Living Doll Boyfriend: Lancelot (special preview)

I find myself in the main tent, sitting myself at the back of the audience as the lights go down low and a stage light focuses on the center. There is a man there, tall and broad of shoulder. He grins into the crowd and flourishes out his top hat. 

“I am the one, the only, Mr. Faire!” He announces loudly and the crowd erupts into applause.

“Tonight,” Mr. Faire reaches into his hat, “we shall begin our evening with a most magical of show.” His arm disappears completely into the hat, all the way up to his shoulder!

I lean forward in anticipation, trying to see what sort of trick he is pulling.

“Tonight, I present to you the amazing, the glorious, the acrobat of the century!” He rips his arm out of the hat as streamers and confetti follow. All of it is blue and gold, and it spills out and explodes, filling the entire stage so that all I can see is a glittery confection. 

“Lancelot Renaissance!” Mr. Faire cheers as the stage lights turn blue.

The confetti and streamers fall and, suspended above the stage, poised like an angel, is a tall and elegant figure. He has long blonde hair tied back in a thick braid. He’s wearing old fashioned clothes so that he looks like he’s from a beautiful painting. 

Music starts and he moves, changing his position on the swing. He stretches out his legs and moves his arms dramatically. He then twirls, spinning around on the swing until he falls. I gasp and cover my eyes, but then the crowd applauds. I look through my fingers, seeing him hanging from the swing by one leg.

He rises and falls again. Grasping to the ribbons of the swing, he glides down onto the stage, where he lands in a split. His body goes limp for a moment and dancers appear on stage. They look small, like children. They dance about Lancelot until he rises up. He swirls and spins around them, bending backwards and flipping across the stage.

I’m stunned and awed by him. His body moves so elegantly, I can barely contain myself. He moves as if the world around him doesn’t matter. Even in the blue lights of the stage, his face is pure beauty itself. 

As the performance ends and the stage lights glow again, I see his beautiful smile and I melt. Someone like me does not deserve to look at someone as beautiful as he is. Yet, I am already enamored by the way he moves and carries himself. I want to see more.

The next night, I do not have enough money for another ticket, even though I worked myself to the bone trying to earn enough coin to return. I sneak back to the carnival, though, and walk around the fence. I climb up it, used to such things when I cleaned the chimney. I slip down behind the tents, hoping to tiptoe my way around. But I trip on a rope and topple, falling into a tent and crashing down. A bucket falls over my head and a rack of clothing falls on top of me.

“Who goes there?” A deep voice booms.