fantasy fiction by camila grases

The Tamer

No one really remembers how they died. Only what they had in their pockets.

I had a penny, a pen, and a daisy. 

Well, I guess that isn’t true since I found the daisy on my coffin and put it in my pocket after I died.

The pen was useless.

The penny was lucky because it fit into the slot; the toll: one penny.

Choosing whether or not to insert the penny took me a while. I didn’t know what would happen either way, but the only thing in the whole wide white space I had woken to was the bronze toll and my own coffin. 

I inserted the penny, the toll disappeared and was replaced by a door. It clicked open and I entered a room inhabited by other penny people and a man that did not seem like he had ever died before. He wore a purple suit with slicked black hair and an oversized black rose pinned to his chest. He smiled as we entered, each from our own doors, and said, “Welcome, dear friends, to the Circus.”

He was called Lial. Lial lined us up. He stood in front of a woman in a fleece sweater and a long skirt. “You can sing,“ he stated.

“I have never sang in my life,” she said with equal confidence.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t,” he smiled and pointed to a door. 

When you’re dead, arguing seems pointless. Especially with a man in a purple suit and an oversized black rose. The woman shrugged and opened the door. 

The door screamed at the woman. Bright lights billowed in and out of the opening and the sounds of audiences cheering stirred whatever brain matter I still had in my skull. She stepped inside and the door closed behind her, leaving the rest of us in the silence of the penny room.

“You,” Lial said to a very old man in a robe about as old as him. “Do you believe in magic?”

“No,” said the old man to the very magical Lial in the very magical room.

Lial smiled, it seemed all his face could do. “Excellent! You shall be the Magician.”

“I don’t believe in magicians.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t one.”

“Right,” the old man stepped through the door.

Lial came to me. His eyes were black and big and inhuman. He had no pupils or irises or whites of the eyes. Only black, like his rose. But when he looked at me, there was something deeply human about him. I wanted to give him a hug. 

“Do you have any special talents?” he asked me. He seemed unsure about me.

“No,” I said. I didn’t remember anything about who I was. But if all I had in my pockets when I died were a penny, a pen, and a daisy, I could not have been anything special.

“I think you’re right,” he nodded slowly.

“What should we do about that?"“

“Well, I have something for someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“It’s a really hard job,” he said.

“I don’t mind.”

“Great!” His arms were wide open as he gestured to the door. I wanted to give him a hug but I resisted.

“Will I see you again?” I asked suddenly. We had been together for only a moment, but I liked the way his face fit together like a puzzle that had lost some of its pieces. The proportions slightly off, the contour of his cheeks slightly too high, his eyes too big. I liked his hair and the color of his hands, his chapped knuckles made him seem alive even though I was sure he wasn’t.

He seemed surprised by my outburst, and answered with honesty, “You will see people like me, but you will never see me again.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Never is a long time, isn’t it?”

“I don’t like that there are people like you but not you.”

He chuckled like I had said something funny, “Yes, this job will suit you well,” he smiled to himself, then shrugged, “maybe they aren’t like me at all.”

I wish I had given him that hug before he closed the door on me. 

*

The room was dark. There were no waving spotlights or people cheering. There was only hay on the floor and cloth walls and a cloth ceiling. I was in a tent, but it was too dark to see all the corners. 

Something big was in there with me. I could tell because I could hear it breathing.

“You must be the new recruit,” said a voice behind me. It was not coming from the breathing thing. The breathing continued.

I turned around. There was no door back to the penny room behind me. Only more tent. And a woman dressed in purple with slick black hair and a white rose pinned to her suit. She smiled. 

“Yes,” I said. I was a new recruit and this was my new job. Something inside my body stirred, I felt like my heart was made of light. I had a job that was mine.

The woman reached a hand out, “My name is Polly. Welcome to the Circus.”

The breathing creature snorted. Its breathing became less steady. And then, it growled. 

The woman, Polly, giggled, “He’s awake.”

“Who?”

“The Drake.”

Its snout emerged from the shadows. Its tongue flicked. Then its eyes, these beautiful pink eyes, glared at me and Polly. The rest of its body came into view. Its wings were sharp and chained to the floor. Its long neck barely fit inside the tent. It brought its face close to mine and snarled. It bared its teeth and lightning crackled inside, singing my eyebrows.

“A dragon?” I asked breathlessly.

“No,” Polly reached a hand toward the creature and it snapped at her. She pulled away quickly, “A demon. You are the new Tamer.”

The creature laughed, the chain embedded deep inside its neck jiggled. 

A tamer? it taunted. Its voice was static and deep.

I followed Polly out of the tent. Outside was darkness. Nighttime. All around us were circular tents sprawling in every direction, some small, some big. Some had spotlights growing out of them like fingers, others were dark and quiet and asleep. “How can I tame a demon?” I asked the woman.

Polly turned to me, “That’s up to you. But Lial believes you can.”

“Believes?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

She put a hand on my shoulder, “You will,” she smiled. 

Polly lead me to one of the dark tents. This one was red with gold filigree. It glowed in the night air, “This will be your home. You may move The Drake to this tent if you feel you will need more space. Otherwise it is yours. When you have tamed the beast, then we shall have a show.”

“What if I never tame it?”

“Never is a long time, isn’t it?”

“Lial said that to me,” I remembered in a daze.

*

Someone was singing in the tent next door. 

My tent was enormous, benches lined the outer wall, circling the inside. No one had used this tent in a long time. I could tell because grass and flowers had started to grow in the dirt meant to be the stage. Vines wrapped around the wooden frames of the tent and coiled into the audience bleachers. The grass was overgrown and soft. I nestled into it and listened to the singing voice that traveled across the outside, passed my overgrowth, and made a sweet home in my ear.

I couldn’t tell what she was singing about, only that it made me sad. It made me wish I could remember more. 

I pulled the daisy out of my pocket. It was the only thing I had left. The daisy was still fresh, still beautiful. Still smelled like a daisy. I set it on my chest and closed my eyes until light filtered in.

*

“I don’t want to tame you,” I told the Drake. I had decided this at some point the night before.

The creature snarled, Why not? 

I could see its body better in the light now, its scales shimmered between blue and green and purple, but from afar it looked gray.

“There is no sun here,” I responded pointedly. I was sitting on the other side of the tent, not wanting to find out what would happen if a demon dragon bit my head off after I had already died, “That light outside is more brilliant than any sun. It lets things grow wilder. Untamed.”

Will you free me, then, if you will not tame me? the Drake asked curiously. Its talons were playing with some sort of toy. Or dead animal. It was hard to tell from a distance.

“What will you do if I free you?”

Destroy the Circus.

“Why?”

The Drake paused, It would be easy.

“Did you hear the woman singing yesterday?”

Yes, it hissed.

“Why would you want to destroy that?”

*

“I brought you something,” I opened my hand so that the Drake could see. I held the baby cockatiel delicately. “I found it in my tent. The grey feathers reminded me of you.”

The Drake pursed its mouth and shot a bolt of lightning with so much accuracy that it hit the baby bird and only the baby bird. The body burned in my hands for a few seconds before it became a pile of ashes.

“Why did you do that?” I stared at my hands. My eyes welled up.

Will you tame me?

“No,” there was a new emotion I was feeling. Fire. It stung my eyes and bloated my stomach, “I refuse!” I screamed at the Drake and walked out of the tent and did not return for a month.

*

I went to the Singer. She sang every night, her music was powerfully hers. I felt she must know something.

When I saw her, she was sitting in a chair painting silver onto her face. She was not wearing the fleece sweater or the long skirt anymore, but I still recognized her. 

“Hello,” she smiled at me, “How can I help you?”

“Do you know anything about taming?”

She put blue on her lips and her eyes, “I tamed my voice, I suppose.”

“How did you do that?”

“Practice. A lot of practice. Every day I did little things that made my voice better and then eventually, it got better.” She must have noticed that I looked unconvinced, "Does that not help?”

“Maybe it is not the same kind of taming.”

“Dear, I must tell you. Practice only works if you believe there will be improvement.”

I stared at her, “Everyone keeps telling me to believe. I don’t think I understand.”

She painted blue dots on her cheek bones. The more paint she added to her face, the more human she looked. I wanted to kiss her. 

Her eyes met mine, “Belief is all we have around here. It’s like currency. I only know one person that has none.”

I knew him, too.

*

I knocked on his door. He opened the door, two white gloves in one hand, his top hat was crooked, his jacket unbuttoned. “Can I help you?” he flustered at me, waved me off like an annoying fly. He was clearly busy. It tickled me to see such an old man with so much energy.

“I need advice,” I stepped inside his home. It was a tent like mine only smaller. 

He had dolls hanging from the ceiling. They all turned to look at me. I waved at them. They waved back.

He had rings and rope and cages full of birds and small animals. He had a giant vertical tank filled with snakes. His costumes hung on the other side, ranging from multicolored suits to feather coats to sequenced dresses.

He buttoned his jacket in front of a mirror, “I have very little time to give any good advice.”

“Then can I just ask you a question?”

He pulled his left glove on and nodded.

“Do you know what believing means?”

“I don’t believe in magic,” he folded a handkerchief and tucked it into his pocket.

“But,” I hesitated, “What does that mean?”

“Means I don’t think magic is real.”

Maybe coming to him was a mistake. “But magic is real. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Seems like you know what believing means.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re out of time,” he stepped over to the entrance that I was currently guarding and gently scooted by, “it’s time for my show.”

I stopped him from leaving and fixed his top hat so that it was straight. 

“Thank you,” he winked at me, then sauntered towards his adoring crowd.

“I just don’t understand.”

*

The Drake perked up when I returned. You came back, he sounded surprised.

“I will not tame you,” I said firmly.

Isn’t that your job? he scowled.

“Yes, it is,” I sat down in my spot away from the demon, “No one said I couldn’t refuse."

The Drake rolled his eyes, Everyone must do their job. It’s their job.

“What’s yours?”

To be the Untamable.

*

Polly came to check on me a few months later. I was sitting in a nook I had found among the vines. They were thick and round and soft. Like a cradle. 

I was chewing on a leaf vaguely, trying to remember why I used to do that.

“The Singer and the Magician said you came to see them,” she found me in the nook and sat down on one of the wooden benches. My very first audience member.

“They were very unhelpful,” I confirmed.

“That is because this is your job, not theirs,” She lit a cigarette and puffed purple smoke towards me, “You would not know how they are able to do their jobs. So they cannot help you do yours.”

“How do you decide who does what job?”

“I don’t,” she shrugged, “That is Lial’s job.”

“What is your job?”

“To be Polly.”

I stared at the vines above me, “I wish that were my job.”

“You would be terrible at it.”

“Why?”

“Because you are not Polly.”

I nodded. Something about that made sense. “Who am I, then?”

“You get to choose,” she leaned towards me, flicking her cigarette into the distance, “What would you like to be?”

“You chose for me. I am the Tamer.”

“That is just your job,” she shook her head.

“But the other two are the Magician and the Singer.”

“That’s who they chose to be.”

“I don’t want to be the Tamer.”

“You can be anyone,” she paused, “Except Polly.”

*

“I will not tame you,” I said to the Drake.

You keep saying that, he growled. In his talon, he spun the corpse toy around like a set of keys. 

I walked toward him. He stopped spinning the toy, his eyes narrowed. He was on alert. “I have decided what I want to be,” I told him.

He snapped at me as I approached, but I did not stop. I did not let him stop me. You want to be reckless?

“I want to be fearless.”

The Fearless?

“No, something even braver.”

I reached up to him. He stared at my hand with intensity. He opened his mouth, a fiery white glow silhouetted his teeth. He was ready to disintegrate me.

“You can try to kill me,” I said to him, “You can try to burn me away. But I won’t stop. I want to be a fearless thing and I am not afraid of you.”

He closed his mouth, his face lined with curiosity. What fearless thing do you want to be?

“A Friend.”

He laughed at me. No matter. I am fearless.

There is no need to be that.

“Why not?”

If you have an audience, you do not need friends.

“Have you ever had a friend before?”

He brought his face ever so slightly down towards me. We were as close as we had been when we first met. No, he snarled, demons do not need friends.

“I think you’re wrong.”

Is that a belief?

I stared at him for a while, processing that. “Yes,” I said finally, “A belief.”

*

“What was your life like before you became the Untamable?”

I was a mighty thunderstorm. Destroyer of planets. My wings crushed mountains, my lightning burned away the very roots in the soil. 

“Why?”

Because I could.

“Then you died?”

There was nothing left to destroy. The thunderstorm blew away to nothing.

“Do you miss being a storm?”

I miss being free.

*

“This is my daisy,” I presented it to The Drake, “It is the only thing in the whole world that is mine.”

I could destroy it.

“I know.”

Why are you showing me?

“Because trust is part of being a Friend.”

Do you trust me.

“No,” I raised the daisy closer to him, “But I am giving it to you anyways.”

He accepted the delicate little stem, clutching it between his talons. He stared at the flower. 

Finally, he whispered, I have never seen a flower before.

*

I led him into my tent, “This is my home. Those are vines. This is grass. And all the colorful bits are flowers.”

I could destroy it.

“I know,” I dropped the chains. There was nowhere to chain him so I dropped them.

Do you trust me?

“No,” I said, “But I am letting you in anyways.”

He touched his mouth to the grass and nuzzled it, I have never felt so much softness before.

“You can stay as long as you like,” I smiled, happy to have a guest.

*

He burned the vines. Probably to prove to himself he still could. Lightning flung from his mouth and lit the fire. I put the vines out before the tent collapsed, but my nook was gone. He stared at me, his expression was unreadable. He was on all fours, his neck craning, preparing to defend against my fury.

I sat on an untouched bench and stared at him for a long time. Then I sighed, “I forgive you.”

His ears waved around, his eyes glared suspiciously, Why?

“Because it is not easy to be a storm.”

#

One night, he was laying in the grass, trying to bite through his chains. They were unbreakable chains. But the way he snarled and tried and relentlessly believed he could break them filled my body with a warmth I must have remembered. Because I knew what it was before I said it.

“I love you.”

When I said it, he stopped trying whatever he was trying. His mouth opened, lightning cracked softly in his nostrils before it dissipated. Then, he turned back and tried something else to keep himself busy.

I was glad I remembered love.

*

“Do you have anything that can break chains?” I asked the Magician. It was morning and he was sewing flowers into a gown for a new trick he was planning. 

He pulled the needle through the fabric with gravitas, “I do — what kind of chains?”

“Unbreakable chains.”

“Hmmmm,” he paused a moment, then set his gown on a table and walked between the hanging dolls towards a trunk he kept by his costumes. I walked behind him. 

The dolls reached out and touched me. I told them how nice it was to see them again. One of them pinched my cheek and opened her wooden mouth, though no sound came out. I pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. She closed her mouth and raised her hands to her face, looking between the other dolls and me. If she could blush, she would have. I laughed. 

The Magician reached into his trunk and pulled out tool after tool that looked fit enough to cut through chains. But he seemed unsatisfied with his findings. “Unbreakable chains,” he muttered, pulling out a diamond saw and tossing it to one side, “I have only one tool that can do that. Ah ha!”

He lifted his hand victoriously. In it was a very small, very fragile looking wire cutter. He handed it over to me, “I don’t need it anytime soon,” he said, “So you can use it in the meantime.”

I took it from him. It weighed almost nothing and looked rusted. “Unbreakable chains,” I reiterated. 

“That’s right,” he nodded, “Unbreakable chain cutters. It may take a while, but it’s the only thing that’ll work. Do you want to break those chains?”

“Yes.”

“Then you better get started.”

*

I sat next to the Drake and showed him the tool. What is that? he sniffed it.

“Apparently, it will get these off,” I pointed at his chains.

He laughed his static laugh, Really?

I shrugged and reached over to his leg. He pulled away. I looked at him, exasperated, “Will you at least let me try?”

His ears waved back and forth dismissively, I thought you would not free me.

“I never said I wouldn’t. I just wanted to know what you would do if I did.”

So you will let me destroy everything.

“I don’t want you to destroy anything,” I reached for his leg again and this time he let me touch it. He was surprisingly soft. I could see now that the chains had been biting through his skin and eating away at his muscle.

I pulled the wire cutters up to the chains. He watched me intently and seemed to be holding his breath. I snapped the metal pieces together and was delighted when the tiniest sliver of unbreakable chain did indeed fall off. It was small, barely a shaving, but it was suddenly possible to break.

Will you forgive me if I destroy everything? he asked suddenly.

I frowned and shaved another piece off. The skin around his leg twitched. 

“I don’t know.”

*

When I had cut the chains off his four limbs and the neck chain was the only piece left, Polly came to see me again. We walked amongst the tents, the brilliant light of noon filled me with life. A group of three jesters came around the bend juggling on unicycles. I had seen them before and knew they were not of the dead. They never looked me in the eyes, only sang a song in a language that didn’t sound like a language at all.

Polly bowed with reverence towards the three of them as they laughed their way down the street. 

“You are not taming the Drake,” she said to me, with no particular judgement in her voice, “You are freeing him.”

“I do not want to tame him.”

She smiled, “What would you like your show to be, then?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I told her sincerely, “You have magic. You have music and humor and the bizarre. But you do not have wild. Why can’t the show be untamed?”

“Untamed?” She let the word sit in her mouth for a second, “I like that.”

“Good. Then you should let people know: the grand opening of my show will be next week.”

*

The people came. They flooded my tent with their excited chittering. They stormed my wooden benches and sat on the steps when I ran out of proper seats. They stood on the rafters and held their breathes. The excitement fizzled in the air. 

What is this? the Drake yowled. The chain around his neck was almost completely shaved off. There was only a piece of it left. I reached up and touched him on the neck. He let me, as he had so many times before.

“Our show,” I said to him.

He eyed me sideways, But you have not tamed me.

“I never will.”

*

The Drake stood in the center of the ring. A spotlight flicked on and caught his glittering scales. The audience gasped. 

I jumped onto his back and ran all the way up to his shoulders, the spotlight glistening in my eyes. I couldn’t see the audience, I didn’t have to. I could hear them. They applauded and stomped their feet and screamed with approval at my willingness to ride the hell beast.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” I announced to them, my voice boomed. I had lived in that tent for so long I knew how to make it thunder, “Welcome to my show. Before we begin, however, I must apologize to you all. You have been deceived. You have all been told this is the grand opening of my show. It is not. It is the only show I will ever do.”

The audience was silent. I could feel them lean in towards me, hanging onto my every word. 

What are you planning? the Drake sounded confused. It was the first time I had ever heard him confused.

“I have been told to tame this beast,” I said to the audience, ignoring him, “I have decided I will not.” I jumped from the back of the giant monster and landed on the grass that I used to sleep in. “Tonight, I am going to free the Drake,” my voice grew more severe, “And you shall bear witness to the storm.”

He opened his mouth and crackled lightning towards me. It missed, of course, but it was well timed. The audience whispered amongst themselves, unsure what to do or how to feel. 

The Drake reeled his neck back as I approached. I am not a show, he growled, the words coming from deep within.

“I am not asking you to be a show,” I whispered back to him, reaching toward the last bit of chain with my wire cutters, “I am asking you to be free.”

If I destroy things, you will not forgive me, he stated.

I looked him in the eye, “You will not need my forgiveness,” I said slowly, “If you destroy me, too.”

He snapped at me,  Foolish Tamer, what is your game?

I jumped on him then. He swirled his head around and tried to buck me off but I held strong, pulling myself up his neck towards the tiniest bit of chain left. The audience squealed with every throw of the monster’s head, laughed every time my body was slightly air born, cried with every painful hit I took. 

I grunted with the effort, “I told you,” I gasped for breath, “I am not the Tamer.”

I sliced the last piece off. The chain fell onto the floor with a thunk. The audience went silent. The Drake stopped his head thrashing. For a moment, everything was frozen like this.

I jumped off him again and looked into his face. He moved his eyes slowly toward me, his pupils were slits. He reeled his head back toward the top of the tent and opened his mouth wide. Powerful lightning burst through the top of the tent and straight into the sky.

I stared at that light. It was painful and singed the very air I was breathing; but it was also beautiful. Like the light of the mornings in the Circus. It must have been the same light, too, because in that moment, all my flowers bloomed. My grass grew taller, my vines greener. 

The audience screamed, suddenly realizing they were watching the beginning of something terrible. But still, they did not leave. 

The Drake’s head swiveled down toward me as he stood on all fours. He was a brilliant creature. His arms and legs dug out the grass as he walked around me in circles, a cat cornering its prey. 

“If you want to be free, you must destroy me,” I said to him.

His head swerved back and forth, his ears stood up straight. He really looked like a cat. Why? he hissed, why must I destroy you?

“The Untamable and the Tamer cannot coexist. One of us must go.”

His body shivered with the newfound power of being unchained. He turned his head and spat infernal lightning, burning a hole in the ceiling of the tent. Embers fell onto the people below, but still they stayed, fascinated by the show. 

I thought you were a Friend.

I looked at him sadly, “That is who I am, not my job. I cannot be a Friend if my friend is my slave. I must set you free.”

He raised a talon to the sky and brought it down with fury. It missed me by a centimeter but razed my cheek. It felt so good to feel that pain again. 

I was starting to remember pain.

I refuse, he wailed as he flung his tail into the wooden benches. Some of the members of the audience were buried under the rubble. Most were never seen again. The rest just stared. 

“You must.”

The Drake flapped his wings furiously. The wind pushed people off the rafters. They landed with dull thuds onto the floor.

I have never been loved, the Drake howled.

“Now you have.”

I have never had a Friend, he cried.

“Now you have.”

I have never destroyed something beautiful.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t.”

His face was so close to mine, I could feel the heat coming from the inside of his body. His scales began to glow, lightning crackling up his stomach like it would through a storm cloud in the distance. His ears hugged his head as his mouth slowly opened. I could see inside of him, the lightning scrambling up his throat like a volatile animal. He groaned one last time. 

I closed my eyes and let him devour me.

*

Being cooked by lightning is an audio experience. I could hear my skin frying, my hair slipping off my boiling scalp, my jaw locking and every bone after that shattering together like glass against cement. My ears rang. My eyes popped. My heart turned to ash.

*

I woke up screaming. 

My body ached. I remembered pain before I remembered I was dead.

In my pocket: a penny.

On my arm: a scar I did not recognize. It looked like a tree had tried to grow under my skin. 

I wandered over to the slot and inserted the penny. The toll let me in. I was alone. The room was large and white.

And then he was there.

“I knew you could do it,” Lial smiled at me.

I stared at him for a second. I knew him. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“Never has passed,” he said kindly.

Tears filled my eyes, “Really? I’m glad.”

“Me, too.”

“How did you know I could do it?”

“Everyone has a talent. I figured out yours.”

“What is it?”

“You still don’t know?”

I shook my head. It throbbed. White fireworks flashed in front of my eyes.

He stepped towards the door to the Circus, “That’s okay,” he placed his hand on the knob, “Someday, you’ll understand. For now, I think your talents will serve you better as the Friend.”

*

I found him in the rubble of the fallen tent. Every other tent lay untouched; mine was completely destroyed. Everything was burnt or wrecked or swept away by terrible winds. 

He was curled up in the center, where the hole he made in the tent had fallen. A little bit of untouched grass still grew there. His head was buried under his front legs. He seemed to be asleep.

I laughed at this display. His ears caught my laughter. They perked up. He raised his head and swung it toward me violently. But I was not afraid of him. 

“Why didn’t you leave?” I chuckled.

He stared at me, Because I am not free.

“What do you mean?” I approached him slowly. 

You have tamed me.

I stepped up to him and touched the soft skin on his back, “But you are free. I will never tame you.”

He laughed. It sounded like it had never happened before, not truly. It was rough and mean and crackled.

He lifted his wing and revealed his right talons. Between them, clutched gently, was a daisy. My daisy. Untouched and beautiful as ever.

When I am free, he almost whispered, I destroy things. I destroy everything. But when I am tame, I protect flowers. And my friend comes home.

“You are wrong,” I hugged him around the neck, tightly, “I have not tamed you at all. A tame beast would not protect a flower. A tame beast would not have reason. You have something only a free beast can have.”

What is that?

“Choice.”

Do I?

“Yes,” I cried, “So what do you choose?”

I choose, he said slowly, to protect my daisy. What do you choose?

“To continue to love you.”

Love is something a free beast can have, too?

“Yes. Love is wild. Untamed. Lightning.”