TCOTNK 10 The Day
TCOTNK 10 The Day
A huge buzz ensued. Nobody knew about that plan. Really nobody. Not even Scarlotte had known before she spoke. She felt her heart skip a beat.
The day
During the next morning's bath, the thin layer of fog above the ripples their swimming bodies sent across the surface, was pushed aside by a dark shadow. Only sporadically a pleasure yacht passed by on the river. Sometimes a canoe, but usually there were no vessels. And certainly not a Viking ship with a dragon bow cutting high through the fog.
"I'm hallucinating," Michelangelo said. The black tarred wood floated slowly alongside. Very quiet. The single mast towered above them. The red sail was drawn up on the crossbar. Dark lines plunged down to the edge. Scarlotte was already on land and was pinching her hair when Michelangelo was almost drowned by a huge naked Viking who dropped like a bomb a few feet next to him. The man came up spluttering with the mooring line in his hand. It was James.
"Hey brother, I was just about to dock my boat," he said, gasping for breath from the cold. “when I saw that Siren in the mist....”
Michelangelo's teeth chattered. He needed to get out.
Scarlotte was just pulling herself into her pants as the two men climbed ashore. With twinkling eyes, she followed James as he ran ashore to straighten his ship's line. Michelangelo dried himself shivering. Slightly jealous of Captain Cook's body of the gods. But also amazed at the craft that would be a wonderful addition to the field of the imagination. James braced himself to redirect the last bit of speed of the colossus toward the riverside.
"He's pretty, isn't he?" he shouted to Scarlotte with a flirtatious smile. The three meter-high Viking ship scraped to a halt. Exactly on the stretch of sandy bank opposite the dike road. About twenty meters before the jetty. He tied the line to the only tree on the bank and James folded his arms contentedly. Looking up at his ship. Nice operation Michelangelo thought.
James came walking back through the tall grass. Proud and stark naked.
"It's just a pity," he said, pointing to Michelangelo as he walked toward them, "that the Siren is putting his clothes back on."
He gave Scarlotte a teasing elbow, pulled the carefully wrapped towel off her head and began to dry himself with it. "Fock," he said, "how do I get to my clothes without a ladder?"
Drawing a lot of attention he walked between the two of them back to his sleeping place on the camping field. He beamed at the whoops and whistles.
'Such a shame,' he said to his companions before he ducked into his tent, 'that the meltwater has shriveled things up so much.'
That morning's circle was bigger than ever. Scarlotte usually kicked things off with a list of wishes. Despite the amazing things that happened, the list only seemed to get longer. Including one point she preferred not to say aloud. Ticket sales got off to a bad start, or actually hardly at all. They were several hundred sold. Really way too little. If word got out, the merchants, suppliers and artists would drop out. She saw in the last few days that Joe started to sag and decided to do something about it. Scarlotte was not frightened. She decided to take a chance. So when the hands closed the circle, she immediately spoke.
“What we're making here,” she spoke slowly and clearly, “is beginning to show. And it's going to be a-mazing!' Satisfied agreement rumbled through the group as she looked around. The light in her chest came on.
“Sorry,” she went on clearly disappointed, “I guess you international suckers didn’t get what I just said. What we - you and the ones next to you - are - making - here - is - fuh - king - aah - maaah - zingh!”
Now they were at least no longer asleep. Scarlotte pranced into the circle and took the cheering unimpressed. Waited patiently until they calmed down. And then waited a bit more. Slowly turning on her heels.
“Well,” she said loudly, stretching the word, “there is a big but!”
Scarlotte let the stale jokes drain away unmoved and kept the tension alive.
“Most of what is in the making here is invisible.”
Bringing it as if she shared a secret.
“I... can see it. You... can see it. And here’s the but...... nobody else can!”
Now she sounded accusative. It was very quiet. While turning she looked them in the eye one by one randomly.
“You know what the problem is? Do you? Do you guys and gals know what the biggest problem is with this whole little world of ours?”
Now she really gave it an uneasy tone of strictness. A bit too much, some seemed to think. But she added some more weight. Now turning full volume loudness. And she broke the circle. Climbed with a few strides on top of the green Jeep waiting for her. From the roof rack, almost hysterical she yelled, without compromising the message.
“NO-BO-DY-KNOWS!”
Angry and fiery she sounded. Her chest heaving, eyes piercing. She let it simmer for a while. Let the stone thrown send its growing circles outward. Then her normal voice took over.
“And it’s because what we do here is all make believe. Are you aware of that? The main problem of the whole operation down here is that it is all nothing but make believe. And you know what? I am proud of that. That’s why I’m here. Imagining a world that’s better, more loving, less abuse, more giving, less taking. Making things that serve us and not serving things we make. That is my make believe. My imaginary world. My build-it-and-they-will-come dream of one day. That day is today. So the question is what are you going to make today? Last week a dragon was born, this morning a viking ship arrived, and later today we start building the biggest medieval dungeon in history.”
A huge buzz ensued. Nobody knew about that plan. Really nobody. Not even Scarlotte had known before she spoke. She felt her heart skip a beat. But the blazing sun within her made up for that. It continued to grow unchanged. She suddenly realized what she was doing and a huge smile broke on her face. She put her hands on her hips. And looked like a general after the victory of the battle.
“So, I ask again. What are you going to make? I know,” she added quickly, 'you are going to make believe!'
They forgot to applaud or shout so breathlessly they had been listening. There was a little half-clapping. Not sure if the circle was done yet. Because it was different than usual. They were mostly checking back and forth. Viking ship? Scarlotte stood looking down at them with a strange mix of uncertainty and contentment in her stomach. She tried to gauge whether it had gotten through, but gave up after a few seconds. It didn't matter anymore.
Go to work you suckers! Let the world know!” She said and started to climb down.
"Oh, of course you can do breakfast first."
But hardly anyone heard that last remark.
A tall man reached out to help her down.
"Hey Charlotte, I assume I don't have to ask if you're okay. Wow. I have a tendency to bow to you.”
It took her a second, then she saw it.
"Chris!"
She threw her arms around the tall man's neck.
"Sick," she said, "how did you get here?"
“Well,” he said, “I drove that green pedestal here. I was nearby.”
She looked at the jeep she had just clambered down from. Only now she recognized her taxi to the festival.
“Nearby?” she asked suspiciously. "Is that why you traded your rose cart for that sickly ugly caravan?"
He made a guilty face. "I may stay and help out for a few days," he said, "if you still need volunteers?"
Joe had joined them. Together with a whole bunch of others who all suddenly wanted to ask Scarlotte a lot of questions. But she firmly dismissed them.
“Don't ask the messenger,” she said, “go find out for yourself.”
Most of them skedaddled. Joe made it clear with an unmistakable gesture that he wasn't done with her yet. Scarlotte blew him a kiss. Which he caught without breaking eye contact, then he roughly bit off a chunk of it.
She gave Chris an arm and led him away from the crowd.
"So," she said, "you want to volunteer?"
They sauntered onto the grounds.
'You should know that we only want people who can actually do something.' she said very seriously.'
"Mmm," said Chris, "maybe I can do imaginary things."
"That's convenient," she said, "that's exactly what we need."
They were followed. Someone chased them like a stray dog.
"Josh?" Scarlotte looked at him. He looked determined. And that suited him.
'I help with waste processing, material flow,' he said answering the question from last time, more than a week ago. It sounded like an explanation for his presence.
"Oh, okay," said Scarlotte, "you're doing a good job."
He agreed, nodding. Then he fell silent.
Then suddenly he held up his laptop.
Josh looked weirdly guilty. For a moment she thought he would confess to stealing it. But that wasn’t it.
"I should have asked first," he said, his face stiff.
Josh opened his computer and handed her his metallic blue headphones.
"But yesterday," he continued, "I uploaded it."
The screen flickered on. He pointed to the number of views of a video. Just under a hundred thousand. Scarlotte looked at him. Now he kind of laughed.
"It's called the red dance."
She put on the headphones.
He had filmed her.
And what she saw brought tears to her eyes.
It was so beautiful. The sound pushed her back to that night.
He edited it perfectly. Truly a masterpiece. Slow motion poetry. You could feel the heat of the fire. Wonderfully good sound. Immersive. No wonder it was watched. It was wild and sensual. And he had referred to the festival. The comments below were one big buzz. Her gaze grew increasingly blurred as she read.