The Graveyard Festival

Chapter 2 - Someplace Strange

Thana's graveyard was a series of wooden crosses stuck into the soil, all crooked and uneven. The winds trailed whispering kisses through her hair as she wove carefully around the crosses. No one ever came into the cemetery anymore, so she lived alone in a little cottage in the dead center of the graveyard, amongst all the skeletons. It'd been her home for as long as she could remember.

She couldn't help but think of Luke and his pale face and his wide eyes. He'd looked half scared to death. If he'd really died, she thought, he'd be buried here with all the people of Six who had ever died. And she'd have to step over his corpse every day. She wrinkled her nose at the prospect.

She was still thinking about corpses and bones, in fact, when she wrenched open the door of her broken cottage (she had to wrestle the door out of its frame) and collapsed onto the bed fully clothed.

And she dreamt it too.

She dreamt of skeletons and skull lamps, of circus tents that were made of midnight and mystery. She dreamt of a woman with a talking mask on her arm, of a tall, dark man with a top hat and a black cape, of a man with tattoos that snaked up his arms and over his chest. She dreamt of a cold, high laughter that echoed in her mind.

When she opened her eyes again, the clock was chiming.

One, two, three...

At twelve, the house shook.

Thana shot out of bed faster than a bullet. Her heart hammered and her breath caught in her throat. She stumbled as the floor came out from beneath her feet. The pots and pans rattled. The lamp fell over. The lights trembled and dust fell from the ceiling.

And then the ground jerked to the side.

Thana lost her balance, collapsing onto the floor with a scream trapped somewhere between her lungs and her lips. She swore that the whole house moved.

And then, with one final quake, everything fell still. Dust stopped trickling from hidden corners in the ceiling, and the pots and pans, now on the floor, rolled to a stop beside the fallen lamp, which flickered and died. Thana, feeling light-headed, clambered to her feet.

Before she could register the mess that was her home, a gust of wind flooded the room through the open window. She breathed in deep, and then promptly forgot how to exhale.

Something sweet had drifted in on the wind.

Thana sniffed at the air. Cinnamon and caramel. It was midnight, and her house smelled like cinnamon and caramel. It made her feel as though she was drenched in warm honey, reminding her of sweet dreams and blissful memories. She inhaled, filling her lungs with the cloying air.

Mesmerized by the scent, Thana walked to her door and pulled it open. She realized house had moved. How strange. Houses didn't simply speed halfway across a cemetery until they stood at its edge. Breath hardly there anymore, she stepped across the threshold.

Circus tents had taken the spot where her house once was.

They rose from the earth like ancient trees, gathered in shadows and mysteries. She could barely separate the tents from the starless night beyond. Even as the winds rose, and Thana's hair ruffled in the breeze, the tents were still. An odd feeling drifted in with the wind, something Thana couldn't entirely place. The maze was as still as death, and yet she felt it stirring with quiet life.

As though under a spell, she walked forward until she was close enough to touch the iron fence. She brushed a finger against it; the fence seemed to quiver at her touch. She followed its path until she stood at the gates. The vast raven curved above her in its dark regality.