"You're here!"
My voice was a whisper. The fairy's wings jingled softly in response, her smile widening with my own.
She fluttered around me, looking me up and down. Then she flew towards the wagon a bit, and back to me, a questioning look on her face.
"No, I'm not really tired tonight. I came to explore." I explained. "I wasn't really sure if I'd be able to come back. Is the carnival always here?"
The fairy looked at me thoughtfully. It only took her a moment to make up her mind apparently, and she grabbed my hand to pull me towards the rides.
"Ok, I'm coming!" I my face was starting to hurt from smiling so hard.
She lead me past a few old games, food stands, and questionable rides that had obviously been out in the weather for awhile. Some of them were folded closed and covered, some looked like someone had started to take them down and never finished. Others were standing as though they were already waiting for people to come ride them again. Whatever had happened, the last people here hadn't had time to finish shutting down properly.
All the way in the back of the carnival, there was a house. It seemed so out of place among all the temporary structures we'd walked past.
She lead me right to the front door, and waited.
Hesitantly I reached out and placed a hand on the doorknob as the porch light flickered on.
It was the same thing all of the other lights had been doing as I walked near them, but for some reason this particular light visibly excited my little guide.
I opened the door, and she darted in ahead of me, her glowing form almost disappearing in the darkness ahead of me. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the door, and the light moved from the porch to a ceiling light inside.
My guide was standing on a writing desk that was coated in dust, like the inside of the ticket booth had been. Hiding under that layer of dust was a leather-bound book with a tiny metal lock.
A gentle flutter of her wings emitted a tiny jingle.
Carefully, I dusted off the book, but still breathed enough dust to sneeze violently. That sneeze waisted all of my effort to be careful. The cloud of dust got in my nose, eyes, and even settled in my ears.
I blew my nose on the edge of my sweater and inspected the lock.
Instantly the fairy hopped down to open one of the drawers, revealing a key.
Resigning myself to the dust, I took the key and opened the lock.
The first page was titled "To Whom It May Concern; The Diary of Jensen Quinn, Groundskeeper and Caretaker of this Strange Place".
I looked up at the fairy, and she motioned for me to turn the page.
I did, only to find a few loose leaves tucked tightly before the first entry.
"To Whomever has found my little journal,
"I will begin this missive by saying I am sorry for whatever circumstance it is that has lead you to this mystic place. I do not presume to know you, rather I know this place. It does not show itself to those who have lead easy lives. I would like to continue by saying that if you are reading this, your life is likely about to improve.
"I say likely because it is entirely up to you.
"This place you have stumbled into, most likely by complete accident, is a safe place. I do not know how or why, but people who love to cause pain or cannot help harming others are not allowed to enter. Everyone you will ever meet on these grounds is like you; running away from places and people who make their souls heavy. My time here has been the best I could have hoped for. I have met so many kind hearts and beautiful minds. Some only pass through a few times. Many come back regularly, seeking solace from whatever life they are leading. A few chose to make this place their home for a little while.
"I was one of those people.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Jensen Nathaniel Quinn, and I was the last caretaker of these fairgrounds.
"For reasons you will find disclosed at the end of my journal I am taking my leave of this lovely place. My fairy friends have assured me that they will find a new caretaker when the time is right.
"You see, a caretaker is a key ingredient to the magic of the fair. Without one, anyone who wanders in will only see the rundown entertainments and rides, which by themselves can be rather ominous.
"Once there is a caretaker though, this place truly comes to life. I'm sure you have noticed the way the lights flicker on to light your way. Perhaps you've even found the item that likes you best. For me, the lights and music of the ring toss come alive whenever I set foot on the fair grounds.
"I've gotten ahead of myself. Let me explain that better.
"Everyone who enters can align with one of the many attractions here. For one, it may be a ride on which people can face their fears or indulge in a thrill. For another it might be the spun sugar stand, bringing a bit of sweetness into the lives of those who stop by. For me, it was the ring toss; a seemingly silly game of chance and skill for a hawker to advertise, a distraction to indulge in for the pure fun of it, or to gamble a bit of hope on.
"The attractions seem to have their own reasons for picking people out. With a little practice and discernment it can lead to great insights of the person bringing it to life.
"I would encourage the reader to explore the grounds and find the place they bring to life. If you are reading this, you have actually already found one! This house that you've found my journal in was my home. It only allows entry to those the fair would trust to take care of it and the people who will find it.
"I do not know exactly the how or the why, but that is the magic of it.
"My question for you, dear reader, is this; will you become the caretaker for this marvelous place? You can take your time in deciding, for the fair will always let you in now that you have found it. Even in hours when the entrance is not visible, simply stand in the location of the entrance and say 'The caretaker wishes to enter' and it will reveal itself to you. So take some time with this marvelous, magical fair, and get to know it better. And if you should choose to make this place your new home, you will have my thanks and that of many others yet to come.
"Sincerely,
"Jensen N. Quinn"
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