At first, it was fairly quiet. 

Then, with an unnatural buzz and a dusty crackle, the speakers piqued the interest of the carnival residents, prompting heads to turn up to face the megaphone horns perched atop high-reaching poles. Faint chimes sounded over the somewhat dated intercom, and then a few strums of a guitar began to play - the bouncing chords quickly joined by a distant drawl.

"Imagine a place

you can always escape to..."

The not unfamiliar, yet strange song seemed to fit unnaturally perfectly with the white noise of the carnival; the sluggish melody further added to the lull of the dry atmosphere. The background wails and pounds of the song mimicked and echoed those of the simple construction tools being put to use- last minute touch-ups were being made to the fairground's attractions before its opening day. 

As the song built in volume and intensity, so seemed to the spirits of the people it serenaded- voices called out with more urgency, more haste; leisurely steps became quick, each one falling with purpose. "Soon." Hisses and grumbles leaked from the mouths of the residents, informing each other of the upcoming date. "Soon!" Excitement mingled with worry; piano riffs expressed such feelings, rising and falling like the tide of the anxious air about the fenced-off plot. 

But as fast as the action had built, it had slowed- each man, woman, and freak returning to the steady, calm pace they had been in before.

The corner of the ticket vendor's lips curled up as she watched her fellow carnival residents work. People rushing here and there, materials floating in and out through the iron gates- everything passed her line of sight from her little ticket booth by the entrance. 

"Hey." A man of around her age popped up at the side of her booth window, startling her. 

She regained composure and made a silly face at him. "Where are you coming from? I noticed you leaving the grounds but didn't see you come back in," she explained the reason for her shock. 

"I went around and came through the mini-forest in back," the man chuckled. "You know, that fortune teller is doing some strange back there," he gestured behind him with a thumb over his shoulder. 

"Well, to each his own. Just like that customer who always comes to the mirror house," the ticket vendor replied, giving a cordial nod to one of the carnies that passed by before propping her elbow on the sill of the booth and resting a cheek on her palm. 

"I guess," her companion conceded. "I won't say anymore, since you already know what I think about it." He watched her for a moment, and then continued to speak. "I bet that game booth kid, the lazy one, would love to be you right now."

The ticket vendor blinked, then shifted her eyes away from the entrance and towards her friend. "How come?"

"You're doing nothing right now, you piece of sluggish ." The man grinned and poked the young woman's forehead playfully. His eyes carried a teasing, mischievous glint. 

"Wow, you really know how to woo a woman," the woman deadpanned, her gaze glazing over again. But then she sat up on her stool and looked at him suspiciously, albeit fighting the smile from spreading over her face. "You're not doing anything either." 

"Not true," the man said. "I'm flirting with a pretty lady. That counts as doing something," he winked, the side of his mouth turning up in one of those irresistable playboy smirks. 

The ticket vendor didn't fall for his line, however. "You must be so bored to be saying that right now." Uninterested, she put her attention back on the carnival's entrance. "If you really have nothing to do, you should do me a favor and buy me some cotton candy." She could already feel the salivation in ; her taste buds yearned for the taste of the sweet sugar. 

"Can't." The man outright refused, and continued to explain his current problematic situation. "She wouldn't give me anything - that vendor doesn't like me." He shook his head, short pieces of loose hair whipping to and fro. 

"Maybe it's a family issue," she suggested.

"What do you mean?" He pressed her to elaborate. 

"Didn't you know? She-" the woman abruptly stopped what she was saying and locked eyes with one of the workers re-entering the fairgrounds. "You were gone for a pretty long while," she commented breezily. The person she had called out to seemed to be surprised, and instead of replying, just shuffled off into the heart of the carnival. 

The male beside her nudged her shoulder with his arm. "The was that?"

"I just like to keep an eye out on everyone," she explained her motives. "I like to be organized." Running a hand through bushy locks of hair, she yawned- one walking by might have compared her to a lion, with smaller teeth and a darker mane. 

"Yeah, well your booth doesn't show it." He peered through the opening of the booth and pointed. The large, uncovered rectangular window revealed a messy inside, littered with ticket stubs and crumpled fliers.

The ticket vendor just shrugged. "To each his own," she repeated. 

"Just like that dude and his ed up freak ?" He challenged her, looking back in the direction the worker had gone. 

"Nice use of alliteration." 

"I speak the truth- there's something odd about him." He examined the ends of his fingers, removing dirt from underneath the nails. 

"There's something odd about all of us; we live in a carnival!" She giggled and gave him a look, her eyes b with amusement. 

"Him even more so, though." His pupils suddenly drifted away from his cuticles and towards the latest group walking by.  Dubious eyes scanned the rowdy crowd of carnival employees coming in through the gate, probably coming back from a bar outing. "They should still be getting ready - they think they're such s and deserve to party, but none of them are actually even close to finishing their booths; they're sloppy." The man clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. 

"And your tent is perfectly in order?" Her glassy orbs ran over each face quickly, then returned focus to the iron gate. She was only listening with half a mind; the other half was going over things that still needed to be prepared.

"I'm the absolute best here and you know it." He wasted no time in being modest. A proud smile drifted over his face as he leaned back against the front of the booth. 

"I'm not sure," she murmured, "that freak, the one that isn't too deformed- she's got skill." She tilted her head to read a sign that a couple of people were working together to carry in; it advertised all of the carnival's main attractions. 

"True. But I've got a talent that people actually enjoy watching." 

"True," she conceded. An air of agreement settled between the pair- at least until the ticket vendor decided to rattle her companion's nerves again. "But what about that new addition? The one with the tent across from yours?"

"Skill and passion is there, I'll admit, but definitely not perfection." He sort of harumphed before crossing his arms, flexing the well-defined muscles that were clearly visible due to his sleeveless shirt.  One of the female booth runners walked by, giggling and waving, so he gave her a little nod, accompanied by a flirty grin. 

"Okay. Since you're all done, and have finished ranking on your new neighbor," she raised an index finger and talked over her peer's incredulous protests, "why don't you help out the mechanics? They really could use an extra hand, especially with opening day so close." She pointed. "There's your buddy now." A worker dressed in a denim jumpsuit was carrying some seemingly heavy boards of wood. 

Getting off of his leaning position on the wall, the man stretched his arms in front of him before deciding to go. "Alright. See ya," he bid farewell, striding over to his mechanic friend and offering to do some of the heavy lifting. 

The ticket vendor was left alone again, sitting in her little wood and canvas booth by the entrance of the fairgrounds. Everything passed her line of sight, from various tools and materials to the people carrying them in and out of the iron gates - nothing rushed by unnoticed. 

"Soon," she heard some say. "Soon!" She heard them whisper with agitation, with dread, with excitement. "Let's go to the bar in town later and just leave this madness for a while," she heard a few members make plans. 

Yes, the carnival would be opening soon- and everything would change, one way or another.

The woman thought this as she popped another record into the player, positioning the intercom mic at the speaker so that the faint tune would be heard dripping out of the horns positioned on the poles reaching above the small tents of the grounds. 

Her pale slender finger pressed the button to play the record, and light beats began bouncing around, quickly accompanied by the strumming of a happy guitar. 

"Who's to say

what's impossible?..."

The corner of the ticket vendor's lips curled up once more as she watched her fellow carnival residents work. 

¢ The ticket vendor's note ¢

Yes, the ending was intentionally written to reference the beginning. I like motifs- deal with it LOL. Don't make fun of my cruddy titles, too- I'm absolutely terrible with them OTL.

Thanks for the continued support. c: