Daniel stood in the center of the midway and felt its beating heart.

"Step right up, gents! Step right up, ladies! That's right! Prepare to be astounded, confounded and utterly shocked beyond your wildest dreams!"

The carnival's pulse raced around Daniel, surging forward, parting around him like water in a cataract. He reached his long fingers into the jacket pocket of his suit and pulled out a silver cigarette case.

"Ten for one, folks! Ten wonders for the price of one. You won't believe your eyes once you've stepped inside!"

Daniel opened the case without looking at it. He was fixated on the world erupting around him, its energy rushing out in all directions, the colors erratic, the spectacles jostling and competing with one another. Jeweled bulbs strung along the tops of the tents illuminated the garishly painted banners advertising horrors and wonders, feats of inhuman strength and displays of savage humanity.

"I've got the Alligator Lady and the Lizard Man! I've got a Giant so tall he can barely fit inside the tent!"

Daniel took out a cigarette and snapped the case shut. He balanced the cigarette between his fingers and closed his eyes. Electricity was humming through the wires, sizzling along the length of the midway, encircling the towering Ferris Wheel, framing the game booths and crowning the ballooning big top tent like a ribbon cinching ever tighter and tighter. Daniel loved the sound of electricity. He loved the way it reverberated in the back of his throat.

"I've got a woman so fat she can't walk on her own, but she's got a voice like a canary and a complexion like a summer's day! You've never seen a prettier gal in all of Louisiana! Don't miss out on Jolly Marjorie!"

Daniel listened. Clicking, shuffling, screeching, laughing, stamping, scraping, fire igniting, oohing and ahhing, crying, hissing, bells tinkling, canvas flapping, clay bottles tumbling, clattering, plates shattering, ropes snapping, corn popping, crackling, metal banging, clanging and a thousand voices clamoring for a thousand wants and underneath it all, the ceaseless march of the whistling calliope.

"And don't forget, folks! When you're done with the Ten Wonders of the World, the marvels just keep on coming!"

Daniel kept his eyes closed. A fight between two men broke out next to him, but he didn't flinch. He was tasting the burnt sugar in the air. He was smelling the greasepaint and the sour perfume and the unwashed bodies.

"There's still so much more to see! We've got men who can lift a thousand pounds and swallow swords! We've got women who can charm snakes and see your future!"

Daniel fit the cigarette between his lips. He pulled out a box of matches and shook one out into his hand. He struck the head, smelled the sulfur and felt the heat glinting off his shiny fingernails. He touched the match to the end of his cigarette and drew breath.

"And don't forget, gents! If you go all the way around, you'll find the ladies dancing the Dance of the Seven Veils. And let me tell you, what a dance that is!"

He tossed the match into the trampled muck and took the cigarette in his fingers again. Daniel let the smoke seep from his lips and nostrils and then he opened his eyes. The midway was still dazzling. The people were still rushing around him and the Ferris Wheel cars were still climbing high up into the night. Daniel lifted his head. The stars were still there, too. Still glittering in the night like sparks.

But there was something else.

"Prepare to be amazed, folks!"

Something more.

"Prepare to be astonished!"

An undercurrent. A ripple. Scintillant, but always in shadow. Daniel blinked slowly. It was there, flickering at the edge of his awareness. Prowling around the corners. Tantalizing, yet unseen. Unknown. Hermetic, but beckoning all the same.

"And don't forget, my ladies and gents, at nine o'clock sharp, under the big top ..."

Daniel turned to the talker who had been yelling from the nearest bally. He cocked his head as he looked at the man, sweating on the small wooden stage, shaking his cane and his straw hat at the crowd of people flowing past.

"... you'll witness an acrobatic performance of daring, grace and beauty like nothing you've ever seen! Ever imagined!"

Daniel slowly shook his head. He had seen everything. He had imagined everything. Daniel had been lured to the midway in search of a distraction, driven by his all-consuming need to keep the boredom at bay. But this. A shiver darted through him. This was more than he ever could have hoped for: something new.

"Are you ready, folks? Are you ready for it tonight?"

Daniel put the cigarette back between his lips and grinned. Oh, he was ready all right. He was ready for the night. He was ready for the show to begin.

* * *

The geek crouched down in the long wet grass at the edge of the dirt yard and dangled his hands between his knees. He cocked his head and considered the tree in the sharp moonlight. It was tall, an oak tree, with scraggly leaves and roots sunk down deep into the earth, too deep to care about a summer's drought. Too deep to know that everything else in the yard had already withered and died. It reminded the geek of a tree he had once climbed as a boy, back in a place called Missouri, on a farm whose name was escaping him. He couldn't think. He couldn't remember. He could only see the tree, surrounded by a ring of child's playthings: a cracked teacup, a spade, a dirty cloth doll in a dishtowel dress. Tattered ribbons had been tied to the base of a swing.

In the shadows, the geek thought he saw the swing move, twist slightly, the ribbons flutter for an instant, but the air was still, eerily still, as if the curving moon was crushing the night into a stupor. A whippoorwill called through the dark early morning, echoing its own song, and the geek heard it, but did not hear it. He studied the swing. He picked up the rope at his side and ran it through his hands, counting out the lengths as his eyes climbed the height of the tree to the branch arching out over the yard. There was enough for the job. The geek leaned back on the heels of his thin-soled shoes and pushed himself to standing. His bad knee, dislocated once on the ball field and once on the stage as he slipped in the blood of the chickens whose heads he had just bitten off, popped, but the geek did not stop to shake his leg out. He could feel the presence behind him. Watching, waiting. Expecting. He could smell the cigarette smoke.

The geek stood beneath the tree branch and looked up. He judged. He moved over, closer to the swing, and tilted his head upward again, trying to focus on the branch that kept disappearing into the darkness. He tossed the rope. Missed. Tossed again. The knotted end came down and dangled in front of the geek. He caught it and pulled it through the loop, threading the rope carefully, quietly. He did not want one of the dark eyes of the house to blink awake. He yanked the rope taut, leaned back, testing the weight, and then began to coil. When he reached thirteen, he trimmed the excess with his pocket knife. He had always been meticulous. He liked to do things right.

The geek stepped up onto the narrow board of the swing and steadied himself. He couldn't remember why he was doing this. He could barely remember who he was or once had been. The only memory that was clear in his mind was that of meeting the man on the midway. The man in the suit with the smile. A smile that, somehow, had driven him...