Under the wavering beam of my flashlight, strips of red and yellow flapped in the breeze from where something had shredded the abandoned carnival tent. I’d been here before. Every summer, my cousins would come to town and we would all pile into the rusted station wagon and make the two hour drive to the clearing in the woods, eager to see what new performance the traveling circus had put together.
I grabbed a fistful of the flap and pulled it open. I remembered the flap being heavier, but then I’d only been a kid the last time we were here. Dust choked the air, shining under the weak beam of light. I drew in a deep breath, and stepped into the tent. (more…)