The spinning machinations of the doll sounded like a thousand wheels rolling over shattered glass. His nervosity grew and grew as the thoughts accumulated in his head like an incoming storm. On the surface, Pinocchio seemed fine as he escalated the stairs, but the guardsman’s receptivity made him hear the awful sound bursting in his head.
“Just say it, kid.” Said the guardsman, whereupon the doll let out a sigh.
“Wouldn’t the people be afraid of me like they were before? How could I make them happy if I scare them away?”
A clicking sound lept out of his mouth with his lips twisting into a smile. Due to his busy schedule, the guardsman couldn't tell how many days had passed since he caught the little wooden boy. Pinocchio didn’t seem to know either. He deduced that the doll was occupied with all the stories the cricket told him about places of distant lands with figures unheard of. Whenever the guardsman recalls his storytelling style, an unfamiliar anger seized him.
By simply remembering his existence, an acidic feeling bubbled in his rusty heart. The blue fairy who acted as a surrogate for his eye made his mind dance like fire every time the cricket was mentioned, but its power was too little to do anything but contaminate the guardsman’s heart with its animosity towards him. With a deep breath, he reoriented his focus to the doll’s question.
“Some time has passed and we are in a different location from the one you were in, so you have nothing to worry about.”
His words quieted the storm of machinery within him, easing the fairy’s frustration in return. With the noise dispelled, the guardsman was able to think clearly. A little idea came to mind just as he was about to climb up the last few stairs.
“Let me show you something.”
The guardsman offered his hand, decorated with a halo of comfort in Pinocchio’s eyes. In spite of its unrefined appearance, the doll grew enamoured by the gesture, seeing it as a source of great hope in times of torment. Happily, he took his large hand, walking out of the dungeon’s and into the world again.
A bright blue sky hung over the marketplace, imbuing all of the colorful fabrics with a glow. Pinocchio moved his wooden joints with ease from the cold dungeon to the warm outside despite the creaking and odd discomfort from the heat. The hot air was filled with the scent of spices, fresh foods and the chatter of passersby, all abloom in the doll’s senses. What the surroundings had in richness was more than enough of a reason to endure a bit of discomfort in the wake of immense joy. Seeing two doll’s wandering the street didn’t seem to bother the people there. The guardsman knew that they were used to the sight of dolls of all designs around the streets, whether as soul-searching loners or slaves who didn’t possess the faculties to feel poignant suffering. An unfamiliar but welcome warmth filtered through the patina shell of his heart when he saw the doll smile brighter than the noonday sun in the cloudless sky.
Through the dense marketplace, they meandered like water through the buyers, sellers and onlookers who stood still and circled street performers belonging to a group the guardsman worked for. He kept a close eye on the doll and a secure hand around his so as to not lose him. That was all he had to do to accomplish what he set out to do in the first place; the work completed itself by virtue of Pinocchio’s curious spirit. His fay eye glimmered like a star as he guided Pinocchio’s senses to where he wanted.
“You will be working with those street performers too. Maybe if you learned some skills like that, you can also do something similar.”
The guardsman grabbed his shoulders and steered him towards the nearest performer, cutting through the circle of people with ease.
Pinocchio’s eyes glimmered with wonder as he saw a masked man in a turquoise and white striped smock twist a music box before the eyes of the onlookers. His greenish half-mask did not hide the brown blaze of his eyes, guiding the attention to his brilliant smile. He walked around in the circle the people formed, showing the music box to them with outstretched arms. From the usual faces, he noticed one awfully familiar one next to someone completely unfamiliar. Yet he understood that his heart saw the doll as someone familiar, but his mind couldn’t understand why. The bright turquoise of Pinocchio’s eyes ensnared the performer, who let the music box’ melody play close to the doll. Seeing the blueish green fire growing in his eyes only strengthened his smile as he made it back to the center and placed the fully wound music box on the ground.
The melody that the box sang radiated throughout the onlookers like dappled light into their hearts, playing with senses outside of the material world. The performer began the performance with a slow beginning, keeping their suspense taut and their expectations unclear. He started by waving his hands in the air as if he were pulling puppet strings or clumsily strumming the strings of a harp. The people began to chuckle as they noticed that nothing was happening while he continued doing something. He froze and began to inspect the music box, walking in a circle around it before kneeling down to slowly open the top of the box. Once he did, a set of five flies flew out of the top as its music audibly melted, arousing the crowd to chuckle.
The turquoise and white striped entertainer jumped up and tried to grab one of the flies, jumping here and there to catch them in his palms. At first, it was all done in playful jest, painting it in an innocent halo, but as the music became more intense, his attempts to capture the flies were filled with more fire. Hopelessly running back and forth became him throwing his hands into the air as if he were throwing a million punches in order to catch just one fly. The more hands he threw and the more the fly evaded him, the brighter the fly began to glow until its flying patterns transfigured into lucent curls of smoke. The rhythmic clapping of the audience made it seem as though they turned the fly into a floating star whose tail of light decorated the air with radiant ribbons. At the height of excitement, the man caught the incandescent fly with both his hands, eliciting an audible wave of praise from the audience. It took a large amount of strength to keep the fly still. Pinocchio saw his body shake like wind-kissed leaves until his palms were violently opened by a spray of glowing flower petals erupting from his hands, remaining afloat in the air like dust caught in sunbeams. A unanimous gasp of wonder resounded all around the performer, giving him a smile Pinocchio saw as the best part of the performance.
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He attempted to capture the four other flies that were hanging around the music box as the viewers clapped once again to stoke the flames of his action. The second one he captured only bursted into light within his palms, escaping his grasp to scatter in pieces and spiral into the air with radiant veins that became one pillar of light. The pillar collapsed into itself to form a star that finally blossomed with a cluster of roses before all its petals decorated the floor. The third and fourth he captured simultaneously, turning them into the fresh head of a pale purple water lily. The performer walked around to show the onlookers the beautiful flower, all amazed by the foreign beauty. After he made all of them see it, he went down on one knee and gave it to the doll with the turquoise eyes. In the union of their gazes, their fates were bound, and the doll understood how his smile will one day be the most sublime thing in existence.
Gratefully, the doll accepted the purple lily, unable to turn his eyes away from it once it landed in his hands. That shade of purple dyed his ghost in a future promise, one he felt, but couldn’t possibly know. The unknowable intoxicated him as he saw its wonder unfolding before his eyes in the capturing of the final fly. Just as it flew into his palms, he blew air through it and treated it like a horn, blowing out a thick sea of smoke that obscured the vision of all the onlookers. The man manipulated the music in such a way that it made all the smoke turn into thin curls barely visible to the eye, revealing an empty circle with no radiant petals in the air and no crimson ones on the floor. An ocean of applause roared as he bowed and all the doll could see was a halo around the man, drenched in a glory borne from his adoration. He raised his head and their eyes met once again. A surge of wild energy went through the performer’s spine as though a million wings sprouted from his body, erasing all weight and matter. Time veiled itself in his being for a moment, dying his soul with the rays of Pinocchio’s prismatic heart.
The crowd flowed into the throng of people as the guardsman and the doll walked towards the performer. The man was dying to take the mask off, but he composed himself and redirected his attention to the starry eyed doll. His gaze lifted to the guardsman’s grin.
“Adone the harlequin? Since when do you play the role of scapino?”
“Since he got sick. I played his part because there was no one else to fill the role.”
The guardsman let out a hearty laugh that scraped his metallic insides together.
“You are one of our best performers, Adone. You might as well be the first to meet the newest member to the family. This is Pinocchio.”
“Pinocchio…” Adone echoed, trying to familiarize himself with the unorthodox name. While he did so, he looked back down at the doll with a heavy sadness in his eyes. It amazed the doll how such a vehement fire and such a gentle and sweet pain can reside in the same person. But he quickly broke eye contact and fixed his gaze firmly on the rusty automaton. With a strong arm, he pulled him into his bosom and began to whisper something in his ear.
“If anything happens to this kid, I will rip you cog from cog and sell all your parts.”
The guardsman reciprocated the gesture and pulled him closer.
“You’ve always had such a big heart for someone so heartless. Full of passion and full of pain, that’s what you are. One day you will turn to ash and be left with nothing; that’s just the fate of fools like you. Play the game and you might win, because if you don’t play you will fail by virtue of necessity.”
He pushed Adone’s shoulders away and gave him a cordial smile.
“Why don’t you show the doll how the business works around here? You have been our greatest artist after all. Mangiafuoco loves to wax on about how well your work is both in the light and the dark.”
Adone let out a grunt as he stepped back from his touch before it made him burst into flames.
“That fire-fucker can kiss the dirt.”
“It’s fire-eater and he’ll only kiss the dirt if it's made of gold. We both know that you can never turn dirt into gold, just like how money doesn’t grow on trees. Make sure he doesn’t hear that or else you will be the one kissing the dirt.”
The guardsman gave him one last pat on the back before waving the both of them goodbye, disappearing into the crowd. Unamused, Adone went to grab his supplies, ignoring the doll’s presence.
Seeing as he was busy, Pinocchio grabbed the box from the floor and went over to the performer to give it to him. A voice told the doll not to disturb him, so he wandered away and inspected the detailed carving of the box. The designs of the box told him to twist the key winder, so he did. After completely winding the music box, he was shocked to not hear anything but the light clicking of pinions and metal. He placed it to his wooden ear and listened very closely. The motions of the music box seemed to move in harmony with his own machinations. But not the pieces of metal within him; the machinations beyond the mechanisms. An unfathomable web of interconnected cogs and wheels moved in harmony, binding him to the melody that moves all things in existence. It was there that the doll understood the fountain of wonder where he could only see its streams, for the actual source was impossible for him to fully grasp.
A faint whisper guided Adone’s attention to the doll when he finished packing his bag. He slowly approached the doll who held the music box in his hand, but just as he tapped his shoulder, he lost his sense of reality as if someone ripped the world away from him. In the edge of a second, Adone felt two arms wrap around his torso and a voice gentler than the wind speak into every fiber of his being. For that period of time, it felt like everything made sense. A bright blue color stained his vision for a moment before only it became the color of the sky again.
Hearing a thud, Pinocchio broke out of his trance and saw Adone holding the top of his head with a pained expression on his face. Just when Pinocchio touched Adone’s shoulder, the world around them warped in a myriad of different ways, stretching and condensing into all sorts of shapes. Night and day melted into one as people appeared, disappeared and reappeared in a kaleidoscope of faces until there was no one in sight. Just the two of them remained, blanketed under a sea of stars with not another soul left in the web of buildings surrounding them.
When the performer looked around, he remembered the smallest trace of his childhood where he explored the forest and observed as many animals as he could. He was only reminded of this glimpse of light from his past by comparing the habitat of animals to the habitat of humans. The hives of bees looked no different from the tall buildings people produce to work or live in. Their gaze became one as Adone saw the world through Pinocchio’s turquoise eyes, seeing the buildings and works of man to be akin to the works of any other creature on earth. Adone finally understood what he was looking at with his mind dyed in Pinocchio’s wisdom. Life revealed itself to him in its sublimity, showing him a freedom he longed for more than anything.
The wooden boy retracted his hand from him, asking if he was okay. Adone’s gaze pierced the earth, reaching the astral ocean circumambulating them. As he reoriented himself back to reality, he let out a hearty laugh and a smile Pinocchio will always carry in his heart. Their fates were woven into each other’s iridescent ghosts.