Carousel CreaturesThe eerie carnival songs sank into oblivion as five (and three quarters, as he reminded everybody who got it wrong) year-old Thomas gazed in awe at the glowing, dream-like carousel dancing in front of him.
Snow-white stallions and black-as-night beauties stood still, forever frozen in long-lost memories of happiness. Each one had eyes that stared emptily at nothing and everything all at once; and their grim expressions were emotionless, although they must've been so joyful, once.
Thomas, unlike so many others, could see past the worn, paint-free porcelain saddles and the raw, picked-at manes. He could tell that even though these horses had long since given up their fresh-paint new looks, they were somehow respected, like the single system that everybody could rely upon. Something about this wonderful machine caught Thomas' attention, but it wasn't the horses: it was the lights.
The bulbs on the ceiling of the carousel lit up in lines like a group of overexcited hockey fans doing the wa