WONDERFULLAND  

  Harry Lork paused to curse his stupidity. Stupid for listening to George, for being here, for being anywhere at all on vacation with those three. Those three: wife, son, daughter. They stood away from him down the crunch gravel path, waiting like an impatient firing squad. Harry had hurried ahead of them until he reached the huge boulder, had pretended to empty his shoes of phantom pieces of gravel, had bent to linger over re-tying his shoelaces.

The things you do to get away from them for only a short time.

He squinted down the path. Donny whined in that nerve scraping voice, reciting his litany of wants. Betty, momentarily out-whined, punctuated her list of needs with vicious kicks at the gravel which sprayed the area in a showering arc. Through it all stood Angela The Rock. Yes Donny daddy will take you on all the rides, yes Betty baby daddy will buy you candy ice cream popcorn peanuts jelly apples. Yes we'll find a bathroom yes we'll stay late. Yes yes everything.

To confirm this Angela swung her terrible gaze up to Harry. She posed, hands on hips, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched, foot scuffing the ground. No words were necessary. Harry took a deep breath, rising slowly, and leaned on the boulder. He pushed his weight against it, a hopeless gesture, imagining it move and roll, seeing it gather momentum. The two little whiners would freeze, he knew, daring it to touch them even through their fear. Angela would gape, eyes rolling, would thrust out her arms to stop it in its tracks. And the boulder would catch the three of them frozen in their horror of realization, would flatten them right out of his life.

He sighed, dragging himself down the path.

Dusk blanketed the woods like fog. Mingling light and dark tricked the eyes. There were shapes in the trees that loomed and then were gone in a shift of shading. They stopped at a fork and Donny and Betty chatted at each other like angry birds over which path to take. Angela soothed, making more promises Harry would have to keep. And he would have to choose the right path. Whatever his choice, it would be wrong. He closed his eyes, seeing this new trap. Right or left, one of the children would sulk, whine, cry, stamp a foot. Angela would coddle the loser, shoot Harry that pinched look. The winner would smirk.

BuzzzzPing!

At first Harry thought his mind had snapped. The sudden sound made him want to grab his skull to keep the brain matter from leaking out. BuzzzzPing! The flash of red washing over the grass choked the cry of panic bubbling in his throat. With a low crackle the color faded, leaving behind a kaleidoscope of white spots dancing across his vision. BuzzzzPing! Harry glanced up. Gouged into the mountainside, visible for miles, was a sign in block letters twelve feet high.

WONDERFULLAND.

He forced his eyes away to look at his family. The children were quiet. Angela seemed to be in a stupor. Mesmerized by the blinking neon, faces as blank as when they watched television. The sign flicked on, bathing them in blood, flicked off. BuzzzzPing! Harry coughed, breaking the spell. Angela struck her pose.

"Well? Which way?"

The children renewed their battle, each choosing a path, their wails echoing through the woods. Harry cursed himself again, cursed George. He was trapped between the neon whose sound shivered along his veins, and his children whose animal howl-and-dance gripped his skull like a vise. His mind was sliding over the edge of sanity and again he was convinced that it was about to snap like a twig. But once again his slide was checked. A low voice penetrated the dusk.

"Both paths lead to The Magic Village, where all lives change, and nothing is what it seems!"

The Lork family blinked in unison. Atop a low hanging tree branch stood an odd creature. It grinned, and jumped to the ground on light cat feet. The bells on its cap jingled. The diamond pattern on its skintight costume was slightly askew, as though carelessly made. There was a mask, or was it paint that covered and blurred the face except for the eyes. The eyes glinted with an odd smoky light.

"Who's that?," Betty demanded.

"I am...Jester," he said, spinning into a little dance.

Harry didn't see his feet touch the gravel, nor did he hear a crunch of landing. No one else seemed to notice.

"You look dumb," Donny said nastily.

"Now baby, be nice to the...man...," Angela cooed, obviously agreeing with her son.

"Don't wanna, wanna go on the rides!"

"Rides, games, candy, everything!," Jester cried, spinning again. "Things you never imagined!"

Harry stared hard at his feet. It had to be an illusion, a trick of the growing shadows that made it look as though they were off the ground.

"Young man, will you tell us which path to take, as usual my husband can't make a decision."

"This one this one!," Donny shouted.

"No no this one!," Betty screamed.

Jester raised his hands straight up, fists closed. "Both lead to The Magic Village, to the very same spot! A race! Who will arrive first! Mother and daughter on one path, father and son on the other, to the winners a prize! And the magic will change your lives!"

His fingers unfurled. A confetti shower of white crystals exploded in his hands, floated above them for a moment, then fell in a blizzard. Harry was untouched.

"Hey you made me dirty!" Betty aimed a kick at Jester's shins but as close as she was, she missed. She was shocked into silence. Donny snarled, bending to scoop up handfuls of gravel to throw, while Angela brushed frantically at her clothes. The confetti clung to her.

"Young man, you have your nerve..."

Jester glided backward to the tree where they had first seen him. A glittering eye winked at Harry, blinding him, and a whisper sung along his veins. "The race, make them race." And he eased into the shadows.

"Harry," Angela warned, brushing, "I want you to report that...person to the management...where is he!"

Armed with pebbles, the children thrashed through the bushes behind the tree. Harry moved to the path, surprised by the timbre of his voice. "I'll get there first."

With a shout the children flung away their pebbles and each careened down a path. Angela fixed her awesome stare on Harry. "You'll hear about this..."

"Better follow Betty in case she gets lost."

She peered into the darkness, shivered, and broke into a waddling trot, calling her daughter's name loudly.

Harry strolled, his senses alert. Dense trees canopied the path, yet the farther in he walked the lighter it seemed. A soft soothing light, pushing the shadows back. In vain he searched for its source. He listened to the absence of sound. It was odd, but not disturbing. A few times he thought he saw movement, in front of him or off the path. Once he saw Jester waiting, arms folded, head motioning for him to come. Unable to resist the impulse Harry lowered his shoulder and charged, but when he stopped and looked around he was alone. He strolled again. The image of George's face in the garage floated before him. That beefy face, serene for once.

"Comon George, a vacation's a vacation, and with my family it's a blood bath."

"Depends on where you go..."

"Comon George."

George smiled that beatific smile and called to his three children. Harry braced himself for the onslaught but was astounded. They came at once, quiet and shy. They were polite, called him sir, smiled their father's smile. Three faces, once masked by perpetual anger and defiance, now radiant. Harry resisted the impulse to lean down and gather them in his arms. George shooed them outside as Harry found his voice.

"What the hell..."

"Wonderfulland."

"I don't get it."

"You will. There's one thing, though."

"It figures."

George ignored him, thoughtful. "Since we got back Marge's been kind of moody, you know? Weepy. Stares at the kids like she doesn't know them. It's still better than having her nag all the time, but soon as I get a few days off we're going back to Wonderfulland and it'll all fall into place..." And he smiled that beatific smile.

The same chill that had knifed his shoulder blades in George's garage cut through him. He’d studied the children playing, oblivious to everyone and everything around them, moving through their summer days like...ghosts. He’d observed Marge, brooding, puzzled, uncertain. Lost. And George kept smiling and whistling and losing weight and looking healthier.

The path widened to ear assaulting sound and riot of garish color. Harry sighed and stepped out into the park. They were waiting, the children screeching, Angela looming up to vent her rage. "Hurry kids, lots to do!" They ran ahead, spurred by the manic strength of his voice. Angela swiveled her head from their retreating backs to his face. "Oh you'll hear about this, believe me..." She ran too.

As he moved through the crowd he searched for Jester but was distracted. He stopped, frowning, suddenly aware of the other children. There were two groups, separate and distinct, one like his own children, raucous, unmanageable, hyperactive. The other group reminded him of George's kids, smiling, docile, well mannered. He shook his head, blinked, and the sea of children swirled around him.

Then the sea parted and he saw Jester. He stood grinning his crooked grin in front the entrance to a long squat structure, a rectangular tunnel. There was no ticket booth, no sign to show what kind of ride it was. Harry thought he heard sounds inside. Jester motioned to the Lork family.

"Free," he said to Harry, winking. "For the kiddies."

Donny and Betty strained to peer past the darkened entrance but Jester danced.

"What's in there?", Donny demanded.

"Adventure, excitement, magic! Come, walk through, it's free!"

"You're the one who dirtied us," Angela accused, still brushing at the confetti clinging to her dress. "What kind of ride is this, I don't want my children in there!"

Jester ignored her, chanting, daring the children. "You'll never know, you'll never believe until you see, until you walk through..." He turned his glittering eyes to Harry and whispered. "The chance of a lifetime!"

Harry's skin tingled. "Comon kids, you're not scared, are you?"

Challenged again, they plunged into the blackness, shouting. Angela was flabbergasted, her reactions frozen. Before she could recover Jester was blending with the dark.

"Meet them at the other end, you'll see..."

Harry moved slowly along the wall, holding his breath, listening, his fingers brushing across the warped, gnarled wood. Angela followed, berating him with a steady stream of insults, which he ignored. Suddenly she stopped. "Did you hear?"

"What?"

"Was that Donny? Is Betty calling us?"

He pressed his ear to the wall. Faraway, muffled cries of mommydaddy climbed up the scale until they were shrieks, howls. Harry heard them, recognized them. The sheer terror and agony of those bloodcurdling screams made the hair on his neck bristle. He turned. Angela's eyes were round beacons of fright. She threw herself at the wall, clawing the wood. "Help my babies, they're being murdered!"

Passersby stopped to stare. Harry pulled her away. "It's a trick, don't you see, a funhouse trick, the kids are fine..."

She lurched away from him, running to the other end. He followed leisurely, listening to the screams, diminishing now like sirens winding down. His blood sang. At the exit he found Angela wringing her hands, keening, poised to race inside. He reached out to stop her and at that instant the children came out.

"Oh my god!" She smothered them, inspected their faces, their bodies. And they hugged her, gave her little kisses. They saw Harry and came to him, little hands reaching out. He held his breath. They clutched his hands, smiling.

"See," he said, finding his voice, "they're fine, aren't you, kids?"

"Yes daddy," Betty said. He loved that sweet voice.

"Yes daddy," Donny said. His well-mannered big boy.

"What's wrong with them!" Angela squatted on her heels, shook them, stared puzzled at their serene faces. She touched, shook, tugged.

"Nothing's wrong mommy, we're fine," they chorused.

Harry stepped back and sensed something behind him. He turned to face Jester. "What did...?" He closed his mouth, shook his head. He gazed at his children and his agitated wife. "If only there was a ride like that for...grownups," he whispered.

"But there is!" Harry's eyes jerked back to the unsmiling, masked face. "It's a bit...experimental, but..."

The face split in a mad grin. "Life's rewards are meaningless without risk! Come and see!"

For a moment Harry stood very still. Then he nodded at something in the distance. "Comon kids, bring mommy and let's have fun."

Jester spun into the crowd, laughing. "More magic awaits! Follow me!"

The children obediently took their mother's hands, urging her up and forward. Her face was slack with bewilderment. Harry followed, whistling softly. Oh yes, he'd have to tell George to get away soon. Marge's moodiness would vanish like magic.

Robert Marazas previously published the short story, "The Duck" in C/Oasis.

Contact Robert F. Marazas at: seagoat1@earthlink.net

June 27, 2002
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