Nostalgia

    I seem to have lost my head. Literally. But that’s not so important compared to the vital parts of the body I could have lost, like the heart, spleen, and gallbladder. No, that’s not really important at all.  What’s important is that I think I have lost my dog back at the circus.

    Ok, let me back up. The story was like this; I went to the park with my dog so we can enjoy the sights and smells. We go there every October morning to enjoy the atmosphere. The smell of caramel popcorn steaming inside a glass box, the very bold colors of pink and blue painted on cotton candy and on the faces of little children, the screams and laughs around us as people enjoyed their evening together. You might ask why I’m not involved in this myself; well let’s just say I’m still a little stuck in the land of nostalgia. It was especially special that night of all nights because it was the last day the circus would be open this year.

    Anyway, I was sitting on the bench relaxing in the view of the setting sun, watching as dying light is reflecting on the metal beams supporting the Ferris wheel when a strange woman with a long brown hair and black glasses approached me. I wanted to know what she wanted from me, but instead of answering, she sat in the bench next to me on the opposite end from where my dog was leashed.  It was eerie to say but I found her somewhat mildly comforting. Charlie didn’t seem to mind either; his head was still resting on his paws.

    After a brief pause the stranger introduced herself as a one Ms. Bardaol, the ring mistress of the circus. She wanted to know why I spent all my evenings in October here every year at almost the same spot. I told her I enjoyed watching other people having fun and having an occasional caramel apple. She was silent for a minute then she asked me if I liked the circus. I said I did, but I didn’t elaborate further. Ms. Bardaol then asked me if I wanted to accompany her on some of the sights the circus had before they left for the year.  Realizing that it would be the last time this year, I agreed.

      What can I say? The night was wonderful. We went to the house of mirrors, visited the numerous stalls that sold really delicious food that didn’t do so well with your cholesterol, walked on the actual circus arena and I watched as Ms. Bardaol explained to me her routine of launching herself in the cannon and landing on top of a pyramid made of four clowns. We ended the night long after all the visitors were gone by watching the clowns launching the left-over fireworks. It was truly a magical night.

      As Ms. Bardaol led me to the exit, she asked if I had a wonderful time. I vehemently answered without hesitation that it was the most magical experience of my life.  I told her it reminded me of my old circus days when I was a young clown enjoying the sights and sounds of my first home. She looked at me and she inquired in a quiet voice what did I mean about first home? She wanted to know if I was an orphan that had been abandoned at the circus. I told her yes it is true, but I asked her not to feel pity for me because I can safely saw that the best years of my life were in the circus.

      Ms. Bardaol then smiled a very sweet smile and asked if I wanted to re-live those experiences by joining the circus. I rebuked her and said I was too old to be prancing around in make-up or launching myself out of a cannon. I also added that I have a responsibility now; mortgages payments to make, a job to keep, taxes to pay. She then asked me if I truly wanted to live this adult life.  I started thinking. Then I laughed. I can’t believe what she was asking me. I told her that it’s perfectly clichéd of young boys and girls running away to join the circus but a fifty year old man?  She just smiled that sweet smile and said that anything was possible. She asked me if I was really just content living the remainder of my life paying taxes and watching the circus.
     
      That’s when I really started thinking. Was I really happy with all this? If I said no to her offer, what awaited me back home? A librarian job making barely above minimum wage, and bills upon bills that would probably be never paid even after I’ve been buried and in the meantime I would go home and heat up my frozen TV dinner (Fried Chicken Meal) and while away the remainder of the night in silence. Then I would go to work and do the same thing all over again. Was I truly happy with that life? Here stood before me was a new opportunity; an opportunity to re-live my old days where I was truly happy. No more taxes, lousy frozen dinners, boring jobs, and best of all no more of that unbearable silence in the night.  I can live the night with friends who also share my laughter and love for the circus life.

      So that’s what I said. I took her up on that deal and she led me to large tent. She asked me if my decision was final since there was no turning back. Like an idiot I didn’t think about what she meant with “no turning back” for I only heard circus music playing in my head and I grunted a barely audible yes. That’s when the little lady picked up a butcher knife and chopped my head off. Funny thing, I was still hearing circus music even when my vision faltered and blacked out.
When I came to, I realized amazingly that I was still alive. Even more amazing was that my body was sitting on a chair and I was looking at its severed neck. I just sat there for a long while and just stared at myself. Or what remained of me. That’s when I heard her voice telling me to turn around. I tried but in vain because necks don’t have any pushing muscle; it’s the shoulders that make us move and let me tell you, my shoulder was about a foot away from my body.

        I told her that I couldn’t. She told me not to be silly and tell my body to turn me around; and that’s what I did. I told it and it did. No that’s wrong. It was more like I willed it and it moved. No that’s even more wrong. I just moved. Weird you say? Not anymore for me anyway. I’ve been doing this job for nearly a year now and I just got use to it.

      Ms. Bardaol explained the whole situation to me. She told me that this circus was special in that it was entirely run by the undead. The undead run it because they too were like me; they had lived the circus life and didn’t want to really let it go even after the grave. They couldn’t move on to the great big pearly gates in the sky until they grew bored of the circus. They were exactly like me, having been more alive in the circus than in any other part of their lives. Including death. 
I was shocked to say the least (wouldn’t you?) I demanded that she let me free, that this was against all laws and she should be hanged for doing this. She just smiled and said that she was not holding anybody against their will; anytime anybody wanted to leave the circus life they can head back to their graves. Besides she asked me, I had made my choice and had agreed to this. Unfortunately they were full on clowns, trapeze artists and stall runners, but they could always use more freaks.

      So that’s that officers. You wanted to know. I had worked in the wonderful company of Ms. Bardaol for nearly a year now and I don’t regret any second of it. Now can we get to the reason why I called you here? You see, it’s been a year since the circus has been back to this part of town. It’s also been a year since I last saw my dog Charlie. Now I know this doesn’t exactly fit your job description, but I really have no other choice. For the interest of public welfare I can’t leave the circus grounds or half the town will be screaming bloody hell of zombie invasions. Believe me though, we come in peace and we don’t eat brains. So anyway, I know that you are really quite busy but can I ask you keep a lookout on the local shelters for me for any sign of Charlie?