Post by izzy on Jun 15, 2011 12:55:53 GMT -5
IN YOUR HEAD, IN YOUR HEAD
T H E Y A R E S T I L L F I G H T I N G
Noise wasn't one of Esmeralda's pet peeves. Especially sounds like the loud and consistent soundtrack of a carnival. Growing up in a caravan had been far from peaceful. Esme never knew what it was like to have her own separate room upstairs and away from the rest of the home. She didn't know what it was like to live in a suburbs where people didn't constantly walk outside your motor home or yell hello through the window. Privacy was not a part of the gypsy way of living. Esmeralda's family had been tiny compared to the average Roma household. All of her family friends and relatives had four to ten kids running around the camp. So peacefulness was a concept as foreign to her as the country people's way of life. However, a crowded area with loved ones talking over each other while kids playfully screamed and yelled was her version of peace. Though it certainly qualified as hell for most. So at the carnival, she felt some sembalance of home. Though it was a weak comparision which only made her chest ache somewhat more as she thought of the Roma camp. Esmeralda stood against the railing of the pier and listened to the high pitched music from the carnival rides.
Kids squealed in joy as their ride of choice took them over the next dip. Likewise she could hear a few crying kids not far off. No doubt their time on the ride had come to an end, much to their displeasure. And of course the endless stream of chatter from passerbys. Esme silently watched as her peers passed without a word. Some she recognized from campus, though she was sure none recognized her. She did a good job of keeping to herself. The waves crashing below the pier managed to add a peacefulness to the otherwise chaotic racket. The gypsy wasn't too used to oceans. Sure there were some in France, but she had never gone to them. Her father had told her what the sea was like from his childhood in Spain. But, it hardly did the real thing justice. The brunette watched the waves lap the wooden beams for another few minutes before she decided it was time to move. Esmeralda's attention span wasn't quite enduring, there had to be constant movement or activity. Probably why she enjoyed dance so much or perhaps dance had conditioned her to this lifestyle. The brunette passed the multiple food booths without a glance.
Though the smell of cotton candy, turkey leg, and indian fry bread was intoxicating, Esme had gotten used to eating as little as possible. Food was surprisingly expendable when a person is living on a dime. However, the game booths did make her pause and stare curiously. Her uncle had worked as a game booth operater whenever they were in town for a carnival. She knew a few of the tricks but not too many, he was always worried she would go and tell her friends. Esmeralda stopped at one in particular, the plate smashing booth. One her uncle had never told her about. Each person was given a softball to throw at the plates. Easy right? Well some plates didn't smash, instead they gave with the throw and often bounced back easily. Obviously the owner had some form of plastic or paper plate there, but it was impossible for Esme to tell the difference. If someone knew how to spot the real plates it would be easy to beat the game. Against her better judgement, Esmeralda put down five bucks for three throws. The first throw managed to smash a plate, much to her amusement. She was on a roll with the second throw. But, she aimed the third straight for a faux plate.
"What's the trick?" The woman asked aloud as she glared at the plates. Of course the owner wouldn't answer that, they never did. This was their livelihood after all. And people typically didn't like them for their 'cons'. Carnie's were very much worse than gypsies in the states. Sometimes they were gypsies. But, if the games were made easy to make people feel better it would be easy to lose money for the operator and lose interest for the player. Esmeralda was far from annoyed with the owner, just the game. She put down another five dollars, this time she was going to get three plates.
( words seven hundred and thirty five ) ( tags open ) ( lyrics "zombie" by the cranberries ) ( credit this template was made by zee (a.k.a. FLUNK IS A FOUR LETTER WORD of caution 2.0) )
WHEN THE VIOLENCE CAUSES SILENCE
W E M U S T B E M I S T A K E N[/center]