Midnight Fantasy on Dreamland

"...If this street, if this street were mine...

...I'd have it, I'd have it tiled...

...With shiny pebbles, with shiny pebbles...

...For my, for my love to pass..."

― Have you heard? Dreamland World will have a new owner.

― Who would want to inherit that place? I heard that clowns kidnap people to kill them.

The fog becomes dense, plunging across the park being able to hide people.

"...In this street, in this street there's a forest...

...Which is called, which is called solitude...

...Inside it, inside it lives an angel...

...Who stole, who stole my heart..."

― Wow, that's him, Mommy! Look, he's up there. He looks like an angel!

― So beautiful... Are you single? Benjin, you're awesome!

"...If I stole, if I stole your heart...

...you stole, you stole mine too...

...If I stole, if I stole your heart...

...It's because, it's because I love you..."

The applause from the audience, the screams and admiration that directed the artists on stage was the core of that place. When the night came, everyone was welcomed into the huge tent where another show would begin. Popcorn, candy and sodas at the ready.

It was show time.

...⋈...

In a crowded house bar, a band performed. The loud sound of the drums and guitars drove the audience crazy, who sang along with the singer of which seemed to deliver his own soul on that microphone. The small stage did not allow much movement on the part of the musicians, however the singer could go from one end to the other, climb in boxes and interact with his small audience.

Mixing authorial songs and covers, that small band showed its ability with clamour. It was certain that the audience applauded their final, raising beer bottles toasting the beautiful presentation that those four young people presented them.

It was past one in the morning when the four boys came down from the stage sweating and panting. The smiles on their faces were overwhelming proof of the pleasure they felt in touching together once again.

― Here guys, cold beer for you and... ― Smile the owner of the bar holding three bottles of beer sliding them over the counter, having the guys holding them promptly. For the last member of the band, the singer, the tall trans woman delivered a cup of steaming aluminum ― Warm milk for our handsome guy.

― Blessed are your divine hands, Betinha.

The singer opened a wide smile by holding the cup and lifting it in a silent thank you. The smell of honey mixed with warm milk did not match in any way with a bar like that, although the boy did not seem to care about such detail. He drank a sip carefully, feeling the heat relax his scratchy throat.

Oh... what a delight!

― Have you done any vocal training? Your voice sounded different tonight. ― Wanted to know the owner of the bar, preparing a drink upon receiving the request of one of the waiters.

― I've seen something on the internet. Did it get bad?

The grimace of the boy made the woman roll her eyes and laugh denying with her head. It was remarkable his effort that night, the owner of the bar had to lean a little to hear the boy who was hoarse. Still, his voice was good to hear.

― On the contrary, I think this was one of the best performances that night.

― Hey! Miss Berta, could you get us some snacks, don't you think?

― I look like a maid, Mr Rafael? ― The woman complained to the guitarist, who extended even more his stupid smile. So shameless that the woman tried not to smile ― Will be fried with cheddar for now.

― You are so awesome!

The singer had let out a low laugh while taking another sip of his hot milk with honey, having fun with friends who soon entered the same mood as the other customers of the bar. One beer after another, screaming and playing pranks to end the night splendours. Conversations parallel to games, drinks in hand and so the zum zum zum began.

But for that vocalist, the usual things didn't seem so interesting. He was usually the most excited, the one who screamed the most without giving up on raising the spirits of his friends. He was tired of jumping on the small stage, and that warm milk relaxed him to the brim. Or were the sleepless nights of recent weeks? While enjoying his exclusive drink, he looked at the plasma television without sound, where he passed a newspaper story.

― Hey, Leo!

The female voice won not only the attention of the singer, but also the entire band and even Berta. The smile from before had been replaced by sad faces of the boys, having only the singer to look at the girl who addressed him a affable smile.

He was definitely not prepared to talk to her again. Not after the storm created when he caught his then girlfriend with another guy. And even worse, the former vocal of the band. He had just stopped wearing the band that wrapped the scar on his right hand. But there she was, looking like a porcelain doll.

― How have you been? Sang well today... ― Said the woman with delicate robes and light brown hair straightened. ― I'd heard you weren't in the band anymore, but I see it was just a rumour.

― We did not give up this vocal, but not fucking! ― Smile the bassist hugging the friend vocalist by the shoulder.

The woman laughed by fixing a wick behind her ear. That was when a tall, muscular man appeared behind her, passing his arm over her shoulder directing a sharp look at the singer.

― Eh, who is alive always appears. What is it there? Cognac?

The singer lowered his eyes to the cup almost empty, without answering. Just turned the rest of the content and extended the cup to the owner of the bar.

― Could you do one more? My throat's still a little scratched.

― As you wish, my dear, another warm milk with honey.

― Warm milk? What big baby ― Laughed the muscular man. ― Did he ever regress after being changed?

― Alex, will you please...

The members of the band, and even Miss Berta, widened their eyes when the sensitive subject was touched. The singer only accompanied the owner of the bar finish heating the milk and mix some honey in the aluminum cup before delivering the order. Holding his fingers, the boy opened a sneaky smile.

― I don't want to make the same mistake as our old vocal. ― Smile the boy turning to the bully. ― You both deserve each other. A traitor and an alcoholic.

The blush took the cheeks of the woman, whose last relationship had been with the singer of the band. Had two months ended? Probably. The boy seemed to have overcome the relationship, given the lively presentation he had made minutes before.

― What?

― Big boy... if you get trouble in my bar again, I'll make it a point to bury you in jail. ― Warned the owner of the bar, with a menacing look that would be able to create a sharp knife of ice at that very moment.

The thug growled in response, pulling his girlfriend away from the band. Even if she looked at her ex, he didn't look back. He kept drinking his warm milk and smiling at the cup.

― Wow, she's got a nerve coming to talk to you, huh.

― And even brought that guy with her. I'm glad we got rid of him. ― Said the guitarist, embracing the new drummer of the band.

― He scares me. ― The new member said.

― Don't worry, baby. Aunt Berta looks after you around here.

The eighteen-year-old was still shy around the band, but his drum skills were much better than the vocal. Quite a find from the singer, who had heard him play in the college instrument room.

― Ignore him. If you keep on leash, that guy will get you to Christ. ― Warned the singer.

The snacks were soon delivered, and the other boys sat at the counter to eat. The new drummer had chosen the stool next to the vocalist, looking curiously at his aluminum cup.

― But why do you drink milk?

The singer opened a smile, pointing to his own throat.

― Alcohol fucks with the vocals. I have to take care of it if I want to stay in that position in the band. Or I'll have to go back to drumming.

― Don't even think about it, Leo! ― Complained the frightened boy. ― This job is already mine.

The singer laughed stroking the boy's messy hair, and then something on television caught his attention.

The name of that place written on the screen made the smile go away. His heart was racing as his brain searched for memories, which were costly to forget. Squeezing his fingers around the aluminum cup, the singer tried to understand what would be the newspaper story.

On the screen they showed an amusement park, which in the background had closed iron gates showing an area full of machinery and operators. A red and white striped tent rose little by little, showing its grandiosity.

― Well, it looks like the circus is finally coming back. ― said the barmaid, wiping a glass she had just washed. ― I heard that they didn't perform because they were mourning the death of the owner.

― Wow, but that's been months! ― Said the drummer, taking one of the potatoes and dipping it into the melted cheese. ― But is it just me or did they change the colour of the tent?

― They always change according to the shows... Well, well, well, look, they're coming back with that show.

Slowly the voices became distant.

All the joy the singer felt from a successful performance had been replaced by trembling in every muscle of his body. Pressing his lips together, he stared at that television watching the huge tent being erected under curious eyes of the visitors.

"― Come on Leo! We can play over there near the..."

The childish voice of the person holding his hand had brought the nostalgia back. Even his fingers were red with warmth, as if in that moment he had been pulled by that person. Such a memory was shrouded in a dense haze and darkness. They could not remember, however, the exact place where they were going.

But he knew that it was far from the circus.

And that it was a place he would never want to return from.

― It's been months since they presented this show. Ah, I think I'll watch it. ― Said the drummer with a nostalgic smile, then turned to the vocalist. ― Hey Leo, you like the circus?

The singer blinked a few times to return to his reality. Lowering his head to situate himself at the bar again, the young man wore a charismatic smile on his face.

― I used to like it when I was a kid. But I've never been to one since.

― What if we all went together?

The singer stroked the boy's hair again.

―We'll soon be in exam weeks. Please study hard, hm?

― You're terrible for reminding me of a nightmare like that.

The singer laughed low and funny, not paying attention to the television anymore. He just drank the rest of his warm milk with honey to chat with his friends. And when the bar was about to close, the band could finally enjoy a great burger made by Berta.

Later, after three in the morning, the singer drove the car leaving each member of the band at home. Being the last one, he went to the kitnet he was renting without stopping to think about the article in the newspaper.

When he entered the small flat, leaving the keys on the kitchen counter, the singer threw himself on the bed, closing his eyes.

― They're coming back... Well, I don't have anything to do with it anymore.