at the pavilion, a little unsure. It was still sitting exactly where I'd left it, waiting patiently.
The music, like tiny little crystal bells, called my attention back to the carnival.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped around the booth, closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them and walked carefully in the direction of the music.
Another string of Christmas lights stretched away from the back corner of the ticket booth. As I walked away from the booth, the lights on the strand moved. Well, they didn't actually move. What I mean is the light moved. The three bulbs I was closest to lit up, and the others behind me went dark again. The further away I was, the more the bulb in the ticket booth flickered, until it went out too.
Then I was standing under a streetlight with strands of Christmas lights swinging away in different directions. The streetlight was amber; a subtle difference from the ivory Christmas lights.
Tiny bells jingled behind me cheerfully.
I turned instantly, startled to hear them so close to me.
A tiny figure, no more than six inches tall, hovered just in front of me. Amber wings and skin glowed warmly, highlighting the soft, cream-colored dress she wore. When her wings fluttered, I heard the bells again.
She floated closer to me for a moment, almost too close to my face to see clearly, then clapped her hands and smiled at me joyously. A quick flit of her wings carried her away again, and she motioned for me to follow. When I didn't move at first, she hovered eagerly closer and further in that same direction.
I was shivering again when I took a step to follow.
Her smile vanished when she saw the shiver. It must have changed her mind about whatever she wanted to show me, because when she grabbed my hand she pulled me in a different direction.
She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny, floaty being. I almost lost my balance from the first tug. Not that it was a very strong tug, it was just unexpected for her size and how little her wings were moving. Her grip was tighter than I'd expected too. It was the same pressure on one finger as a person my size grabbing my entire hand.
The ground was pleasantly soft under my feet, the Christmas lights above me still following to light the way. The air was chilly, but not as cold as it had been outside my house. Part of me wanted to go explore the rest of the carnival, but the rest of me had no energy to resist the energetic tugs from my little fairy guide leading me away from the rides and games I had seen outlined against the night sky.
The string of lights we were following ended at a little gypsy wagon.
It was brightly painted, although the paint was obviously worn down from weather. Red sides were decorated with bright gold swirls and trim. The black roof appeared to be completely covered in tar, some patches less old than others, like it had been repaired a few too many times. The door was emerald green, and a flickering, kerosene lantern hung just above it.
My tiny guide let go of my hand and flew right up to the door as the flame in the lantern glowed brighter. After a moment of fussing, she got the door open and flew in without looking back. Then she flew out and grabbed my hand again, pulling me up the wagon's steps and through the door.
The Christmas lights went out, the kerosene lantern outside flickered cheerfully, and another lantern inside sputtered to life with equal cheer.
It was warmer inside the wagon than I'd expected.
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