The Fasnachat (Finish The Story Entry)

Opening by @f3nix

In the eyes of the couple, the slate-paved street of the village revealed a cornucopia of crafts, sweets and jubilant peasants. Along the noisy main street, colourful festoons hung from the balconies of typical mountain houses, made of solid stone and original woodwork. The buildings themselves, due to the abundance of decorations, seemed to curve over the long snake of stalls.

There had been an imperceptible moment of silence when the two had laid their feet on the dark pavement of the village, nothing but a quick counterpoint to underline the next wave of noise of the festival in its full becoming.

It had been enough to turn left on the path between the conifers marked by the navigator and their journey had moulted with grey scales now transformed into coloured harlequin’s diamonds.

"Fasnachat".

That bizarre writing on a shaky sign had tickled their imagination.

"If Google had reported this village party we could have left two hours earlier."

At her voice’s sound, Ben instinctively thought of two Dolce & Gabbana sneakers on the 100 meters starting blocks.

"A break cannot hurt us, but let's not forget about our timetable," he replied, not without a trail of scepticism in his voice.

Ben's senses captured fragrances, widened eyes and inebriated laughter. That joy was as disruptive as it was contagious.

"We do not need to remind ourselves of what it means being late for Grandma Maude's birthday dinner," he said, turning to his wife, whose hand was already wriggling from his, ready to compulsively stuff the car with the many bits and bobs offered by the fair.

Debated between the growing curiosity and the thought of his father-in-law blaming him for the delay, Ben had not even noticed that he had already lost sight of Joelle.

Like a pebble escaping the river’s current, the flow of the crowd had carried him in the middle of a small square dominated by a soaring wooden stage. An acute, strangely cacophonous, chant of stringed instruments enlivened a typical traditional group dance, where couples slapped each other’s feet and bodies.

Under the ever more pounding rhythm of the dance, among almost hypnotized and swaying villagers, his eyes increasingly focused on the show.

For a moment, he thought he saw Joelle surrounded by villagers who invited her to eat something viscidly black. The substance seemed to smear the white aprons and faces of the women, perhaps even that of Joelle who had joined them in a wild chortle. She seemed so lighthearted and it felt good. There was one thing Ben could not remember and squatted in the back of his head, but maybe it wasn’t that important.

He returned to plunge into the dance: it was simply wonderful. He felt he could not miss a movement, not even a note. He smiled at the villagers as a strange heat flared up inside him. An empty and collective smile painted back on the villagers’ gaunt faces.

In a frayed embryo of thought, Ben recorded the distant verses of Joelle, who, strangely, had fused together in a long animal bleating.

---

My Ending

He caught fleeting fragments of her dancing through the laden stalls. Her flowing hair. The print of her dress. He tried to force the vision, to see her, but the fog of the carnival clouded his mind.

In the familiar midst of music, the clack of clogs on cobbles, he thought he heard her jingling laugh. Ben span round, stumbling into a parade of dancers, tassels rippled across their hips in ebbing waves.

He stopped, entranced by the synchronised sway.

A sudden coldness gripped his every hair.

Hollow, smiling faces, smeared in a thick sticky black that filled their very eyes, stared out of the crowd. The plunging depths called to him.

A sickened feeling lurched inside him, there was something he needed to remember...

In that instant, the harmony of the carnival had fallen silent. It rushed back, the spinning women turning their returned merry faces towards him.

The crowd embraced in, catching him in the current of joyous celebration as his episode passed.

---

Between shadows of fluttering flags, Ben caught sight of Joelle.

Her face pushed through the haze.

“Ben?”

He turned to her, she gripped a hand full of bags.

“You have to see this stall!”

She took his hand, threading through the crowd. The drum beats quickened the pace, for a moment, Ben felt his heart beat outside his chest.

He glanced around, smeared black faces, sticky pitted eyes, stretched watery smiles, closed in around him. Through the blackness of their gaze, he felt a faint echo.

Joelle’s oblivious hand tugged him, and turning to face her, the hearty swing of the carnival rippled back with the music. He shook his head, shaking away the sensation, letting exhaustion of a rigid timetable drift away.

---

“See Ben, white absinthe would be perfect for tonight!”

The creamy liquid sloshed opalescent, the shifting silver twisted and span with shapes and faces.

Joelle tipped the bottle, the liquid glinting, and for a moment, it swirled thick blackness. His wife beamed at him hopefully.

“Your Grandma Maude loves to feel spoilt”

Ben eyed the stallholder, his shabby clothes ill-fitting for his fine array of shimmering bottles.

“How much?”

Judging by the bulging bags, Joelle had already done the damage.

“25 sir, best price for such good customer”

Ben raised his eyebrows, quite sure that wasn’t the case.

“El, if we get this, can we go? This music’s making my head spin”

Joelle flashed him a cheeky smile, it wasn’t like she could carry much more.

“Sure, we’ll take three!”

Ben glanced at his watch, starting a little as he realised the hour he’d spent dancing to music he swore he knew.

Joelle guided him back through the throngs. They ducked past the raised arms of parents, lifting children to see the dancers skimming through the crowd. The shared sense of glee resonated through Ben as Joelle pulled him past.

Something tugged deep at the back of his mind, as though his thoughts were being yanked from the moment.

Suddenly they cleared the crowd, stumbling into an empty side street.

“Phew! We’re parked just round the corner...”

---

Ben took the country lanes of his youth automatically. They weren’t late, and as much as he didn’t want to miss the party, something pulled inside him. His gut twisted, floating behind his ribs.

A darkness in his peripheral vision drew his eyes from the road.

Joelle sat next to him, her eyes black pools of sticky motion, her face smeared in a dark thick substance that dripped from her lips.

“Ben?”

As her mouth moved, her skin rippling in emanating waves. The blackness was gone, the face he loved smiled back at him.

“Yeah?”

“Everything all right?”

He could almost hear the elongated drip of the viscous liquid from her lips.

Ben slammed the brakes, the car coming to a shrill stop, bags throwing their contents across the seats. The orbed bottle rolled across a swath of fabric, resting behind gasping Joelle’s headrest. The white writing barely visible against the shining contest.

"Fasnachat"

It had hit him. He remembered.

A strange distant look held his face as he reached for the corked silvery liquor.

It was with a deep and sincere respect, I tiptoed past the wisdom and vitamin boosting deity @bananafish, and his 500 word limit, and it was with even more respect, I kept going. That counts right? About 650 without formatting, but I had finished on about 950, so I'm amazed I got it down this far. Hopefully I haven't hacked at it too much and the faint thread remains intact. Another really fun one to tackle, so much to pick on, i really hope I got most of it! I wonder if anyone can tell what my overall conclusions were. I had been very tempted by dark fairies and their notorious raucous parties, but I feel like we will get a fair few sexy fairy illusions and indulgences, and this is the one that came out in the end

My Entry to the prestigious Finish The Story Contest hosted over at the @bananafish - if you haven't encountered this elusive deity, it blesses writers with ideas, prompts and upvotes, drop it a follow to get in on the action! The first half was written by the ever talented banana whisperer himself @f3nix and you can find all the endings under #finishthestory

Photo Credit by Flickr user Spektoral Addendum who has such stunning textures and atmospheric images, I have saved the link!