Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood, The Last Unicorn or Something Wicked This Way Comes…much as I'd like to. No infringement intended….
Rated M for safety. Some swearing, also some sexual scenes later.
Something Torchwood This Way Comes…
This story is inspired by three things ~ The Night Travellers from the Torchwood episode "From Out of the Rain", Mommy Fortuna's Midnight Carnival ("Creatures of night, brought to light…") from The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle, and the book (and film) Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury. I love the old fashioned fairground, the music from the steam organs, the traction engines driving the rides, the lights, the darkness, the smoke. There is something enticingly dangerous, something freakish, something wierd and wicked… Implications of decadence, guilty pleasure and gothic horror lurking in the shadows. Mirror mazes, bearded ladies, freaks and calliopes.
Expect fear, horror, magic and nightmares. This is a ride with a difference…
Suggested music tracks to read this by – The Lost Boys soundtrack, particularly the fairground organ music "To the Shock of Miss Louise" by Thomas Newman and "Cry Little Sister" by Gerard McMann, also Madam Giry's Tale/The Fairground from Phantom of the Opera. Any fairground organ music works.
Here's a little bit of trivia for you ~ did you know that American fairground carousels go the opposite way round to British ones? This is something I learned only recently. Carousels run clockwise in the United Kingdom, the opposite of all American ones and most world wide. A British outer horse's left side faces out, and therefore is the more elaborate, or "romance," view.
It arrived by night…
It comes in the dark, answering the collective decadence of human dreams on hot summer nights. Down through the ages is has been drawn to the darker side of human nature, for that is where it feeds. It preys on the angst created by lies, deceit and guilt. It breathes the steam of the traction engines, basks in the bright garish lights, the brash brass of the gilded wooden carvings and the richness of the tasteless colours. Hedonistic and shameless, it revels sensuously in the organ music and drifts through the shadows, hinting at indecent delights of a forbidden nature. It revels in sinful magic, erotic dreams and dark desires…
"Rift spike" Tosh warned, eyeing the monitor "Near Druidstone Road, I'm sending the co-ordinates to the SUV now"
Jack looked across at her "Right, what do we know?"
"No clear readings yet" she confirmed "Sorry, nothing to go on."
One minute the field was calm, dewy grass under a clear summer sky, unkempt trees straggling along its edge. The next it was home to an unruly collection of wagons, traction engines, carts and caravans. Nobody saw them arrive. Nobody saw them as they emerged from their homes, blinking sleep from their eyes, yawning and moving about to unpack bags, boxes and cabin trunks. Coal was shovelled, boilers were stoked, lights flickered, steam began to escape from stacks and valves. Music threaded through the crisp air of early morning, rides were unpacked, bolted together like so many disparate jigsaws.
Tea cups and roosters, tigers, lions, pigs and cats inhabited the merry-go-rounds and, of course, garishly coloured horses outnumbered everything else. One carousel dominated the rest, the largest, four-abreast horse carousel of all. Captain Jack's Amazing Galloping Horses took pride of place in the forefront of the fair, black horses decked in silver harness, burgundy horses decked in gold, sapphire blue eyes winking in the lights above. Each horse had a name, gilded lettering on a painted ribbon on each glossy neck ~ "Jack", "Tommy", "Grey", "Rose"... Each horse was still, silent, waiting.
The SUV hammered through the suburbs of Cardiff, shooting a red light. This late nobody was around to mind but there would probably be another traffic offence for Ianto to cover up tomorrow. They sped down Druidstone road with Tosh's voice in their ears guiding them to where the co-ordinates mapped the anomaly. As they drew nearer, Gwen spied the lights on the other side of the hedge.
"Hey, what have we here?" she frowned "a Fairground? A bit out of the way, isn't it?""
Jack slowed as they drove past and craned his neck to look. "Since when? I don't remember there ever being a fair held on this field."
"Probably a farmer diversifying" Ianto offered, trying to get a better look. Ahead, a gap in the hedge proclaimed 'car park' with an arrow.
"Its around there somewhere." Tosh was saying "You're almost on top of it."
"So, let's go look. Sounds like its somewhere here anyway." Gwen said.
Jack indicated and turned off the road and was met by a grinning clown who pointed to where several other vehicles were parked. Most of them were of a vintage variety.
He pulled up beside a rather nice sporty Morgan, its red paint gleaming in the lights. It sat incongrously between a Morris Minor Traveller and a Ford Cortina. The Entrance was up ahead of them, a wooden archway proudly proclaiming Feeny's Midnight Dreams Travelling Show. Jack frowned, that name was familiar.
"Good evenin', Lady and Gentlemen" said the costumed ticket girl. She was wearing all the trimmings of a 'Hurdy Gurdy Gal' from the fishnet stockings, buttoned up Victorian style boots, a tightly laced red corset with its skirt of gossamer tulle and feathers, plenty of feathers. The corset gave her a distinct 'shelf' that Owen was looking at rather admiringly and Jack was remembering something to go by his face. Ianto nudged him out of his reverie.
"Just the four of you love, that'll be…" she paused "…five pounds each"
Owen opened his mouth to protest but Jack brought out his wallet and paid without question. The girl issued them with four tickets, gilt edged and decorated with scrolled lettering. "Everything is free inside" she said and moved away to let them in.
"Admit one to the wonders of Feeny's Electric Palace and Midnight Dreams Travelling Show" Ianto read out loud. "This is a bit retro, isn't it?"
They walked through the archway.
Back at the Hub, Tosh was having problems of her own. "Jack? Owen?" she began to sound frantic "Anybody!" but there was no reply.
In front of them sat the biggest fairground horse carousel any of them had ever seen. It boasted black horses and burgundy ones, their manes and tails either gold or silver, mounted on barley sugar twist poles. As they watched it began to turn, slowly at first, then faster, whirling round, the horses a blur.
"I remember riding on one of them when I was little" Gwen said "A fair came to the playing field near where we lived. Mum wouldn't let me go alone, so we all ended up going, mum, dad, my sister. I wanted to ride the carousel with the horses. Mum was terrified I would fall off. I begged and pleaded and eventually she came with me, only I insisted I ride a horse on my own. I didn't want her sitting behind me. I loved it. I was riding a horse."
"You were riding a wooden monstrosity" Owen insisted.
"I was six Owen, I was a little girl and I loved ponies!" Gwen said indignantly.
They watched as mimes and clowns cavorted past, jugglers and fire breathers following in their wake. They disappeared into the striped circus tent across the far side of the field.
They walked past sidestalls and games, garishly coloured and striped, prizes hanging at each side. As they passed, they heard some men talking what sounded like gibberish.
"Its not gibberish" Jack said to Owen's comment "Its Parlyaree"
"Parley-a-what?"
"Parleyaree" Jack said "It's the Showman's speech, a mix of Romany, Yiddish, Thieves Cant, sailor slang, back slang, all sorts"
"I thought Thieves Cant was just fantasy." Gwen said sagely.
"Nope, it did exist, largely to screw over the police and anyone else taking an interest where they shouldn't" Jack went on "It was thought to have originated in the 1500s, AD that is, but no one is very sure."
"ROLL UP, ROLL UP! TRY YOUR SHARP SHOOTING SKILLS! GENTLEMEN, TRY YOUR LUCK FOR THE LADIES, THREE SHOTS FOR A POUND, HIT THE TARGET TO WIN!"
"Sorry, can't resist" Jack said and wandered over.
"You Sir, yes, the fine gentleman in the coat, try your luck Sir?" he offered a rifle.
Jack smirked and paid up, taking the gun and shouldering it. He loosed off a shot, altered his stance a little, shot again, then again in quick succession.
"Third time lucky Sir!" the man handed something over and Jack grinned and handed it to Gwen who giggled and hugged it. It was a soft toy tiger made of velvet.
"Well done Jack" she said.
"Yeah, you gotta know the tricks." he murmured "Sights filed down, designed to throw you off unless you're wise to it."
A group of midgets ran across in front of them, pulling a gilded carriage with another midget in it, a woman. The board on the back of the wagon proclaimed "Annie, the Living Doll". She smiled coquettishly and twirled her parasol. She was wearing garments similar to the girl who had taken their money on the gate. On a little person, it looked vaguely grotesque. Jack bowed as she passed, to which she regally inclined her head and hid behind a fluttering fan. However, the fan caught his eye, the way she was holding it, partially folded and angled. Jack frowned. In another time and place that would have meant something, something slightly disturbing. She would have clearly been telling him to leave, leave and don't come back.
A man dressed in shining green satin waked past, a turban on his head, his body draped with three large snakes, the snakes hissing and twining about his hands, neck and waist. A pair of glossy black horses pranced past, red and gold leather trappings decorated with bells and feathers, lead by a doe-eyed girl who smiled at Owen. They passed booths advertising the bearded lady (too much testosterone according to Owen) and the unicorn (probably a goat with a horn stuck on its head, again Owen's opinion), one advertising the man who couldn't die and another showing a picture of a knife throwing act with a girl dressed as a Native American woman, complete with deerskin dress and feathers.
Jack stopped and went back, looking hard at the poster of the Man Who Couldn't Die. He frowned and came back, looking slightly disturbed.
"What's wrong?" Ianto asked.
"Nothing, just thought that act sounded familiar."
"And, was it?"
"No, I didn't recognise it" they walked on.
They came back to the carousel near the gate. It was stationary now, waiting.
"Hey" Owen said "Look at this?" and he pointed to the horses. "This one's called Jack and this one's Ianto. Gwen, there's yours and…" his voice trailed away.
"Oh my God" Gwen said, looking at them. All the names were somebody they knew, somebody they had come into direct contact with.
"Something funny is going on here" She said and thumbed her comm link "Tosh? Tosh, come in? Tosh? Where are you?" she looked at the rest of them "Now what?"
"Not sure" Jack admitted.
"But I don't think we're in Kansas any more" Ianto muttered.
So where are they? Find out in the next instalment.
Did you like this? Please review...I'm just indulging my liking for the gothic with this one.