Glazed in Fire

It doesn't matter where you go. They say it's a small world, but surely no one intended it to be this small. On roofs, at the bus stop, at restaurants, the soup kitchen, the general stores, Paul Neuman knew it was a joke. It was a cruel fever dream, some sort of hallucination. Those clowns were after him. He knew he could not get away from them, and yet he was drawn to the light of the moon. He dare not go back to the complex to rest, his insides squirmed, holing himself up and curling up on his bed didn't solve anything. The faster he learned, the faster he could return home. It didn't matter that father cut him off for being so lazy, but he really needed this experience. Yet his curiosity betrayed him, the lightness out of his step, he could not dottle around the carnival lest he be lost in its zone null of time.

Truly there was no place to go that the clowns weren't. The joke had gone on long enough. When he finally decided to return to the carnival to improve his sanity, he had not gotten half way through the ticket before he saw audacious woman, a nun he could have recognized anywhere, with clinging to a clown. Paul Neuman couldn't comprehend it. Blocks away on his Jaguar, a tire popped audible for blocks around. Sick joke. A nun with clown. It almost made him grin, a punchline that escaped him, or rather he escaped it. As the fire blazed from the food stand he could barely pay it attention, his fever was hot enough to be in an oven already. The grease fire was reflecting off his eyes with a shimmer that the moonlight paled in comparison, yet his charisma only seemed to take alight, these were not the eyes of a madman, but a changing man.

Nuns were profane. Clowns are everywhere. Paul Neuman smiled, but he was not amused.

The Beast Within

The chill never left. Rather the core seemed hot as the core of a star coated in a chill of ice covering it. This feeling must be what occurred long ago before time. When the Earth was young and the Ice Age dawned on the very volcanic awakening of a new world. The new world gave way to Ice coating the ball like a blanket holding back something unrefined.

Paul Neuman's core made him feel sick, made him feel dirty. He took on an illness through the seasons and could not go back to the doctor that filled him with the uneasiness. His fever made him forget that what exactly occurred. He could only recall his features. Paul Neuman could only remember his head poking out of the door in a protective manner, not to insinuate he waited for harm, but for trouble. His mannerisms definitely showed something in his tired expression. Dr. Gallagher more than warmly received him, but his words couldn't be recounted, his actions spoke louder. Paul Neuman could try to go back, but if he were to find that the doctor really was not what Paul Neuman thought he was then it might shake him to his core.

Paul Neuman also couldn't recall why his fever made him want to leave the complex. Maybe he wanted to see if anyone took his Jaguar or even looked at it. Nothing. The keys still curled up on the hood, but the winter days were not kind. Paul was just about to go back up to take a short cat nap when he heard something awful. Awful, but curious. He walked on and on down the street. He came upon the carnival and it overwhelmed him, this would be a perfect time to observe what people like at the carnival, what they buy.

It wasn't until night that Paul Neuman could not take anymore. He couldn't believe he groomed himself as best he could before he entered. This was not the business opportunity he thought it would be. The prizes could did not seem to be of any worth, it seemed as if they could be more plausible meals than the actual concession stand sold. Still he felt caged. He took all night to find an exit, surely his tracking skills dimmed as he could have sworn he marked his exits because of the immediate disgust he felt as he entered. If Paul Neuman learned anything it was how a carnival so scrapped up could still make money. Had it not been his keen sense of vision at night he wouldn't have escaped.

If it weren't for the clowns. Maybe he could rest his mind.