Interlude--Ramona Part One

Interlude--Ramona Part One

Carousel, Carousel.

April 12, 1992

The Original Centennial

(before the continuity loop)

~-~

Ramona Mercer looked over the crowd at the Bewitching Pavilion. It was mostly families, with lots of young children in cutesy costumes. One little boy in a stroller was dressed as the Edding Swamp Monster, which was said to look like a mutant catfish with spider legs for whiskers. His mother had stuck large, hairy spider legs sprawling out of his stroller, while the stroller's opening looked like the mouth of the jagged-toothed monster itself.

Huh, Ramona thought. I guess that means the baby wasnt really dressed as the monster but was being eaten by the creaturea strange choice.

Still, very cute.

The bigger the children got, the less cute their costumes were.

Some of the absolutely least cute children at the pavilion were the teenagers who were throwing popcorn at each other at a table far in the back. Their costumes werent meant to solicit awws and oohs, they were meant to scare or even gross out anyone who looked at them.

They didnt even have the decency to put effort in. They were just covered in fake blood. Most of them were just wearing street clothes, not real costumes other than the blood and some errant fake guts. Shame. Dressing up on the anniversary of the founding used to be something everyone went all out for when Ramona was a kid.

The pavilion was a pitiful sight. It was a glorified food court.

It was also loud. Too loud.

The venues weak sound system could not carry over the noise of the crowd and the rides, but Ramona wasnt going to let that stop her.

She approached the microphone and yelled, Welcome to the Carousel Centennial Bewitching Pavilion!

There was nothing bewitching about this place other than some tacky streamers. Ramona felt like a fool in her black dress and pointy hat. The fake warts on her nose and cheekbones itched. She was hired to dress like a witch and sing songs for children. Lucky her.

Still, when it came down to it, she was going to be able to play her music and pay her bills from it. That was the dream, right? She had forged a patchwork career doing odd jobs around Carousel, working at carnivals, playing music at birthday parties, playing extras in the cheap horror movies made in town, and anything else she could do and still have time to pick her sister up from school.

She grabbed her most prized possessionher electric guitarand took a deep breath.

Im Ramona, and these are the Zombies, she said, pointing to her bandmates behind her. They were not very convincing zombies. One of the few things the venue was clear about was that they needed a cheesy, horror-themed band name, and the rotund gentleman who told her this was very set on it being Ramona and the Zombies. She was embarrassed to even say it. She had begged to make it Ramona and the Corpses or, better yet, just the Zombies so she could leave her name out of it, but no dice.

The crowd didnt react.

Ramona Mercer, that is, she said. Suddenly, the crowd was interested. They werent standing and cheering, but they were at least paying attention.

Her last name was well known, even if she wasnt.

She then launched into her set. It was just a bunch of her original music augmented with fresh, spooky lyrics for the occasion. Her soulful melody about losing her parents at a young age became a song about a haunted convertible. Her heartfelt ballad to her sister became a song about an evil siren. Her love songs were changed to be about vampires, werewolves, and a mummys boy who would never choose her.

You do what you have to do to make ends meet.

The kids loved it. Every time she said some ridiculous line about a vampire not knowing whether to kiss her or drink her blood or about a werewolf who needed to shave, they laughed like it was the best thing they had ever heard.

Between the kids, the parents who were happy because their kids were happy, and the old men who stopped by to ogle, she was really growing a crowd.

While she sang, she looked off-stage to where her sister sat at one of the picnic tables at the pavilion. She was doing her homework.

Phoebe Mercer. Sixteen years old. The only living person Ramona loved completely.

Ramona had gotten permission to leave a large tip jar near the entrance of the venue. Experience had taught her to bolt it down and make sure the opening was too small for those damn teenagers to get their hands in.

She watched as people generously awarded her their change from buying lunch at the booths in the area. There were more than a few larger denominations being stuffed inside, too.

It was all going to be worth it.

That is if she didnt claw her face off to get rid of these stupid fake warts.

She sang and played her heart out.

When her time slot was over, a barbershop quartet with fake slits on their throats was chomping at the bit to get on stage and do their act.

Theyre all yours, she said as she unplugged her guitar from the venues system and helped her bandmates carry their instruments down the stairs.

Her drummer, Tony, came running over with the tip jar. He held out the tip jar and shook it with great effort while smiling. He wore a ponytail and a graphic T-shirt. Ramona had dated him back in his pre-ponytail days, but they had just been friends for half a decade.

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Were eating good tonight, he said. What are you buying with your share of the treasure, Ramona?

Ramona took the jar and shook it. He wasnt kidding. It was quite a haul.

Rent, she said.

Her bass guitarist was off trying to talk an innocent carnival game worker out of her phone number, probably by purposely not mentioning that he was a bass player. Her keyboardist had stayed behind to assist the barbershop quartet with a couple of their songs that had a part for some comedic piano riffs.

You guys were amazing, Phoebe said, carrying her math textbook under one arm.New novel chapters are published at novelhall.com

You had your headphones on the whole time, Tony said, pointing to the metal band and yellow foam pads still around her neck.

No, Phoebe said softly. She held onto Ramona tightly.

What are you two doing? Ramona asked.

She looked around the crowd. People were watching something that was making their way toward them.

We lost Emelio and Du she started to say about her two absent bandmates.

Then she saw what everyone was looking at.

A woman in a black dress stumbled through the crowd. She wore a strange veil, but it had been pulled back over the top of her head, revealing a bizarre mask of some kind.

Help! she screamed. I need help. I need a hospital. No, no, I need a doctor, please. Take me away, please!

Ramona was taken aback by the sight. People were watching, confused, and no one was trying to help.

As the woman got near to people, they would see her face, and some would react by clapping their hands at the detail of her mask.

It looked to Ramona like she had a mask made of snakes. No, it couldnt be a mask. It was some sort of latex prop glued to her face.

No, the tiny snakes were wriggling as if they had been sewn right on her face, still alive.

Oh my god, Ramona said.

The crowd reacted in different ways. Some looked horrified, some concerned. Still, some must have thought it was a very good costume. Glancing around the crowd, there were many people dressed for the occasion. None of them had a costume this convincing, however.

Finally, one of the women in the crowd asked, Is this real or is it part of the celebration?

Many of the crowd appeared interested in the answer.

I think its real, a man said.

As if waiting for permission, many in the crowd rushed forward, including a woman wearing a badge that signified she was a staff nurse working at the Centennial.

Maam, she said, not completely sure what she was supposed to be doing but eager to help. Come here, maam. Let me take a look.

The woman with the strange things on her face screamed out, Help me. My name is Lillian Geist. Ive been held against my will and I just escaped. I need help.

Boos rang out through the crowd. Suddenly, their concern evaporated.

Oh, come on, a man in the crowd said with a laugh, Thats too far. Lillian Geist. Wait

Suddenly, the color drained from the mans face. It wasnt just him. Many in the crowd took an instinctive step back.

Gasps ran through the crowd.

Lillian screamed, Help me, help me, please!

Now, the crowd stood their ground and watched as Lillian fell down sobbing, ugly, tearless sobs.

Someone help her, Ramona said. She looked around at the people who just stood and stared. Wait, is this real?

Ramona, Phoebe whispered sharply. Be quiet, please be quiet.

Ramona looked around the large circle of people, confused as they did nothing.

She was shy at first, unsure whether this was some kind of performance.

Ramona saw a young child asking its mother what to do. The mother put a finger to her lips and whispered, Just watch.

The crowd was quiet. The entire Centennial Celebration had gone silent except for the sounds of rides and machines. No people, even far in the distance, were making a noise.

Ramona didnt know what to do. She stepped out toward the woman, and the people watched.

What is going on here? she asked.

No one answered except Phoebe, whose eyes were filled with tears. She mouthed something at Ramona but didnt speak.

This woman needs help, Ramona said quietly at first, but then repeated herself louder, This woman needs help. What are you all doing? Tony, whats going on?

Ramona, he said as if it took great effort.

He looked her in the eye. He was crying.

And then, all at once, the sounds of the crowd in the distance returned. People screamed in joy on the rides.

Then screams started up that werent out of joy. They were screams of terror.

Ramona turned in the direction of the cries.

Just as she did, a large snapping sound could be heard, and, in the distance, the massive Ferris wheel started to tilt dramatically.

Oh my god, Ramona said.

In the distance, something was burning.