Smeared Paint: A Short Story

*paranormal romance* *urban fantasy*

The tent flap brushed aside and the lights flickered on. The illumination was dim―just enough to prevent patrons from tripping or walking into a supporting pole. It was Bart’s fifth visit this week, and it was only Monday. He probably didn’t even need the light. With the number of times he came, there was a good chance he could maneuver the tent in the dark.

He rested his check against the slick chill of the glass, pressed his ear against its surface. the smile that fanned across his face told of everything he wasn’t saying―the smile and the number of times he kept returning. Hand fanned flat against the reflecting surface, he hummed a melody, sang to the captor behind the glass, the one he continually came back to see time and time again. In a deep, raspy voice he sang of sins, punishment, and letting love in.

A weight seeped through her shoulders, dropped to her gut. She didn’t feel for Bart as he did for her. Still, he came when no one else did, and that was something. She didn’t dislike him. In fact, she cared enough to try and protect his heart―not break it. She fished her fingers through the cage at the top of the glass and reached out for a connection. Any connection at all. Without hesitation, he laced his fingers with hers. With the rush of a tsunami, his warmth spread through her palm, then out along her arm. The vitality of human warmth never ceased to surprise her. Yet she didn’t jerk or pull away. Contact with another living, breathing individual was something she craved. Like food and water, it was a necessity.

Keep reading at MysticsCarnival.com – Trouper Tales: Smeared Paint

While you’re there, catch up on fun looks at:

• costuming Ι The Costuming Key
• Makeup Ι Makeup and the Performer
• Tent Setup Ι The Carnival is Moving in!

I hope you enjoy Smeared Paint. Tune in at Mystic’s Carnival next Thursday for A Bit of Magic by Melinda VanLone.

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