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Music
She steps into the street where she is illuminated by a dim yellow streetlight. She looks to be about fourteen years old, faint traces of innocence showing in her hardened young face, as she looks apprehensively at the alleyway behind her. She steps carefully over a broken glass bottle, the fragments glittering in the pale light of the lamps, which line the street. The music is louder out here and more distinct. She turns left, toward the song she finds so familiar. Her steps are deliberate, determined, each one bringing her closer to her goal.
As the music flows she hums it's tune, softly. She touches a finger to her lips and feels them vibrate with the sounds of her childhood, the songs of her past. As a child her mother would hold her close and sing. The words are distant now, forgotten. Lost in time; in pain. So many things beaten out of her. Love, happiness, memories; all gone. But the tune remains, familiar.
The street stretches over a hill and her steps begin to slow as her tired young body struggles upward. Her eyes narrow in frustration as she plods along, angry at her weakness. Her body - tired out from years of neglect and abuse, faint from hunger, desperate for sleep - wants only to rest. But her strong will forces her onward until she finally crests the unforgiving hill.
The town is laid out below her, lights twinkling. Black hills to the east, desert to the west. She slumps, her feet in the road, seated in the gutter. She puts the south behind her and looks to where she knows she will find the music. Still sore, still tired, she forces herself to her feet. Step by step she comes closer to the song that tells her story. She watches her feet, listening to the sound as she comes closer to an answer.
The music fills her ears, blocking out all other sound. She looks up to find a chain link fence, barring her way. She raises her hands, her fingers gripping the wire. Exhausted, she turns; ready to give up, when something catches her eye. The fence is not unbroken. She smiles and makes her way to the open gate.
Once inside she looks around. Despite the crowd and the huge clanking machines, she can hear only one thing. Her feet, one in front of the other, follow her ears to bring her; finally, to the music she has been searching for.
Standing between two caravans, her face cast in shadow, she watches, silent. Children, younger than her, run past. They smile, laugh and she knows they are happy. But she listens only to the music.
The carousel stands bathed in bright warm light. More lights, different colours, flash and glitter in the night as the carousel turns, playing loudly the song she needs to hear.
Satisfied, she turns away. She knows the carnival will be waiting for her tomorrow. The carousel might break down and will eventually be taken away, but she will always have the music.