It had been a long week at sea, and I could hardly contain my excitement. At the end of this fishing voyage with my dad would be a celebration to remember.

The long-anticipated Carnival of Time.

The misty morning would soon lose its control over the air, yielding to the rising sun over the horizon. The storm had concealed the sky the night before. It made navigation difficult, but my dad was an expert. He had no fear. He didn't bat an eye when a small vessel sailed close to our Starboard side, shouting voices warning of treacherous seas, returning pirates, sea monsters and falling skies. They weren't the first fleeing folk we saw taking to the sea. It was strange indeed. There should have been more boats sailing inland, headed for the most anticipated carnival of the year.

We were almost ashore, and the fog didn't break as it should have. The brackish water churned, but with my dad at the helm, I had little fear.

"Wonder what everyone's so scared of?" I asked out loud, trying to gaze beyond the unnatural fog.

"We can't afford bein' 'fraid of ghost stories." Dad said, unworried as always. "This catch sold at the carnival will keep us goin' the rest of the year." He explained.

Dad was right, there was no room to be worried, no matter the strange circumstance of fleeing boats in the mist. I was done with my deck chores, and now put my remaining attention into finishing my carnival mask. Everyone wore one. No matter the race, creed, or country, everyone would join as one to celebrate. At least that was what dad had explained. I didn't understand anything but my excitement for the festivities before me. Every year dad sailed to the four cornered kingdoms to sell our catch and wears from our land. I was six when mom finally let me join him. We arrived, and I was captivated by the sights and smells of the town. Decorations lined every wall, bells and banners of yellow, blue, green and red fluttered from every rooftop.

Storytellers stood aloft on crates, entertaining with songs and tales of giants and masked warriors. They wore flowing and colorful garments, commanding puppets that danced on near invisible strings. Juggling twins balanced on pointed toes. They threw a collection of rainbow balls in a high arch to each other, leaving enough room for passersby to duck under.

Every year since I first beheld it, the carnival never failed to delight or amaze. I would stair wide eyed, entranced by the strange people who lived in this mystical land. There were those with mahogany wood skin and colorful leaf clothing. They had eyes like the glow of fireflies, living alongside singing frogs and fauna in their swamp. They would dance in a regal line, thrown aloft on spinning petals to impress.

My dad once had to pull me off the road as the ground rumbled, a prelude to what was coming. Three massive creatures raced by on the cobblestone streets. Their bodies like boulders, rolled in balls to test their speed against each other before the crowds.

We would drop anchor soon, and I may even glance the amphibious folk who called the golden beaches of the town's Bay home. They could swim faster than any vessel, no matter how many sails such a vessel wielded. Skilled fishers, decorating their aquatic home with silver scales and coral of every imaginable pigment. These aquatic people brought their most skilled vocalists and accompanying musical ensemble to the carnival.

Such wonder never ceased to impress me, the strange peoples, and clashing cultures so different from my small village across the sea.

Beyond the smell of saltwater, I detected the scent of burning wood. It meant we were almost to the shore. My heart raced, willing the ship to carry us faster along the unusually harsh tides.

I could already taste the sugary confections, deep fried or dipped in syrup. Rich creamy milk to wash down the treats. Dad promised I was old enough to try the creamed brew made only for adults the day I turned 11, if I stayed close to him while at the lounge.

There would be music spanning the eclectic kingdoms. Tribal mountain drums, woodwind serenades, and of course the sweetly soprano voice of the Western Bay. There would be days of dancing and other children to play with. Endless choices of games under tents and in buildings awaited, daring me to try my luck for an assortment of prizes. There were head scratching mazes to navigate, dizzying spinning floors to conquer, or targets to shoot in a pool of water. A large green park with slides and climbing trees were also free to explore. Fond memories returned of carnivals gone by, where my dad would chase me through dancing bushes in the park.

I would be able to stay up later then any other night. Torchlight would illuminate the twirling twin dancers as they twisted in impressive spirals. Each cool evening would end with fireworks parading across the sky, bright enough to make the stars jealous. Dad would hoist me on his shoulders, and we would watch the pastel colors explode over our heads, accentuated by the dark canvas of night.

Then they would gather. All peoples from each corner would meet at the Carnival's end in the city center. Masks and smiles would adorn their faces. A special scaffolding would be built, allowing the people to climb up the steps and into the mechanical wonder that was the heart of the town. They would behold the great gear powered clock tower as it would chime, loud, for every creature to hear across every nation to herald the new year.

No matter their differences, weather they resided from the swamp, mountains, ocean, or distant canyons, all nations would be as one to face the new morning together.

The mist broke before me. The ship lurched. We had run aground; the shore having been invisible until we were upon it. I stood from the deck; my completed mask clutched tight. Though the bay looked the same as I recalled from the year before, the air felt wrong. It sat stale on my tongue. The presence of amphibious folk was absent. No ships sailed but our own and not a single beach lounger sat waving from the sand.

I looked to my dad for answers to this perplexing puzzle. What I saw on his face terrified me, because it was the first time, I had ever witnessed fear in his eyes. His hands still grasped the wheel, his knuckles white as he stared in silence at the sky.

I followed his gaze skyward. I forgot to maintain a hold on my mask, and it dropped to the deck with a clank. Despite the day, in defiance of the rising sun, the moon remained. It stood sentinel in the sky, grinning madly down at the land, so close I could count its teeth, study its crater pocked surface. Its gaze promised death for the land below. The massive celestial body inched closer with each second that ticked by. The ground trembled, the doomed kingdoms powerless to do more than wait for its inevitable collision.

The Carnival was here, and this year, it seemed the moon had come down to assure it would be a celebration the people would not soon forget.