I work at an amusement park where only half of the actors are actual actors. I arranged a meeting with the Mime yesterday, under my friend and co-worker Anne’s supervision.
When I entered the park this morning, I wasn’t sure where this would get me except maybe to a hospital, but one thing was for certain: I was already scared shitless before I even entered the park.
I had to delay my routine with Mr Scratch seeing as I had told Anne I would meet her at nine. I arrived at the park at eight thirty, but I knew that the sock puppet would keep me occupied for well over an hour. Therefore I decided to visit Nathan again.
He was just driving by the entrance to Twin Vale Point when I reached the western town, but stopped the carriage as soon as I came into sight. How times change… He looked rather upbeat and happy to see me and when I approached him, he held out his hand for me to climb aboard. Once I had sat down next to him, I immediately spotted the stork plushie’s head peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.
“So I won’t lose it,” Nathan explained curtly. “Hey, uhm… thanks for bringing it by. I like it a lot. It’s… uh…” his voice trailed off and he blushed.
“It’s your stork, I get it. Dude, I keep a bunny plush in bed with me, I ain’t judging you.” I grinned. “By the way, why were you asleep yesterday? I thought you didn’t need to do that anymore.”
“I do it quite a lot actually. Not because I’m tired but, like, whenever I feel bored or numb, I make myself fall asleep to… you know. Get away from it all for a bit. Sometimes I even have dreams in which I’m not stuck. I love having dreams,” he muttered.
“It’s like eating candy then?” I inquired.
“Yeah. Kinda like that. I’m really surprised Dale gave you the plush by the way. I thought he’d… I don’t know. I thought he’d have thrown it away by now.” He suddenly sounded very gloomy again.
“Nathan… I think Dale loves you. I believe he’s never stopped loving you. He knows you’re suffering and it’s killing him, inside and out. I’m still trying to find out what made him do this, but I can assure you that he did not want it to be this way. Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but I refuse to believe he doesn’t care about you.”
“Yeah, I mean… I guess. But, like, life goes on, right? Life goes on for everyone except me. The thing is, nobody outside of this park cares for me, and inside the park… who is there really except you? Even if Dale cares, he doesn’t show it. One day, you’ll probably be gone and I will still be here. And then no one will be left at all.”
“Don’t you have, like, family or something outside the park who miss you?” I asked.
Nathan grunted and shot me a grim glance. “My parents stopped giving a shit about me when they caught me making out with my quote unquote best buddy. That was long before Dale. They kinda threw me out. I mean, I managed on my own, but… you get what I’m saying. My folks wouldn’t care if I was dead in a ditch. That leaves only you and storkie here in my boat.”
As sad as this was, there was no way of proving him wrong. It made sense and even though the thought was incredibly depressing, I could see where he was coming from. Still, I assured him I wouldn’t let it come to that. I wouldn’t let him die alone.
Soon after, I went to meet with Anne. She was waiting by the entrance to the candyland. She looked very casual in her baggy shirt and sweatpants, her black hair up in a loose bun. She’s right though, why bother with clothes if no one’s gonna see you anyways?
“Good morning,” she greeted me with a happy smile, immediately going in for a hug, squeezing me way too hard. “Aw, it’s been so long since we last had some time to talk! Like, without the others around. I was totally gonna tell you about this cute guy I met a few days ago, but I didn’t because seriously, I do not want Mitchell or Oliver knowing.” She let go of me and grinned. “Those two are je-erks!” she added in a sing-songy voice. “I just now they’ll talk their asses off behind my back. Like two old ladies.”
“If you say so,” I offered with a helpless smile.
“So, why do you wanna meet the Mime anyway?” Anne asked. “I thought he scared you.”
“He does, he totally does. But he’s kinda special and I wanna see if I can get something useful out of him. He seems to be smart, so… I don’t know. Can’t hurt to face your fears.” I grinned, trying not to look as nervous as I actually was.
“You’re so brave,” Anne praised me jokingly, pulling on my ponytail. “I like the new necklace by the way.”
My fingers instinctively wandered to my neck to touch the silver locket. “Thanks,” I muttered. “I got it from a friend.”
“Okay, listen. There’s a small problem here. To talk to the Mime, we need to find him first and if I’m being honest, I don’t know where he hangs out these days,” Anne explained apologetically, letting her gaze travel over our surroundings.
“I saw him near the Sugar Plum Fairy’s stage the other day,” I remarked.
We agreed to go and look there first, but to our disappointment, the only thing we found was the young girl herself, dancing undeterredly as always. Anne suggested we should split up, but I reminded her of the last time we had done so and how well that had worked out for us. We began to search each of the rides in the candy section.
I believe I’ve mentioned before that this section caters mainly to children. This means that most of the rides here are pretty small and cutesy as well, but also that there’s more of them than in the other sections. We checked each of the rides’ entrances as well as the empty wagons waiting in vain to be set into motion, but we couldn’t find him anywhere. That was until Anne suddenly tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the large chain carousel ahead of us.
“Look,” she whispered, “there he is!”
She was right. The Mime was hanging on the chain of one of the swing seats upside down, his neck craned and his eyes transfixed on us. He was watching.
“Okay, so… how do we get him down there?” my friend asked quietly.
“I’m just gonna go up to him. Try to reason with him, you know,” I replied in an equally low voice and Anne nodded. “You’re coming with me though, right? He likes you way better than me.”
“Sure,” she muttered.
We slowly, carefully began approaching the swing, gazes fixated on the pretender. However as soon as we reached the swing he was hanging from, he let out a low hiss and scurried further up the chain.
“Wait! Please,” I called out, raising my hands.
“Yeah, can we, like, talk? Maybe?” Anne asked.
The Mime however didn’t react. He only continued to cling onto the chain, staring at us with narrow, menacing eyes. His lips parted slowly, and the corners of his mouth were pushed up by the spider-like like fangs protruding from it. The sight sent a chill down my spine.
“Remind me why you’re so fond of this monstrosity,” I whispered and Anne shrugged.
“Look, I’d really like for you to help us out here,” she pleaded with the pretender.
The Mime remained in place, hovering several feet above us. His fangs almost seemed to glisten in the sunlight. Thick drops of saliva were dripping down from them, silently hitting the ground to our feet. Then, ever so slowly, he began to descend. His hands reached out to grab onto the chain below him again and again, his clawed fingers tightening around it with an unsettling skillfulness as he climbed down. Bit by bit, he got closer to the ground until he finally swung himself off the chain and stood in front of us.
I held my breath. It looked unnatural, seeing him stand upright with his fangs showing. I regarded him attentively, almost expecting him to get down on all fours and lunge at us or scuttle away again. Anne however seemed less alert.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling brightly at the not-actor.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off of his painted face, this surreal, never-fading smile plastered across his already contorted expression, the chalk-white skin and the large dots below his eyes. Anne nudged me in the side and I finally caught myself again. What did I want to ask him anyways? I suddenly couldn’t remember. Why was I doing this? My heart was hammering in my chest. I admit that for a moment, I just wanted to run.
Instead I took a deep, shaky breath and shrugged off my backpack. Without breaking the pretender’s gaze, I opened it and began to fumble for any of the items I had taken with me. My fingers cramped around the first thing they met with. The iron nail. I pulled it out and held it out for the Mime to see.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but what followed was most certainly not it. The not-actor instantly backed off and opened his mouth to let out a startled hiss that quickly took on a threatening tone. Gripped by a sudden boldness, I took a step forward, attempting to prick him with the nail. He instantly fell silent and let out a whimper of fear as the nail only missed his arm by a few inches.
He leapt up, grabbing the chain of another one of the swing seats and hurriedly started climbing upwards. When he had brought a safe distance between himself and the iron nail, he stared down at us with a panicked malice like a cornered animal. Anne shot me disapproving look while I was still standing there, completely speechless.
“What the hell was that for?” she asked angrily. “You scared the shit out of the poor guy!”
I turned to her, eyes wide. “He’s afraid of the iron,” I uttered breathlessly. “Anne, do you know what that means?”
She frowned in confusion and I shook my head before turning around and dashing off. I just wanted to get away, back home where there were no Mimes. My head was spinning, trying to process this new discovery. The Mime isn’t like the rest of them, he never had been. Was this what Dale had meant when he had told me not to generalize? I passed by the cage of the sock puppet and immediately halted in my tracks. Sometimes, I feel like I get so caught up in trying to figure this thing out that I forget I have an actual responsibility here.
Mr Scratch was idly lying in front of his shelter on the naked ground. When I turned and walked back up to him, he lifted his head at me, only to let in sink again right away, as if to convey his disapproval of me almost forgetting about him. I plopped down next to him and began running my fingers through his fur. It felt comforting. I slowly started to regain my composure, my mind stopped racing and I was once again thinking a bit clearer.
I let go of a soft sigh as I buried my face in his warm, fluffy neck. Suddenly, I noticed a shadow out of the corner of my eye, like that of someone standing behind me. I straightened up and turned around, half expecting it to be my manager, but to my surprise found the Laughing Cowboy towering over me. He looked me up and down before holding out his hand to me. I swallowed, then slowly laid my fingers into his palm and let him pull me to my feet.
“Long time no see,” I stammered.
He nodded, but there was no smile on his lips. He seemed unusually stern. I took a tiny step towards him, but he instantly backed off. I tilted my head. “Are you alright?” I asked. “I… uh… didn’t expect to meet you here. Is this part of the park making you uncomfortable or something?”
No reaction. I bit my lip. This was starting to unsettle me. Then I remembered something. I bent down and picked up my backpack, opening it to produce the old, wood-handled revolver.
“Is… is this yours?” I uttered, holding it out for him to see.
He stared at it for a moment, his eyes widening and darting from me to the revolver resting in my palm, then back to me. He seemed apprehensive, or perhaps even… afraid. I took a deep breath and, in a shaky voice, asked, “Did someone hurt you with this?”
He opened his mouth and I could see his black tongue nervously licking over his teeth. His gaze was now fixed onto the weapon. He stood as still as a statue for around five seconds, then he suddenly spun around and took off.
“Wait!” I called after him. “I wasn’t gonna hurt you!”
I quickly shoved the gun back into my backpack before sprinting after him. I felt genuinely terrible. I had not meant to upset him in any way, I hadn’t expected him to react like this. He was running towards the entrance to Twin Vale Point. I tried to follow him, but suddenly became aware of the agonizing pain in my side. Against my every urge, I had to stop chasing after him. I was left standing alone in the middle of the street, my hand pressed against my side, trying to suppress the stinging. I swear, this job is going to drive me crazy some day.
I called Mitchell to let him know that I had upset his not-actor. He told me it was probably no big deal and that he would take care of it once he would return to the park the next day. Afterwards, I went about the rest of my duties with Mr Scratch and then returned home sometime in the afternoon.
I’m wondering if the Mime is a faerie. It sure would fit in my opinion, with the fear of iron and his irritability and all. I mean, there has to be a reason for him acting so vastly different from the other not-actors. Then again, I always imagined the fair folk to be… less animalistic, if that makes sense.
I’m also starting to believe that their response to iron truly is what differentiates the pretenders from one another, even though I’m still not sure of how to interpret this aspect. A little later in the evening, I got a text from my manager.
It read, “Hi.” Nothing else, just hi. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this casual tone we have newly adopted.
“Hi back,” I responded. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Just wanted to know if you figured out that pretenders aren’t actually a monolith already.”
“Is this about the Mime? I don’t think I understand yet,” I texted back.
The messenger displayed him typing for about five minutes straight, but when he finally responded again, he just did so with one of these emojis that roll their eyes. “You better start making sense of it then. There’s only so many hints I can give you and that limit’s been reached for today, I think.” His text was followed by an image of his open mouth. I grimaced when I noticed that his tongue was bleeding.
I don’t really want any more clues from Dale. If I don’t figure this out on my own, who knows what they’ll have him do to himself next. The poor guy is enough of a threat to himself as it is. I need to speed this up somehow. The prospect of maybe having to get even closer to the not-actors frightens me, but then again, I’ve got my necklace, my whip and my revolver, so what’s the worst thing that can happen to me?
This sort of makes me wonder. I mean, for real, what is the worst thing that could happen?