Ripples spread along its surface in waves, leaving tiny round holes in their wake that spewed forth streams of malodorous pink gas. From the subtle wiggling of its prodigious folds, one could tell that this particular mass of multicolored flesh was neither of an especially hostile nor of an overly friendly disposition. But despite its stark neutrality, it seemed as eager to engage in conversation as anyone. And surprisingly enough, despite its lack of any overt mouth parts, it appeared to be able to produce a kind of speech by utilizing the low tones of its many pores.

“Bulululululu!”

I found it quite intuitive to interpret the low gurgling sound it suddenly produced as a neighborly “Hello.”

“Hello to you too, my fine friend!” I responded, naturally, to do otherwise would be ever-so rude!

The ever shifting gaze of its rotating eyeballs paused suddenly at my reply, only for them to immediately snap and fix themselves upon my form. Eagerly, I met its eyes, mesmerized by their rotating splendor.

“Bulululululu!”

The meaning of this utterance did not come to me as readily as that of the last. It seemed to be a sort of urging… Or perhaps some sort of appeal? Either way, what was certain was that it was gravely offensive.

“Is that so?” I asked dismissively. Whether or not the beast had the necessary inkling of humanity to understand such nuanced communication remained yet to be determined.

It seemed to take to my reaction with much disbelief, its form wiggling slightly, its eyes remaining as blank and as incessantly in motion as seemed to be the norm, but there was definitely an air of astonished dissatisfaction about it. This I concluded from the red streaks on its surface turning a thwarted shade of bordeaux. Whatever its feelings on the matter, it chose to make no further sound—a puzzling response.

Just as I was about to, tacitly and after much deliberation about the nuances of its body language, conclude that it was attempting to convey a sense of petulant affirmation, I was interrupted by another voice from behind.

“Sorry, but could you give me the time?”

“Yes, of course!” I said, throwing a quick glance at my wristwatch. “It’s half past nine.”

“You’re sure? Could you check again, just to be sure?”

“Happily!” I say, and to my horror I find the man's deplorable skepticism to have been justified in the extreme.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s a quarter past six in the aubergine! I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know how I could have possibly erred so gravely!”

In lieu of gratitude for my kindness, I received what, by all accounts, appeared to be a swift punch to the face. Luckily—it was comically feeble.

“My good man, how dare you!? You are lucky that you appear to be so feeble as to not have caused me any pain or inury! Why, I’d never!”

“Bit of a novice, aren’t you?” Asked the man in the clown suit, his voice disbelieving, “You’re dreaming. This is a dream. Look around.”

I was… confused, to say the least, but it would explain why I felt so out of it. So, I gave in and did as instructed.

“Oh.”

The three of us were standing in the center of a circus, fully encircled by tents. They were large, much larger than should have been physically possible. On the other end of what must have been the entrance was a tent so grand that it had to have dwarfed most buildings in size. It loomed menacingly above us, threatening despite the cheerful color scheme. Heavily ornate, the tents all followed a basic color scheme of red and black stripes, though the exact hue seemed to shift the longer you looked at it.

It was at this point that I realized that the last thing I actually remembered was being in a supermarket parking lot, and that there definitely wasn’t any sort of time called “In The Aubergine.” Where am I? How did I get here? Where even is here!?

And then I looked down and saw that I was wearing a pair of elegant white gloves, a wand clasped in one hand. It took me a moment, but eventually, I put the pieces together. Gloves, wand, tailcoat, tophat—a whole ensemble in black and white. It was a magician’s costume!

Although, none of this was as shocking as when I made the mistake of looking up. Sheer stone cliffs rising from all sides, gently illuminated by the soft red light of the circus. The shadows on them curled in the shimmering light as if peeking from the nooks that hid them. And above even the canyon's sheer cliffs, there was only an empty, blood-red sky, dotted densely with pitch black stars, staring down at us all too much like a vast multitude of ever-watching eyes…

I don’t know how long I was looking up at the sky for, but eventually The Clown drew my attention back with a honk of his nose.

Honk! He smiled while doing it too—cheekily. He looked like any other Clown. Makeup and red shoes.

“Back to normal, I take it?”

“I… don’t know?”

And I really didn’t know. I was feeling much better, but still not completely right. What even was ‘normal’ for this situation? Blind panic?

“I’m not as… loopy as I was, but it’s hard to say that I’ve gone ‘back to normal’ if I don’t even know where I am or how I got here.”

“Fair enough,” said The Clown, “at least you’re not talking like a thesaurus anymore. I’ll keep it brief. You’re in Jarqual’s Circus, if you were wondering.”

He smiled at that, and I’m sure my face gave away my slight exasperation. I had obviously been wondering. If he’d noticed, he didn’t pay it much mind, but I’d swear his lips twitched a bit.

“We specialize in providing—hm? How should I put it? Ah!—Clandestine services to a certain organization. We also do all the usual circus stuff. That’s why we have the circus, yeah? As for you, you wandered in all-dazed-like through the gate and started talking with The Freak here. I’ve got both good news and bad news on that front.” Honk!

He stopped there. Smiling. Beckoning.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

.

“...And that would be?”

He laughed at me. I didn’t get the joke. Was me being annoyed meant to be the punchline?

“The bad news is that you’ve been wandering aimlessly through dreams for three days straight, as far as I can tell. The good news is we’re down a magician, and you’re already dressed for the role, so we should be able to come to some sort of agreement.”

“So… I’m trapped here and you want to hire me as cheap labor since I have no other choice? Is that what you’re getting at?” Honestly, given my lack of options, the prospect didn’t seem that unappealing, but there was a whole world of horror reserved for the desperate.

“Nothing so dour, sourpuss! Turn that frown upside Clown! Honk! We should be able to wake you from your little coma—extended sleep really. You see, people with actual brain damage aren’t usually as coherent as you are even in dreamland. So whatever the cause, you probably just need a little jolt to wake up, and in return, well, all we need is a few favors to be performed in the waking world! So how about it?”

Owing the nutty dreamland mafia was better than being their indentured servant, I guess. Although—unnamed favors were… pretty suspicious to say the least.

“And the favors? They’re not super-illegal, life-ruining, or just plain murder are they?”

“We’ll see how it goes. But trust me kid, when you dream of being a magician The Circus is the place to be! You’ll be chomping at the bit to join up sooner or later, I’m sure!” Honk!

“I don’t find that reassuring.”

“No one does, but everyone still agrees in the end! And you do too, right? Right?”

“And my other choices?”

“None!”

“Then yes.”

“Done and done! Just make your way to The Fortune Teller’s tent, and he’ll handle the rest. Try and keep him on track, and be sure to remember! The Circus will be in touch!”

He pointed me to a section of the circus some ways away, and It was beyond obvious which tent belonged to The Fortune Teller. Taller than its neighbors and with a sort of wispy look to it. Above the entrance, there was a metal sign hanging from a pole—in the shape of a half-lidded eye, as per tradition.

As I pushed my way past the entrance, I was greeted with a pale-purple room lit entirely by candle light. Dozens of candelabras surrounding a central desk, crystal ball and all, that had an older, distinguished looking man seated at it. He looked up to greet me, revealing round-rimmed glasses.

“Ah yes, come in, come in! There’s no use dilly-dallying near the entrance if you want to get a reading, Mr. Becker! “

“A reading? Didn’t The Clown send me here to be woken up with ‘a jolt’?” I asked, no wonder The Fortune Teller knew my name.

He waved off my concern, oversized-purple sleeves billowing with the motion.

“I know. Believe me, I know. It is all just as I foresaw. You know, I drew The Magician just this morning. Pretty obvious as far as omens go, isn’t it? We’re a circus without a magician after all! What else was it supposed to mean? The future can sometimes be astoundingly uncreative, almost passé, really. And did you know that…”

“Sorry, but could we get on with it?” I said, he seemed like the type to ramble and The Clown had warned me to keep him on track.

“Oh. Oh Yes! That! Well. Just get a standard reading from me, nothing special, and you’re guaranteed to wake up! They always wake up on the last card, you know? It’s annoying, but to be expected. Anyway, Welcome to The Circus! I’m so glad we’re getting another Magician, you know? Someone to finally talk about the craft with! Not that you know much now, of course! But in due time…”

“But I haven’t joined up?” I asked, puzzled. “All I did was agree to do ‘a few small favors’ in exchange for you waking me up. This is just what I was wearing when I came to.”

“My dear boy, I’m so, so sorry. That was a bit insensitive of me. It’s just when you’ve seen so many… Nevermind. I’m sure you’ll find your own way about it. We’d best get to the reading now, I think. Right, I suppose you’re eager to get out of your coma. You’ve not been out for too long, only three or so days, but still be mindful of the muscle atrophy! And check for any bedsores! And of course there’s the little matter of your throat…”

“The reading, please,” He really did like to go on...

“Ah yes. Let's get on with it,” he responded, deflating slightly.

It was at this point that he whipped out a tarot deck from one of his sleeves and placed it on the desk. I startled as the candles that had previously lit the inside of the tent suddenly blew out, leaving the room in utter darkness, but for a single candle lighting the desk.

“A bit of showmanship,” winked the fortune teller.

“I’ll draw three cards from the deck, representing your past, present and future. You’ll wake up on the third one, people always do. I’d advise you to pay careful attention, even though we’re mostly doing this to wake you up, the cards might reveal useful knowledge regardless.”

His piece finally said, he drew the first card with a flourish and flipped it face up on the table. On the front of the card, rendered in a typical tarot style, was a picture of a woman I had seen just recently.

“Ah yes, The Hag, reversed. An unusual card to be sure, but an enlightening one! It usually represents women with foul hearts, and when reversed with foul intentions to boot! Despite the name, it doesn’t really have anything to do with their appearance. You wouldn’t happen to know the woman from the card? She does represent your past, after all…”

“It’s the woman from the supermarket!” I said, surprised. Could that be the reason I was here? Pissing off the wrong granny?

“I beat her to the last box of cinnamon crunch right before my coma! But she isn’t usually a tarot card, is she?”

“Why of course she is! One of the oblique arcana! We all are! But nevermind that, It’s quite clear that she’s the reason for your coma. I must’ve seen this story a thousand times, The Young Boy slights The Hag, perhaps unknowingly and she punishes him for it. Perhaps she pushed you into traffic? Offered you a poisoned drink? It could be anything really. I’m sure it’ll come to me soon enough. Moving on to the present, we have—The Mirror! And what is reflected in the mirror? That’s right! Yourself! And thus, this card represents me, the humble fortune teller. The interpretation is rather obvious, you're talking to me right now—in the present! Not very interesting, but certainly accurate. As for the final card, well for this kind of reading it’s always the same, incredibly boring really.”

“The future is always the same? But shouldn’t it be the hardest to predict? Evershifting and uncertain or something like that?”

“Perhaps the very beginning of the future might be as you describe, but by far the longest stretch of anyone's future is, in fact—” he began, flipping the card face up.

The card face was blank. There was absolutely nothing on the card. Not the back of the card, not a single color, not empty space, just… Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Noth—

“—Death.”

And I awoke.