With Halloween approaching next week, I think I’ve excelled myself and prepared for your entertainment a week of fangtastic and spooktacular posts (snigger). Oh come on, you know you love it.
So to kick it off I’ve written this little number inspired by the readings of the ‘Meet Me at the Carnival’ series over on Raw Earth Ink. I asked the lovely Ms Caribou if she’d mind me doing a spin off of part one and she obligingly agreed.
This is the result. I hope I’ve done her work justice and she as well as you Guys and Gals enjoy.
Fortunes for the Unfortunate
The carnival was closing for the night
As he stumbled through the grounds
Beer and half eaten chilli dog in hand
Groaning and bumping into those leaving
Angry at every drop of beer spilled
Wading through his own self pity
His fractured ego looking for an answer
To his unjust and sudden demise
Dragging his Fendi’s through the dust
To as far as he could go and the tent
Standing there in front of him
Daring him to go in
He chuckled to himself disdainfully
Is this all he had left?
Has he been reduced to this?
A purple and black-striped canvas tent
Worn on the edges
Patches here and there
What could he lose having nothing left?
He’ll play along with this farcical irony
Abstinent from any guilt or remorse
He pushed back the flap and walked in
To see everything he expected but
The beauty of the stereotypical gypsy
Presumptuous attitude still flying high
He stumbled and began to sit
To be faced with an index finger
Without even a glance she scorned
“Do not sit until I invite”
As she continued to place tarot on the table
Impatiently waiting, ready to turn
She looks up, looks within
He’s uncomfortable, squirming
“Tonight you die”
Could mean any number of things?
This time he does turn as her gaze drops
Stepping out its seems cooler, darker now
A sobered look sees a half eaten chilli dog
Cold yes, but he takes a last bite
Swallowing turns to choking; turns to poetic justice
As he falls and hears the gypsy’s last words
“Fortunes for the unfortunate”
Copyright © JRFC October 2018
Image from Pixabay