An Introduction to the Carnival of Souls
The year was 2001, and the Tuesday Night Gaming Group was still in full swing, consisting of Mr. James, myself, the Good Doctor, Squatch, and VC, among others. One night, Doc broached us with an idea, a kind of writing exercise/free-form roleplay using the new “community journal” feature on LiveJournal. We’d each make a vaguely White Wolf-based character, who would be a Carny in a magic Carnival, and we’d each run an attraction. The idea was that this Carnival would go wherever and whenever it needed to go, and customers would come to it to possibly win “salvation” or “redemption” by going through our attractions. Each attraction would offer a different challenge, teach a person something new and/or important about themselves.
We all agreed that this sounded like a great idea, lots of fun, and so forth. We each made up characters, based loosely on our real selves, and attractions, and got to work writing. Jim invented Mr. James, the cold-hearted gambler who ran the Games of Chance. I invented Bloody Mary Black, the rage-filled werewolf who ran the Freak Show. My ex-husband came up with Dante Avatar, who ran Dante’s Divine Gallery, the caricature tent. Clay invented Violent Clay, the undead clown, the unstoppable killing machine who followed only Dr. Celestine’s orders. GA, of course, was Dr. Celestine.
We worked on the Carnival for over a year, completing two story arcs, and then we drifted away from it. The thing, though, was that no matter how busy we got, or what kind of drama got stirred up in our real lives, or what jobs we had . . . utterly regardless of real life, the Carnival of Souls never seemed to drift very far away from us. It had taken on a life of its own, almost independent of us, a reality of its own, Tuesday Night Gamers need not apply.
GA moved away to Ohio, and we almost never saw him. I got married, got busy, hardly ever got to talk to anyone outside the gaming session. Clay got married, Jim got divorced, people dropped out of the session and joined, I got divorced, Jim moved to Oregon . . . and none of it mattered. Any time we were all together, conversation inevitably turned to the Carnival, even years later, even after no one had written in the damn thing in five years. The Carnival had its own magic, and something about it had seized our minds. We just couldn’t shake it loose.
The show must go on. The Carnival meant to go on, even if she had to drag us back kicking and screaming, woken in the night in chilly sweats dreaming of the characters, even thousands of miles away and half a decade later. The show must go on.
Five years after we last set fingers to keyboards to write for the Carnival (although a new face, Skippy, had written a short Carnival story in the mean time), I checked the Carnival on a whim one day and discovered Jim had started writing there again. It was like blowing on the coals. The Carnival flamed to life, and here we all are again, different people, better writers, and ready for the stage lights to come up in the Big Top again. As I type this, Carnival novels are being penned by the Good Doctor himself, and the Carnival has infiltrated my other fictions. I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one afflicted with that, either. So, let these pages serve as an archive for the Carnival, a starting spot for new readers, and a reference for old friends.
The following “letters” and “introduction” were written by Dr. Celestine, AKA GA Taggett, back in January of 2001. Copyright 01-08-2001, all rights reserved to him.
Introduction
Come one, come all! I invite you by name and by face to attend Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls!
Play the games of the always challenging Mr. James — you never know what you can win. You’ll never miss that which you lose. And you’re always guaranteed a gamble you’ll never forget.
Witness the inhuman grotesques of the world in Bloody Mary’s Freak Show! How could they exist? Can nature endure such tragic existences? Dare you turn away?
Hear the wisdom and insight from the marvelous Lady Ambrosia! The cards never lie. What does your future hold? What does your past contain? All shall be revealed!
Watch the colorful, clowning antics of the unstoppable Violent Clay. Careful — that knife is sharp! Look, it has even cut the clown, himself, yet his juggling never stops!
Observe the contortions of grandeur of the insatiable Arianna! How can the human form be twisted so? Her flexibility and agility will tell a tale of it’s own.
Marvel at the displays of artwork in Dante’s Divine Gallery! Beauty and symmetry — his artistic flair will bring out the true you.
Face the terrors and delights of Madam Dana’s House of Horrors! What’s that creature there!? Ah, it was just your own reflection! Or was it?
You may have rides that are too challenging for the kiddies, so send them to Lady Stacybug’s Playland! They’re guaranteed to learn something and may even be a little more manageable when you get them back.
See the gyrations and dances of the lovely Lady Gypsy Faecat! Playful and child-like, yet tantalizing and sensual! What lies beneath the bells and drapes of her dance?
Tickets available with Dav The Official Ticket Mastyr! The price is not an issue. Just bring a friend. And he always knows just where to send you first.
You there! Mr. Johnson! That gentleman needs directions. That boy needs a lift onto that ride. He’s always there with a helpful hand. And old Mr. K… always keeping the place clean. What’s that? Another lost article? Keep it safe, my friend . . . one never knows what meaning it has. And that gentleman? The one in the hat? Stephan The Ringmaster of course! His Big Top Shows are the best in the world, and he keeps the center ring always busy.
And the gentleman sitting alone in his trailer polishing his bottles . . . The Good Doctor Celestine. Oh, you’ll catch him wandering, cane in hand, quick with a smile and a kind word. Happy. Happy to see you there. Happy because he is among his people. Happy at the smells. Happy at the sights.
Happy to be short one more jar.
It’s the grand prize.
I hope you can afford it.
Letters of Reference
From the Desk of Dr. Grayson A. Celestine:
This is a letter of reference toward a wonderful person in my employ by the name of Violent Clay, my favorite and most focused clown in the carnival. You must understand, however, that not all circus duties are pleasant. There are tents to be raised and lowered, animals to be tended, dung to be shoveled, stands to be erected and cared for and maintained… much hard work. The work I offered to Violent Clay is not unlike the rest. Dirty work.I remember a lovely Thursday evening in June, just before dusk. I was walking through the carnival grounds, enjoying the sights. I heard a man yell. I heard his wife’s cautioning of him. I heard him growl. I heard the sound of his hand falling. I heard his son’s cry. I turned to observe and watched as another youth was wasted in the hands of an abusive alcoholic. ‘Sight’ comes in many ways. It is around people like this that ‘sight’ makes me ill. I asked the man to please respect my wishes, as proprietor, and cease his actions or leave. He scowled at his son, (the image of his impending beating burning in my ‘sight’) and grabbed him fiercely by the arm to leave. I reached into the pocket of my vest, wrapped my fingers around a small glass pill jar and waited. I can only imagine how shocked people were to see the clown stop suddenly and turn to run to me. He stared at the man, woman and child leaving. When they were out of sight I turned, walking away and commanded Violent Clay.
“Fetch.”
He shot from his stance across the midway and into a field. Unfortunately, we were short one clown that night in the big top, but I remind you that this is not a slight on his attendance but rather a shining example of his dedication and his attention to detail in his work.
The next day I received another Mason Jar to add to my collection. The Mother and child received a surprise gift of ‘sorrow’ in the form of $250,000 cash at the funeral. Violent Clay received what he always does . . . a little bit of happiness. Judge me if you will. I care not. Nor does he. He is the gun on my hip. The knife at my side.
The clown in my carnival.
Included in this letter of recommendation are 25 tickets to the Carnival for your staff. I do hope, dear Sir, you allow them to take a day off and attend. They have been overworked as of late, especially with all those investigators around the office. I’m sure that the source of the wrongdoing will come to light . . . it always does. As for you, I have arranged for a private home demonstration of Violent Clay’s very special talents.
Pleasant dreams.
Dr. Grayson A. Celestine
Owner and Proprietor
Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls
From the Desk of Dr. Garthim A. Celestine:
This is a letter of accommodation reflecting the authority and power of attorney of Dante Avatar. He will be handling any and all preparations toward the carnival’s arrival in your beautiful region.
As far as his Management experiences go I provide anonymity for people in my employ for any work they did before they came to me is inconsequential. I do, however, give my utmost support of his abilities. I do not feel the Carnival could run without each of the wonderful persons in my employ. Dante is no exception.
Allow me to elucidate.
His experience with dealing with the arrangements for my Carnival’s arrival comes from his unique abilities at knowing the depths of a person. All at a glance. That is not so unique, as many of my employees find this to be an ability of their own . . . but Dante puts it on paper. And he does so very well. The root of a problem is where the problem must be dealt with, and Dante likes to dig. What makes this easier is the team that he employs in his aid. You would find them hard to talk to, as I call his team “The Whisperers.”
The whispers we all try to hear everyday within meetings, at work, at social functions, etc . . . these are nothing. Dante knows what whisperers to listen to and what whispers to hear. They are a chorus only he is privy to. These whispers are from friends and family who had secrets only you and they knew. And now . . . now they have a listening ear. So please, I implore you . . . be honest when making arrangements with my most trusted Dante.
Included with this letter are some sketches Dante felt ‘compelled’ to work on before approaching you. They are separated by city councilperson’s name. I’m sure you’ll find that yours is most interesting. He seems to have captured your wife’s profile quite elegantly. The other gentleman in the picture will be in attendance at the Carnival as well and I invite you to attend with your wife so that we can resolve this . . . “Situation.” Violent Clay will be on hand if necessary.
Pleasant dreams.
Dr. Garthim A. Celestine
Owner and Proprietor
Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls
From the Desk of Dr. Gaberial A. Celestine:
I am happy to respond to your letter of inquiry toward one “Bloody Mary” in my employ.I can assure you that her intention toward your client was nothing more than to fulfill her duties as I have outlined them in her job description. A copy of this job description can be acquired from me at any time.
I invite you to come and do so at my expense, of course. Your ticket is included in this correspondence.
You’ll notice that your tickets include a trip to Bloody Mary’s Freak Show. A marvelous compilation of oddities that will shock and amaze. Perhaps even enlighten.
You see, “Mary” has a lovely perspective. She understands the freaks of society. Even in their subtlest forms. Her vision and dedication toward displaying these oddities is only matched by her care of them. She is a perfect caretaker for these ‘people.’
Upon your visit I encourage you to please ask about our internship program. We could always use another willing employee. You might be interested in the retirement program.
Also a visit to my personal “lost and found” may be in order. According to Bloody Mary your client left behind some minor possession that I have stored very carefully within glass.
By the way, how are your efforts toward quitting smoking coming? I understand that “habits” are hard to break. Smoking is the least of which, but let us be kind in these paper conferences. If there is any help either Bloody Mary or myself can be . . . do not hesitate to ask.
Pleasant dreams.
Dr. Gaberial A. Celestine
Owner and Proprietor
Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls
From the Desk of Dr. Gustov A. Celestine:
Dear SIR,
Forgive me for my lack of communiqué, but as YOU well know I have not been myself lately. Thank you for the “time-out” that was enforced upon me, it has done wonders for my attitude.
Although my next decision may make you question that.
I have taken under my care the “fallen” that we now call Aurian. She was a formidable agent in YOUR employ and although YOU were quite clear in YOUR edict she has no desire to ally herself with the former Morningstar. A wise career move, I think YOU shall agree.
Salvation is what we are selling and as long as we fall under YOUR grace we appreciate not being wiped off the face of reality.
Damn . . . apparently the attitude is still active.
Well, we’re not all perfect.
But we can try.
Thanks for listening, SIR.
See you soon.
Dr. Gustov A. Celestine
Owner and Proprietor
Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls
From the quill of Gameson Du Celestine
Hail and greetings to thee, Seignior Francois DeRichard.
It is my sincerest hopes that this letter finds thee well. It has come to my attention that thy child Anya’s choice to join with us in the Carnival is a choice ill-decided in thine eyes. Let not the recent dangers of the terrible accident in London fill thy frail heart with fear. None were lost in the fire.
Save our physical artiste of contortionism.
I can assure thee, honored sir, that her decision to replace him was not one made lightly, nor was my acceptance of it. Thy brood is a healthy one and full of strange and Byzantine talents. That thy child should choose to share her considerable flexibility and grace to the audiences of the world should be considered brave and avant-guard.
Man’s complexity can best be described in his physical nature. A tall bearing can be twisted and contorted into shapes of pain and duress. Thy daughter’s desire to share this expressionism is not a bane of her lust. Nay, it is a symbol of her exhibitionism and freedom.
Thine child has chosen to display these performances under the name Arianna, lest thy family suffer any shame from her. This troubled me, at first, but her eyes spoke in a voice not unheeded. Volumes of memory and pain not akin to one so young shown within. Thy issue bears a heavy heart. Methinks a ‘gift’ from her father.
Perhaps a familiarity with our establishment is just what thy heavy heart doth need.
It has done wonders with hers.
Thee and thine shall be welcomed with pomp and circumstance at our next visit to thy hamlet. In particular I would have thee speak with myself personally. The Lady Ambrosia has many a sight to share and I feel that these sights may be shown to thee better through the eyes of a fellow father.
May your home be filled with light and laughter and all thy children bear the mark of greatness your daughter Anya has shown.
A greatness well deserved.
Adieu
Gameson Du Celestine
August 1666
Ever been hit I the head with an aluminum baseball bat? An interesting experience, I highly recommend it. It clears out your jumbled thoughts and brings you into immediate focus of one vital and important fact.Pain.
The trick is to find the reason for that pain. Is it the bat? Is it the wielder?
Think on that.
I was standing in front of my collection of Jars, trying to decide which one to talk to that night, and that’s when it hit me.
Not an aluminum baseball bat… but realization.
James needed me.
Stay with me here.
I grabbed my vest and slipped it on, unrolling and buttoning the sleeves on my shirt and walked to James’ booth. Jacob and “Spooner” were working the crowds quite well. They looked up and I smiled and asked for James’ keys. They laughed and tossed them to me reminding me to take bail money. I nodded and told them to make more. Walking toward my trailer again I patted the pocket of the vest and by the time I had had come out with my newly typed letter and my cane in hand, Violent Clay was waiting outside my door. I smiled and nodded at him, tossing him the keys.
“The Car.”
He barely waited for the “a” sound in car. He diligently ran to the parking lot and started up “Molly.” A brown, 1986 Chevy Impala with a cream vinyl hard top, some interesting rust stains on the trunk and more than a few dings on her. I heard her lovely rumble as he pulled her around to my trailer. I trailed my finger across her hood as I walked in front of her, stopping to rap my knuckles on her right headlight to get it working again before I got in on the passenger side.
I love that car.
Someday, I’ll have to play James a game for her to win her back.
We arrived at the jailhouse and I went to speak with the booking officer. Terry was his name. Nice man. Does a good job. I actually had to work at getting in.
I carried on as thought the show was going on right there in the station.
Everybody loves a circus.
Sometimes even a carnival.
I took my letter out and handed it to them to give to the D.A. and explained that he should receive it as soon as he got in that morning at his office. Terry smiled, took the letter, and accepted the complimentary tickets I offered. His son will love the house of horrors. I reminded myself to inform Dana of his imminent arrival.
The letter read thusly:
From the desk of Dr. Gulliard A. Celestine:
To: D.A. Michael Ironhouse
Hey Mike!
I have posted bail for my friend and employee Mr. James. It is my understanding that he has been accused of some wrongdoing. This is preposterous, I assure you. The evidence here is highly circumstantial and speaks of a hint of conspiracy. I find the likelihood of James’ involvement in any sort of misconduct and wrongdoing to be highly unlikely and have agreed to this; I will take him back and you will fix all of this. You know how he does things and this is not his style.
Jailing Mr. James is completely unnecessary. Due to the circumstances surrounding this event, I will not have him press charges for wrongful imprisonment. I assure you that should this go to trial it will only result in a dismissal of charges with a possible contempt of court charge from my outrage ending only in community service. Most likely, cleaning up trash.
But then, I contest that it is that very reason that he is here.
As far as Mr. James’ character, as you well know, I will always speak very highly of him and his excellent skills. Mr. James is in a position of honor and leadership and responsibility in my Carnival. I remember the first day he came to work at my booths. As should you.
Enjoy the free tickets to the Carnival Mike, I’ll see you soon.
Love to the wife and kids,
Doc
When I first met Mr. James he seemed smug and superior at first, but I found that those faults were in myself. He was doing well, winning and losing at the gambling tents and being a good sport in either case.
I had been walking past the booths with Mr. Ironside, discussing Violent Clay (Mike can be such a stickler about violence) when another member in my employ informed me that a gentleman was consistently breaking even all night. This is highly unusual as one either wins or loses big at gambling. And never is there a consistency of that nature. I sauntered over and smiled at the gentleman saying I hope his luck was going well. He smiled and nodded, and without turning to look at the table he placed a large pile of coins randomly and told me it was about to get better.
He won.
I had never seen anything like it. I suppose that is why he made his next wager. I didn’t see it coming. He bet me that he could knock a toothpick out of my mouth with an aluminum baseball bat and not even graze me. If he lost, he would come work for me. If he won, I would give him something of importance to me. I wagered my car.
Quite a crowd had gathered to watch this and this was acceptable. What is a carnival without a show? I removed my jacket, placed the toothpick in my mouth and waited. “Spooner”, an employee in the booth, had run to my clown, Violent Clay’s area for the bat. Mr James sized up the shot… took a couple slow aims… reared back…
…and blasted me right in the face with an aluminum baseball bat knocking me out cold.
When I came to he was being restrained by Violent Clay. It looked to be an uncomfortable position. Several employees were gathered around with malice in their eyes, but I merely raised my hand and the noise stopped. Standing, I waved off Violent Clay. I smiled, handed James the keys to my car and put my arm around him. Mike looked after us and said; “Doc… he lost.” I laughed and shook my head.
“Oh no, Mr. Ironhouse… he has most decidedly won.”
In gambling one must know when one is trying to win… and when one is trying to lose. Mr. James got what he wanted. A job at my carnival. And I got what I needed.
A lesson.
Is it the bat? Is it the wielder?
Or is it you?
Think on that.
Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls (c) 1999 - 2008.
Characters, the distinctive likenesses thereof, and all related indicia are trademarks of G. A. Taggett. The stories, characters, and incidents in this work are entirely fictional, unless otherwise specified or noted. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No portion of this work may be reproduced without the express written permission of the creator.
(Photo credit: The Big Top picture slapped together in Photoshop from this and a picture of a midway at night I’ve had sitting on my hard drive for about a million years. “Demotivational” posters of the Carnies were put together by MrJames, and I know not where he found the original pictures.)
