PF Trick-or-Treat Street Entry: House of Fun
Title of work: Rules Aren't Shatterproof
Rating/warnings: PG
Summary: There are some people you don't want to get mixed up with.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to Wikipedia for the idea, even if I didn't check the technical details of how it works.
She came into his tent alone, just after a noisy family group left. With her hands clasped behind her back, her neat knee-length black dress and neat scraped-back black hair, she looked like she was writing a review for a discerning journal and she took so long in the maze that Dan went in to see what she was doing.
He shadowed her discreetly, through gigantism and convexity, through origami folding and pinching, watching as she paused to examine each glass panel minutely. And at the end of the maze she turned, as if she'd been aware of him the whole time, and said, “Not bad. But I have better tricks up my sleeve.”
Dan folded his arms and gave her the same sort of look she'd scoured his mirrors with. “Do you, now?”
The cacophony of the carnival swelled outside the tent, but it was as if the other side of the fabric was streets away. She seemed to wear white noise.
“I like your tattoos,” she said. “How often do you have to reapply them?”
Dan conceded her a shrug. “Everything is illusion.”
She considered this carefully. “Well...if you put it in very simple terms.” Then, suddenly brusque again, she added, “You've got a nice set-up here.”
“Are you looking for a job or something?”
“I think I am. Tell you what, I'll show you a bit of what I can do, and if you pass the test, you'll take me on.”
“If I... Look, lady, being a little crazy can be a good thing in the carnival trade, but it seems like you're overqualified.”
She smiled, reached out and wrapped her hand around his wrist. “Let's pay a visit to the carousel, shall we?”
“I'm not going anywhere right--”
The words dried up and disintegrated on his tongue. The world had fractured around him like a broken mirror. Each shard reflected a different view--a torn strip of ferris wheel lights, a panel of wheeling dancers, a postage stamp of lanterns and flags that swayed above a giddy crowd, a stripe of the inside of his own trailer. Other funfair fragments flickered in and out like hummingbird wings.
“This way,” she said, tugging him into the madness.
He choked as they passed through the side of the tent He felt nothing, no parting of cloth, just the ground under him and that was harder than it should have been. He stumbled forward another step with her. They plunged through the queues at the food stalls. No-one moved aside for them. He had a dizzy glimpse of hairskineyesteeth, and then they were past.
“Don't let go,” she said, when he tried to pull back.
Another step, and they were on the other side of the railing. The sugary carousel music and rainbow lights crashed in as if they'd just broken the surface of water.
“I don't--” he wheezed. “What did you--?”
Her fingers were cool on his pulse point. They twitched, as if with silent laughter. The coloured lights made her hair look like oil.
“Have you ever played computer games? And if you have, did you ever cheat?”
“What--?”
“Walls don't have to be solid, if you know the right codes. Welcome to my hall of mirrors.”
“This isn't a game! This is real life!”
“You're the one who was talking about illusions.” She turned them around. “People are staring. It's funny how they don't notice when someone walks right through them, but can't ignore a man gawking at a funfair ride.”
Dan was shaking and sweating so much that his hand almost slipped from her grasp. The bad mosaic of the carnival made him feel nauseous. When she released him, back inside his maze, the distortions of the mirrors looked like normality.
“So, do I have the job?” she said.
“What--what job? I mean--doing what?”
Her smile was dazzling. The mirrors caught it, twisted and stretched it.
“Anything I please.”
Rating/warnings: PG
Summary: There are some people you don't want to get mixed up with.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to Wikipedia for the idea, even if I didn't check the technical details of how it works.
She came into his tent alone, just after a noisy family group left. With her hands clasped behind her back, her neat knee-length black dress and neat scraped-back black hair, she looked like she was writing a review for a discerning journal and she took so long in the maze that Dan went in to see what she was doing.
He shadowed her discreetly, through gigantism and convexity, through origami folding and pinching, watching as she paused to examine each glass panel minutely. And at the end of the maze she turned, as if she'd been aware of him the whole time, and said, “Not bad. But I have better tricks up my sleeve.”
Dan folded his arms and gave her the same sort of look she'd scoured his mirrors with. “Do you, now?”
The cacophony of the carnival swelled outside the tent, but it was as if the other side of the fabric was streets away. She seemed to wear white noise.
“I like your tattoos,” she said. “How often do you have to reapply them?”
Dan conceded her a shrug. “Everything is illusion.”
She considered this carefully. “Well...if you put it in very simple terms.” Then, suddenly brusque again, she added, “You've got a nice set-up here.”
“Are you looking for a job or something?”
“I think I am. Tell you what, I'll show you a bit of what I can do, and if you pass the test, you'll take me on.”
“If I... Look, lady, being a little crazy can be a good thing in the carnival trade, but it seems like you're overqualified.”
She smiled, reached out and wrapped her hand around his wrist. “Let's pay a visit to the carousel, shall we?”
“I'm not going anywhere right--”
The words dried up and disintegrated on his tongue. The world had fractured around him like a broken mirror. Each shard reflected a different view--a torn strip of ferris wheel lights, a panel of wheeling dancers, a postage stamp of lanterns and flags that swayed above a giddy crowd, a stripe of the inside of his own trailer. Other funfair fragments flickered in and out like hummingbird wings.
“This way,” she said, tugging him into the madness.
He choked as they passed through the side of the tent He felt nothing, no parting of cloth, just the ground under him and that was harder than it should have been. He stumbled forward another step with her. They plunged through the queues at the food stalls. No-one moved aside for them. He had a dizzy glimpse of hairskineyesteeth, and then they were past.
“Don't let go,” she said, when he tried to pull back.
Another step, and they were on the other side of the railing. The sugary carousel music and rainbow lights crashed in as if they'd just broken the surface of water.
“I don't--” he wheezed. “What did you--?”
Her fingers were cool on his pulse point. They twitched, as if with silent laughter. The coloured lights made her hair look like oil.
“Have you ever played computer games? And if you have, did you ever cheat?”
“What--?”
“Walls don't have to be solid, if you know the right codes. Welcome to my hall of mirrors.”
“This isn't a game! This is real life!”
“You're the one who was talking about illusions.” She turned them around. “People are staring. It's funny how they don't notice when someone walks right through them, but can't ignore a man gawking at a funfair ride.”
Dan was shaking and sweating so much that his hand almost slipped from her grasp. The bad mosaic of the carnival made him feel nauseous. When she released him, back inside his maze, the distortions of the mirrors looked like normality.
“So, do I have the job?” she said.
“What--what job? I mean--doing what?”
Her smile was dazzling. The mirrors caught it, twisted and stretched it.
“Anything I please.”