Kaleidoscope

The flaps of the tent entrance at her back flew open and a young couple stumbled out. Wrapped up in each other’s arms and exploding with hysterics, they moved past the ten year old brown skinned girl and faded back into the sea of people that blanketed the grounds in front of the tent. They didn’t pay her much mind. Most people didn’t when there wasn’t a specific need to. Why would they? Especially when they had all the spectacles that the county fair provided to keep their attentions occupied. No. Nobody paid her much attention at all. Unfortunately she had been unable to return the favor.

Maria’s mother Annabel laid claim to the tent behind her and every so often a single passerby, a couple, or group of persons would wander inside in the hopes of having their fortunes told, receiving a tarot reading, or inquiring about any other such mystic services her mother could provide. Some took it to heart. Most thought it was a joke. Regardless, it provided enough of a distraction from the amusement park rides, concession stands, and novelty games to remain a viable addition to this carnival. Sometimes Maria came into play during her mother’s theatrics. The young child would occasionally be commissioned to guess ages, birthdays, weights. Her act was usually adorable enough to pull in a few stragglers on particularly slow nights. The only problem was that it wasn’t an act.

She’d been doing it for as far back as she could remember; looking into people’s minds, hearing their thoughts. It wasn’t until much later in life that she found out it wasn’t a normal ability to possess, a natural function that was present in everyone. Her mother had always told her it was a gift. Maria continued to remain indifferent to its presence. She had little care for the muddled mundane ramblings that she unwittingly sat in audience of. People were happy. People were sad. Bills were late. Motives were questioned. Resolutions were being made and undermined. What use did she have of such knowledge? Some gift. Maria would have much rather preferred a pony.

That option off the table now, she simply did as her mother told and aided her in her occupation whenever she asked.

Having spent the last twelve days in this town, she knew that their departure was immanent. Maria would welcome the break that the long trek to their next destination would provide.

She watched the crowd moving in front of her. She looked out at them. Listened to them when they weren’t speaking. The massive assembly of faces and feelings set against the night sky, neon lights, and festive music pulsating in the air just above their heads. An all too familiar scene that ran at tedium in her mind. She listened to the voices. He wished his brother was here. She contemplated possible names for the child she was expecting. He wished he had another job. She wished she could travel more. Her father just didn’t understand. He…

Well, he knew that he couldn’t be stopped.

What?

Maria blinked in shock. Her attention at its sharpest point now, she strained her mental ears to filter out the noise surrounding the horrific hysterics that she had inadvertently glossed over. It was a skill that she had been training herself to do in the hopes of filtering out all of the confusion for a clearer train of thought. It didn’t help much now. The mind she was attempting to zero in on was a conclave of confusion all unto itself. She was having trouble making heads or tails out of anything going on in there. She was even having trouble placing the voice to the body it occupied.

Stopped?

Stopped from what?

She had no idea, but whatever it was filled him with an ungodly amount of amusement. This man was fire. His mind was a molten mountain of enraged decadence, the likes of which she’d never felt before. The whole thing surged with a power much greater than her own and threatened to alleviate her of all sanity if she didn’t sever the connection soon. But she could not let go; his fury too intriguing, his intentions to dire.

Maria wanted…

No.

Needed to know more. But the voice was fading. Somewhere in the crowd just beyond her mother’s tent this tumultuous spirit was moving away from her. Maria had the disturbing urge to seek out the face to place with this voice. She needed to look at him for fear that her life would forever be one of unrest had she left this cackling voice of doom a faceless stranger in her mind. Ignoring her mother’s command to never stray from the tent, Maria was drawn one step at a time into the crowd and after this menace.