The Fairgrounds of Later

For Future Boys and Men

Nocci pushed the creaky door and held way for his companion. Inside they both applied the cups of their hands to noses and mouth. The floor and spilled tables reeked of worlds some children never see. His straggler kept fingers clamped around the tails of Nocci’s backpack, his shorter legs heavily clomping as quietly as possible among broken glass and strewn garments.

“What happens here?” asked the strange young innocent.

“Things we shouldn’t be proud of,” whispered the older as he hovered his unwooden hand above the rugged torn felt that was once just a billiard table.

“Why are there such bright lights outside a dark nasty place?”

The fatherly docent brushed fingers along the bridge of the youngster’s still small nose. “Often the worse an establishment’s deception and gruel the more fanfare to attract guests.

“Papa,” uttered the cautious tracker, “ I stepped on something squishy, like from a real person. Are you certain M’Ma would be good with this?”

“You see over there?” asked Nocci. “They dance in that place, and think they’re fine”.

“Is that before they have tails”, asked the littler.

“Indeed”, said the Papa, replacing a fancy, unopened Tequila bottle back to it’s ledge. “Indeed”.

This story is a merging of a “stolen character” being teleported into a “stolen world” via the following prompt. Reach out in the comments if you need help figuring out who’s been blown into the world.