Gypsy Carnival By Cheryl Anne Gardner

Once upon a time, she begged for bits of stale bread and cheese on the street corner, but now she begs me not to make her wear those worn wooden shoes. She loses her balance, she says; her toes cannot grip the smooth painted surface with the splintered wood standing between her feet and the ball. I told her she had too much advantage in bare feet, that the scavengers hunting for scraps of meat didn’t like feeling cheated or manipulated. She understood this. Their cheering and jeering were enough insult to take. I felt for her then, but we all have a living to make. “Maybe you could paint some daisies on them,” I suggested to her, just before I spun the roulette wheel.

Even now, my age having overtaken me, I can still hear those little wooden shoes clonking away in time to the strumming of the balalaikas.

© 2011 Cheryl Anne Gardner

Cheryl Anne Gardner prefers writing stories to writing bios because she always seems to forget what point of view she is in. When she isn’t writing, she likes to chase marbles on a glass floor, eat lint, play with sharp objects, and make taxidermy dioramas with dead flies. Her flash fiction has been published at Dustbin, Dark Chaos, Carnage Conservatory, Pure Slush, Negative Suck, Danse Macabre, and at The Molotov Cocktail among others. You can find more of her work at Twisted Knickers Publications. She is also the administrative muscle behind this site. If you want to leave her a message, you will have to leave it with the nurse at the front desk. Visiting hours are over.

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