All The World In Wax
Raymond Daley
Copyright 10/2/13 by Raymond Daley
Contents
Copyright Information
All The World In Wax
Authors Notes
About The Author
All The World In Wax
Summer, 1936.
The place, Sandusky Ohio.
It was an early summer morning as the tents and stalls started to set up across Barkers Field.
Old Man Barker and his clan had owned the land as long as anyone in the area cared to remember. There were several stories as to how they'd originally come to own it depending on who you asked. Some say it'd been won in a card game in a local saloon. Some say it'd been gifted to the Barker clan after the Civil War for an act of extreme heroism although they always never mentioned which side it'd been for. Some even say (very quietly, at least) that it'd been stolen by a claim jumper.
The carnival had been given permission to set up in Barkers Field again. It made Old Man Barker a decent amount every year, enough to make up for any shortcomings in that years harvest at least.
The carnival came every year with its sights, smells and promises of something new and different that wasn't small-town Ohio.
All around the town the pasters of posters were advertising the coming attraction. "Recently arrived; from Lynchburg, Tn. All The World - In Wax! See how life is lived in other states!" The poster promised mysteries would be unravelled amidst a cloud of popcorn aroma and tilt-a-whirl screams.
The carnival would run for a week as it always had in the past, then quietly dismantle like a snake eating its own tail, moving off during the night leaving nothing but an empty field. Only a few half ripped tickets and a broken coconut shell to show anything else had ever been there except the field.
At the start of the week the visitors were mainly the affluent members of the local community, fathers flexing their chequebooks to show their wives and families a good time. Candy apples would be bought and dropped, boys would try and fail to hoop a fish. Fathers would try to impress Mothers with a show of strength to ring the bell, a good time would be had by all and much money would be spent in that great pursuit.
***
The days would drift by slowly, after two or three days had passed most of the more prosperous townsfolk would have visited the carnival at least twice. In the final days of its visit the admission price would start to gradually drop and those less fortunate would get their chance at a little harmless fun.
Those whose pockets were not so deep would find stallholders telling them "Some fella just left his game part-way through, why not finish it and see if you can win a prize?" and amazingly enough the cans would fall or the targets would drop or the coconuts would hit the ground or the fishbowl would be looped by the hoop and a child would go away with the biggest prize on the stall, holding a memory of the best summer day of their young lives so far.
Often these families would pass an attraction and the barker would call something out to them like "Come on in and see the egress! It's the worlds greatest!" only to have Mom or Pop look down, pull out their pockets; showing them empty and politely shake their heads in refusal. One attraction in particular never needed to lure anyone inside, people saw the signs and wanted to know what they were missing.
"All The World - In Wax!" It sounded so alluring, the temptation was almost impossible for most to resist.
***
On the final day of the carnival prices were so low as to almost be free. But not quite.
Those families who lived on the very knife edge of life and death each day visited just to see what all the fuss was about, by then there was no admission price. Stalls and attractions were priced right down. Games abandoned by "Someone who just left!" were offered for free to those passing but almost nothing cost more than a penny. Most would win a small toy or a candy apple. The barkers would ask one and all to "Step right up!"
Merely to be there was a source of excitement for them, with their lives normally full of hard work from dawn to dusk. A day of rest that wasn't Sunday was extremely rare indeed. Most of those families were here now, walking slowly from stall to stall, taking in the sights, sounds and smells as fully as possible to be able to relive them when money got tightest because at least memories were completely free.
Most families had come as a group enjoying a few hours away from the hard work of farms, sawmills and back-breaking manual labour. But someone was alone. The boy in the ragged blue denim dungarees and bare feet known locally by those that cared to pass the time of day with him as Mose.
Tommy "Mose" Moseley was wide-eyed and alone but without a care in the world. His chores for the day had been done, his time was his to use as he wished. And his wish was coming true.
He was at the carnival.
Most folks called him Mose, not on account of his surname being Moseley but for his habit of moseying everywhere. Tommy never hurried, he never ran, he just moseyed on along until he got to where ever it was he was heading for. Which he always did, eventually.
And as he moseyed through the carnival Tommy took in everything he saw, heard and smelt. Eden piled on paradise stacked on heaven topped with a cherry.
Outside the red and white striped tent Tommy saw a body he didn't much care for. Ian Winston. Ian was rich. Well, his family were rich so Ian took it for granted that he too was rich by default. He got what he wanted and most of that was a whole lot of leeway from the local sheriff who looked the other way whilst counting the money Mr Winston paid him to ignore certain infractions Ian may or may not have been responsible for.
Tommy was having a good day. He'd failed to hoop a fish, he'd failed to knock over a coconut, he'd even missed the targets on the rifle range. All the stallholders had smiled, commiserating his ill fortune but Tommy didn't care. He'd gotten the chance to play, each time for free!
Outside the mystical attraction stood Tommy and Ian, neither paying the other any mind. Tommy was looking at the pictures painted on the side of the tent, images of places he'd never go. Ian regarded the tent with scorn, he could read the claims being made and didn't believe them for a moment.
He'd already been stung by the various fakes in The Hall Of Oddities, feeling rather badly burned after discovering the worlds greatest egress had been nothing more than the way out of the tent he'd been walking around for ten whole minutes.
Another Candy apple would lessen his displeasure so he walked back to the vendor only a few stalls away behind him.
The man outside the red and white striped tent looked at Tommy. "Got a penny son? That's all it costs to see the wonders inside, All The World - In Wax!" he said, smiling at Tommy.
Tommy shook his head and showed his pockets empty. The man looked around, checking to see if anyone was looking. He quietly pulled the flap aside and motioned Tommy forward. "Go on, it'll be our secret." he said as Tommy moseyed inside in no particular hurry.
The man quickly closed the flap behind them as he stepped inside with Tommy, a teenage boy stood just inside. The man gestured to the flap and the boy stepped out, clearly to mind the shop. Just in front of him Tommy could see the first waxworks, an elderly man cutting a childs hair in a barbershop.
"That's Abraham Maxwell of Moose Jaw, Canada. Greatest barber in the whole city!" The man sounded proud of the set-up. Tommy had never seen a barbers, his mother always cut his hair at home.
The man motioned to Tommy that he should follow him, Tommy was getting the nickel tour for nothing.
"Here we have John Johanson of Butte, Montana. The greatest bartender in their fair city." The blonde wax man stood behind a wooden bar, just about to pour out a glass of something refreshing. The ma
n led Tommy from diorama to diorama, each showing a snapshot of lives from other towns, cities and states. Tommy enjoyed looking at each one, marvelling at how lifelike the waxworks seemed to be. At the end of the tour the man asked Tommy "Would you like to see how we make the waxworks?"
Tommy stood and thought about it. As he did, he could hear Ian Winston shouting again. The man excused himself, asking Tommy just to think about it while he dealt with the situation. Back at the entrance Ian had changed his mind, he wanted to see everything and he hadn't seen this yet. And he wanted the whole dog and pony show from no-one other than the owner, for him nothing less would suffice. His overly loud demands had been plain for everyone to hear.
The owner had seen people like this before, nothing would placate them so he showed Ian around personally, again giving him the one man tour around the various dioramas. At each, Ian expressed his scorn. Where were the famous people, the celebrities, the stars? Ians tour lasted less than two minutes before reaching the exit where Tommy was still waiting patiently for the owner.
"So son, you want to see how we make the waxworks?" he asked Tommy.
Tommy never got his chance to answer - even though he'd been ready to say thank-you but no, Ian was facing up angrily to the owner. "I demand you show me, I paid full price for this attraction and I insist on seeing everything you have!"
The man turned to Tommy and smiled "Why don't you just go on home son, I think you've had a good day today." Tommy thanked the owner and left the tent.
Inside, the owner led Ian to another flap close by. "Through here sir, just through here. All will be revealed, I promise!"
***
And again the carnival moved on in the night, finished for another year. After a few days Mr and Mrs Winston became concerned that Ian had not returned home.
"Perhaps he ran away with the carnival?" said the Sheriff.
Mr Winston muttered and blustered, maybe no, maybe so. That boy could be mighty headstrong at times.
The following week the carnival started setting up in Clarkesville, Georgia. Pipers Ridge, same as always care of old man Piper.
Across the city the posters were pasted up .
"Come and see the carnival! All The World - In Wax! New Exhibits just in from Ohio!"
THE END.
Authors Notes:-
This was massively inspired by the writing of Ray Bradbury and Stephen King. I thought it was a fairly original idea until my brother pointed out to me "No, that's pretty much the plot of the movie House Of Wax" by which time I was enjoying writing this too much to trash it.
Our hero Tommy Moseley is very much a real person, I went to primary school with him & after asking on Facebook he was kind enough to let me use his name. I offered him the choice of being the villain or the good guy, he's so nice he just said "You choose". Good guy it is then.
Ian Winston is just made up. He is NOT based on anyone I know called Ian. I know a few, and none of you are him, okay?
All the places are real and most were chosen for specific reasons. Sandusky is the location of Leather Goddesses Of Phobos, Lynchburg (which I managed to spell wrongly in the 1st draft) is the home of the Jack Daniels distillery, Butte is one of those places that seems to feature in many American movies and Clarkesville because of the Monkies song.
There was no reason behind Moosejaw, I just loved the name.
Hopefully the ending is clear enough, it was a bit of a struggle to get it down in the end.
About The Author
Ray Daley was born in Coventry & still lives there. He served 6 yrs in the RAF as a clerk & spent most of his time in a Hobbit hole in High Wycombe. He is a published poet & has been writing stories since he was 10. His current dream is to eventually finish the Hitch Hikers fanfic novel he's been writing since 1986.
You can get in touch with him on Twitter @RayDaleyWriter