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    Carniepunk: Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea
    Carniepunk: Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea
    Carniepunk: Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea
    Ebook38 pages34 minutes

    Carniepunk: Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea

    By Seanan McGuire

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    About this ebook

    From New York Times bestselling author Seanan McGuire, a haunting urban fantasy short story in the Carniepunk anthology—for fans of all things circus, supernatural, and mysterious…

    It’s been seventeen years since the last time Ada’s carnival passed through her father’s hometown in Alabama—and no one is expecting the reception she gets.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPocket Star
    Release dateDec 15, 2014
    ISBN9781476793542
    Author

    Seanan McGuire

    Seanan McGuire is the author of Every Heart a Doorway, the October Daye urban fantasy series, the InCryptid series, and several other works, both standalone and in trilogies. She also writes darker fiction as Mira Grant. She was the winner of the 2010 John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and in 2013 she became the first person ever to appear five times on the same Hugo ballot.

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      Book preview

      Carniepunk - Seanan McGuire

      titleflower

      Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea

      Seanan McGuire

      If there’s one thing seventeen years of traveling with the Miller Family Carnival has taught me, it’s that harvesttime is carnival time.

      Spring is good, if what you want is young lovers cluttering the Ferris wheel like clinging burrs, moon-eyed and drunk on the wonder of learning that lips can be used for kissing. Summer brings in the families, screaming children with fingers that smell like cotton candy and mischief, wistful parents who remember their own turns around the Ferris wheel. Springs and summers are profitable. We’re hopping like scalded cats all through spring and summer. The midway lights never go out, and my throat feels like twenty miles of bad road by the time we get to August from all the cheering and cajoling and calling for the townies to step right up and see the wonders of the world.

      Springs and summers pay for new equipment, for repairs to the old equipment, for fresh ponies in the paddock and good bread on the table. Winters are for resting. That’s when we retreat to the family’s permanent home outside of Phoenix, Arizona, and take stock against the year to come. But autumns . . .

      Autumns are harvesttime, and harvesttime is carnival time.

      Even the trees know it, and they dress themselves up in reds and yellows and kiss-a-carnie gold. Especially in the South, where the pulse of the seasons runs right under the skin of the world. Alabama met us at the border with a celebration, and the mood spread through the carnival like a rumor. Everything was going to be good here. The ticket sales would be fantastic, the marks would be easy, and the people would be easy to please.

      But first, we have to get them to come. There’s where I come in: me, and the rest of the scouts. I ride into Huntsville on the roof of Duncan’s pickup truck, sitting with my legs dangling and my face turned toward the road behind us. It falls away like a secret no one cared to keep. My heels drum against the glass with every bump and pothole, setting up an uneven tattoo that says Carnival’s-coming, carnival’s-coming, carnival-is-almost-here.

      It’s a perfect day.

      I should know by now that perfect days can’t last.

      The pickup rattles to a stop in front of a convenience store. The storefront is plastered with flyers and faded advertisements so thick that no trace of the original paint remains. I slide into the bed of

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