The Cavalcade of Folly

Written by Christine Wichman c. November 2013 – January 2014

Beside the large red velvet tent stood a bald man with a monkey on his shoulder. The monkey looked up toward the sideshow barker, as he brought the candycane striped megaphone to his lips and bellowed;

“Come one, come all, to the Cavalcade of Folly! Step right up and witness Dominique Debeau, the first female Houdini, as she escapes from the cocoon of death!! See the bearded lady and talking chrysanthemums! Right this way folks! Never in your life have you seen such death defying acts! Truths stranger than fiction! Enter the tent if you dare, these are not sights for the feint of heart!”

A young boy of 9, maybe 10 years, approached the ticket booth and reached into his back pocket for the last of his change.

“Is this enough to see the show?” He looked up into the stern face of an old woman working the booth.

“Says a dollar kid.” She barked, “You’ve only got 89 cents here.”

The boys face fell and disappointment could be heard in his trembling voice.

“Awe, okay then.” The boy reached up to retrieve his coins. The woman’s cold and wrinkled hand took hold of his wrist.

“Hang on a minute kid. I might be able to give you a discount. Do you go to school?”

“Yes Ma’am.” The boy perked up.

“Well kid I guess it’s your lucky day. Today’s special student price is 50 cents.” She plunked his two quarters in the till and placed the remainder in his outstretched palm.

The boy excitedly ran for the tent.

“Hold up there, kid!” She called, waving a golden ticket. “You forgot something.”

The boy hurried back and snatched the ticket with a smile. He could hardly wait to get behind the red velvet flap to see for himself the first ever lady Houdini.

He had heard of Dominique Debeau, read about her in the papers, and seen posters and photographs of her all over town. The image struck him now as he searched the tent for signs of her. Tied up in her “cocoon of death”. A dark haired woman with a frail face and wide eyes, skin as pale as a ghost, lips like blood.

It was dark in the tent, almost spooky. The only bits of light were shadows from the daylight seeping in through tiny gaps at the bottom and sides of the tent.

Within the tent were small curtained booths displaying the afore mentioned attractions.

In the first booth sat a large lady in a tiny sequin dress. She indeed had facial hair and was gazing at herself in a hand held mirror. The boy smelled a fake right away, as he got closer and squinted his eyes.

“Glue and horse hair.” He muttered to himself.

In the next booth behind a sparkly silver curtain sat a row of flowers each in their own terra cotta pot. Brightly colored Chrysanthemums. The fanciful script on a chalkboard that hung over them read. “Talking Chrysanthemums.” The boy read further, “Ask a question out loud and the flowers will answer you.”

“Hmm,” thought the boy, “what should I ask?”

“Ask anything!” said the flower.

The boy looked up to see which flower had spoken. He did not see anything move or gesture toward him. Probably another fake, he thought in silence.

Just then a small voice whispered, “Come here boy.”

Oh no, was that the flower again? The boy was beginning to get frightened.

“Behind you.” she laughed.

The boy turned to see a mysterious woman in a white suit beneath a large movie star hat.

She bent down to his level and whispered again, “Do you know who I am?”

She had the same voice as the flower. “Are you a Chysanthemum?”

The lady laughed again. “Do I look like a flower?”

“No, you are prettier than a flower.” The boy grinned sheepishly.

“My name is Dominique. I am suppose to be preforming just over there,” She pointed toward the center of the tent to a stage that was lit by footlights and had a glass box containing the “cocoon of death” just off to the side.

“However I have been called away on urgent business, so I need you to deliver this note to the Barker out front.” She placed a sealed airmail envelope in the boys hands, kissed him on the forehead and scurried out the back flap of the tent.

“Wait.” The boy pleaded, “Come back. Don’t go.”

It was too late, she had fled and now he would never see the trick he had longed to witness, the only trick in this place that was most likely not a fake.

He then looked down at the envelope in his hand knowing he should hurry off and find the barker, but curiosity got the best of him and he tore open the envelope and began to unfold the letter inside. Before he could get past the words “Dear John,” a voice spoke up loud and clear.

“Naughty Boy! Stop it at once!”

The boy looked everywhere to see who was addressing him. Finally his eyes fixed on the purple chrysanthemum, it’s side stem suddenly bent to rest on the main stem giving the appearance of a scolding woman with her hand on her hip. The third stem then began to raise itself and wag it’s leaf at him like a finger.

“She trusted you with her deepest secret. You have no right to invade the great lady’s privacy, go now, and do as you were told!”

Too frightened to do anything but what he was told. The boy ran from the tent straight to the Barker and without a word, shoved the letter into his hand. Never to doubt or question the miraculous Cavalcade of Folly ever again!

Dominique’s heels clicked along the station platform, her tortoise shell make up case in one hand, and her round crocodile valise in the other. The train whistle expelled three deep blows and steam poured from the tracks as the engine reared like a stallion ready at the gate.

The conducter swung out onto the boarding steps, cupped his hand over his mouth and announced. “All aboard! Last train to White River Junction! ……Allll aboard!!”

Dominique began to run in tiny clacking steps toward him. The conductor reached out for her and scooped her up, squeezing the beauty and her baggage through the tiny portal with grace. Her large hat barely a fit.

She nodded, “Thank you Sir.”

The conductor nodded back, “Let me take your bags Madame.” He then placed them in the luggage compartment and asked for her ticket.

“I’m afraid I don’t have it Sir. It was purchased for me by a gentleman. I’m meeting him on the train.” Dominique batted her long silk lashes and waited for the go ahead.

“Well that is fine Madame. I will come round and collect your ticket after the meal is served.”

He tipped his hat and Dominique smiled her good bye.

Making her way down the train aisle she peered beyond the glass of each individual compartment.

Finally she spotted what she was looking for, a dashing young gentlemen in a dark suit, gold initial “C” cufflinks, and a long cigarette protruding from his full lips. The gentleman took a deep drag, and expelled tiny rings that conjoined together in a most unique pattern. Looking up through the smoke he caught sight of Dominique standing there, a wide white grin beneath a large glamourous hat.

He winked and patted at the red velvet seat, motioning her to sit down beside him. Hastily she slid the glass and wooden door open, gliding in with a giggle and perching herself in his lap. She snatched the cigarette from his lips and crushed it into the arm chair ashtray.

“Really Darling must you?” She scolded.

He shrugged, lamenting the loss of his first cigarette in a week. Then with a cautiously wicked smile, he planted a long soft kiss on her welcoming lips.

“I’m glad to see Johnny was not the man for you.”

She bent her head down on to his shoulder and nuzzled in.

“When he proposed last night, I felt the wind knocked out of me. It was such a shock.” She continued, ” I mean as a boss he was great, treated me like the true star of the show…”

“As he should, my Dear, you are the brightest star, too good for a two bit Montreal side show. I plan to book you as the biggest thing to ever hit New York, London and Paris, perhaps even Rome! Your name will be on the lips of every man, woman, and child across two continents!” His voice was soothing, and full of promises.

Dominique purred in his hold. “I trust you Charles, truly I do, but isn’t that slightly ambitious?”

“Ambition is my middle name Dear, and Gumption is my first.” He winked, reaching across her body for his poured Martini. He offered her a sip. ” A little Rinka Dinka Doo, to celebrate your new life my Dear?”

“So sure of yourself Charles.” She stated with worry.

“No Dominique, I am sure of YOU.”

“Well then that worries me,” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked him in the eye,

“You have promised me the world Charles, and I have some doubts.”

“Doubts now? Oh Darling, what has you worried? Go ahead ask me anything about the plan, we have miles to go and I am all yours for cross examination.“

The look on his face made Dominique laugh. She took the Martini from his hand, tipped it back and in one swallow drank the whole of it’s contents.

“Ah much better.” She beamed. “Alright Mister, prepare yourself for a full cross examination.”

Dominique awoke to an empty train car. Panic set in, as her thoughts immediately went to being abandoned by the man she loved, which then caused her to spiral into thoughts of her own abandonment of Johnny, the man who loved her. She tried to imagine his reaction when the little boy handed him her letter and he realized she had not only turned down his proposal, but run off with his only brother.

She gazed out the train window seeing nothing of the beautiful countryside, instead she was lost in a haze of her own regrets. Poor Johnny, he really did nothing to deserve such a blow.

When Johnny read the letter he crumpled the pages and threw them to the ground.

“You okay boss?” Harry, the strong man was concerned. Johnny looked as if someone had just died.

“Cancel the show tonight.” Johnny barked. “In fact cancel the show indefinitely. I’m going to New York.”

Johnny stormed off to his tent leaving a trail of questions. The Cavalcade of Folly had never been canceled in all of it’s years running up and down the Canadian Coast. It ran on a dime. Consistently perfect night after whimsical night. However with it’s star gone and the barker’s heart broken, the show most definitely could not go on.

Dominique’s hand brushed up against an envelope on the seat beside her.

“Oh no this is it.” She thought, my own Dear John letter. She did not think she was hard on Charles last night, but she did have questions about their future together and thought it best to be upfront and honest with him from the start. Perhaps she pushed him over the edge with her doubts.

My Darling,

I hope you have rested well, and awoken to another fine day in paradise.

The Paradise that begins with you and me. Last night was wonderful, having

you all to myself at last. While you were asleep in my arms I knew I had to prove

myself worthy of you. That is why I am off now, arranging a special surprise.

When the train stops in Vermont I want you to go into the station.

A chauffeur called Tom will meet you there and deliver you back to me…

Yours,

Charles

Dominique held the letter to her lips kissing it, and then she inhaled the scent, the scent of

a man who was keeping his word. She then excitedly packed up her belongings and readied herself for departure.

The train slowed into White River Junction and the conductor announced their arrival. When Dominique pushed through the disembarking crowd, she lost a shoe and had to go back for it.

“Forget something?” A low familiar voice spoke, offering up her satin shoe.

When she looked up from under her wide brim hat, she saw that it was Johnny. Her stomach lurched and she could barely find her voice.

“What are you doing here John? Why did you follow me?”

Johnny grabbed her wrist.

“I can’t lose you now, please come back to the show, we don’t have to get married.”

“I’m sorry John. I explained in the letter, I want bigger things in life. I want to see the world. This is the first time I’ve ever been out of Canada.”

He could see the pity in her eyes, a pity he could almost mistake for love.

“Fine, let my brother show you the world Dominique. I must warn you though, he has no heart, only money and time.”

“I’m truly sorry John. I never meant to lead you on, or give you hope…you have been so good to me.”

“Just go Dominique. I will see you in New York.” His face was stern, sad and pale all at once.

“You’re coming to my show?”

“Of course, do you think I would miss it? I taught you everything you know, I want you to succeed. I will be there cheering you on.”

Somehow Dominique could believe this of Johnny. He was a good man through and through.

With a heavy heart she looked back only once to see him still standing there like a lost little boy.

A formally dressed chauffeur was calling out her name, “Dominique Debeau. Dominique Debeau…”

“Tom?”

The gentleman tipped his hat in her direction and she handed over her bags.

“This way Madame.” Tom lead her to a shiny long red convertible.

They sped out of the station onto a winding country road. Dominique had to replace her hat with a silk scarf, to keep her pinned hair from blowing. It was a beautiful day indeed. Blue skies and white scampering clouds. She could smell the distant pine and spruce trees and took great pleasure in the bright autumn leaves.

Suddenly Tom had to put on the brakes as a large buck leapt in front of them. Dominique braced herself and let out a gasp.

“My apologies Madame. It’s deer mating season in these parts, and the males are going wild.”

“How is that?” Dominique was a city girl, she had never even seen a deer until just now.

“Well you see Madame, the young bucks grow their antlers just before the season begins and will fight another male for the right to mate with a particular female.” He continued, “So you may even see some sparring going on if you’re lucky.”

“Sounds rather sad to me.” Lamented Dominique.

Just then Tom went off the road into the dirt and handed a handkerchief over the back of the seat to his passenger.

“Best cover your mouth Madame as I may create a dust getting us to our final destination.”

Dominique could see they were on their way to a remote spot, as they bumped along over tree roots and small boulders.

“Will this cause damage to your Motor car Tom?” Dominique was worried.

“Most likely.” Shrugged Tom. “But it’s not mine, belongs to Mr. Cassey.”

Dominique smiled, ah another surprise. She was beginning to like how things materialized for Charles. It was a different kind of magic, but a magic all the same.

The motor began to slow as they came upon a steep hill. Fearing a stall, Dominique wondered how she would hike the rest of the way in her pretty, yet useless, shoes.

“Here we are.” Announced Tom, as he killed the engine.

Dominique raised herself to peek over the hill and could see nothing. Tom then opened the back door and she hopped out eager to take in the view. Nothing but burning leaves and the glow of a golden light for miles.

“These colors cannot be real.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Just follow that little path there Madame and beware any battling bucks.” Laughed Tom.

Before she could say Thank you, Tom was off down the hill.

Five or six steps on the path and Dominique came through a curtain of branches, when she cleared them away, she could not believe her eyes.

There was Charles seated a top a blue woolen blanket stretched out in the midst of a golden meadow. A replica Fortnum & Mason 1730 Hamper at the center and all the fixings laid out, as if for a Queen. Delicacies such as game pies, fresh bread, West Country butter, scotched eggs, rich fruit cake, and mineral water.

“Welcome to the rest of your life My Darling,” called Charles, puffing away on a tiny carrot as if it were a cigarette.

Dominique clapped her hands with delight, kicked off her shoes, and ran the rest of the way to greet him.

After a few blissful days in the country, Dominique and Charles were back on the train and heading for his Penthouse in New York City. Opening Night was in two weeks and Dominique needed to begin rehearsals immediately. There would be many elaborate changes to her act. More fanfare, flash, and flourish than could ever be possible in a side show tent.

“What’s with the faraway look?” Inquired Charles, putting down his newspaper.

“Just thinking about the show. I guess I’m a bit nervous doing it all on my own.” Dominique tugged at her white glove while she spoke.

“You are not alone Darling, I will be right there in the wings for encouragement.”

“I know you will, but, well…John always had this way of cueing my timing, just a look he would cast my direction.”

“Well, I’ve hired the best of the best to create your new show. You have nothing to worry your silly little head over…”

Dominique cast her eyes down, still unsure.

“I wasn’t going to tell you this just yet, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I can see you need some reassurance. I suppose I will have to let the cat out of the bag.” Charles was grinning.

“Oh what is it Charles? I want to know everything. I don’t like mysteries, tell me at once.” Dominique was on the edge of her seat, leaning toward her cross legged beau opposite her.

“I’ve hired Hardeen to produce your new show.”

“Hardeen Houdini?” Dominique’s jaw hit the floor.

“One and the same. With Harry’s little brother and the talents of Dominique Debeau on one stage. We are going to be the toast of the town.” His grin turned to an exhuberant laugh.

“I knew I couldn’t keep that secret for long. And the expression there on your face has made it all worthwhile.”

Dominique was speechless. Harry Houdini was her childhood hero, her lifetime muse. She took his death very hard, for with him, went her dream of ever meeting him in person and learning first hand the tricks of his trade. Hardeen was the next best thing. A strange feeling overcame Dominique, she felt awash in worry and wonder all at the same time. Perhaps It was all moving too fast, all of her dreams suddenly coming true in the blink of an eye.

Moving from the train to the chauffeur and experiencing the enormous skyscrapers, Dominique was in awe of New York’s glitz and glamour, there was so much to take in.

“Mrs. Gordon has arranged your quarters in the Penthouse Darling, I do hope you will be pleased.” Charles went on explaining the lay of his 5th Avenue residence and the role of Mrs. Gordon as housekeeper and assistant.

“She runs a tight ship, and is quite the character, I’m sure you will both get on famously.”

“It she matronly? Or one of the pin ups you usually hire as help?” Teased Dominique.

“She is an Old Dear, straight off the boat from Glasgow, her family has been raised. She came to New York to look up an elderly sister, cared for her only a few months until she passed, so now she works for me.”

“She sounds like a sweet old thing.” Smiled Dominique as Charles took her hand and led her into the high rise he called home.

The Doorman, Gus, greeted them with two head nods, one for “Mr. Cassey” and the other for “Madame.”

The guilded Art Deco doors to the elevator peeled open revealing purple velvet and mirrors, as well as the elevator operator, Stan “Good Afternoon Mr. Cassey. Good Afternoon, Madame.”

He pressed the number 21 and the elevator took off like a rocket. When the doors opened they reveled a lavish marble and black interior, gold chandeliers and green velvet furnishings. It was stunning.

A round faced, grey haired woman as wide as she was tall came scurrying out to greet them.

“Oh Mr. Cassey, we’ve just finished the ladies Suite. A minute sooner and you would have caught us all in disarray.” Her giggle was contagious.

“Mrs. Gordon, may I introduce Miss Dominique Debeau. Miss Debeau, this is Mrs. Gordon.”

“Oh please call me Norah.” The woman shook Dominique’s hand with fervor.

“Well then, I insist you call me Dominique.”

“Alright then Dominique may I show you to your rooms, you must be exhausted from your journey.”

Norah led Dominique down a long tiled hallway to a set of black and gold ornate double doors. The sweet lady then opened up the first door proudly displaying a lovely sitting room and then giving her the tour of her equally elegant bedroom, ensuite bath, and tiny kitchenette.

“The windows can stick a bit, fresh paint and all, so just give us a holler if you need any assistance getting them open or shut.” Norah began to demonstrate and then noted aloud.

“What in the world…there is thatpesky pigeon again. Been sitting on that same gargoyle for days.”

Dominique craned her head toward the window to have a look. Immediately she recognized the bird,

and it startled her. It was one of Johnny’s homing pigeons. She was sure he was there to deliver a message. Politely she began to hurry Mrs. Gordon out of the room, so she could engage the bird to retrieve her message.

“Thank you Mrs. Gordon, I mean Norah..I do appreciate all you have done to welcome me here. It seems you were correct I am a bit tired from the journey. Do you mind leaving me to rest a bit and settle in?”

“Not at t’all my Dear. But you are looking in a state of widdendream, if I may say so. Must be all the excitement ey?”

“Widdendream?” Dominique had never heard that term.

“Yes, tis an old scottish word Dear, meaning a state of confusion…as if you were bewildered and dazed by it all.”

“Well yes, that I am. You know it is quite daunting having one’s Dream come to life. Leaves me a bit..well…” Dominique searched for a word.

“Fearful?” Mrs. Gordon filled in the blank.

“Yes I suppose.” Concluded Dominique.

“Well our Dreams and our Fears are often one and the same.” Said Mrs. Gordon wisely. “Having a dream come true can be the scariest adventure of all. I wish you luck Dear. I’m sure it will all work out just fine in the end.”

With that Mrs. Gordon closed the door behind her and Dominique hurried back to the window, giving it a hard push, causing the pigeon to flutter off it’s gargoyle perch. The bird then flew into the sitting room, and landed on a Lalique vase, tilting it’s wobbly head toward her, it began to speak.

“Well it’s about time. I’ve been waiting out there for days.” Sniped the talking bird.

“Alright then, Walter…let’s have it,” Dominique pulled up a chair and looked into the bird’s eye. “What does John, have to tell me now?”

The Pigeon cocked his head again and stumbled off the vase. Walter was quite clumsy at times, he flapped his wings to regain his balance and shot across the room alighting upon a bottle of London Dry Gin, which subsequently wobbled right off the black leather bar cart.

“Oh dear. Sorry ’bout that.” He apologized.

Fortunately, it wasn’t broken and Dominique was quick to return it to it’s proper spot between the Vermouth and Bitters. Duly noting that Charles had furnished her with all the ingredients for her favorite cocktail, A Gin Sling.

“Please sit still Walter, and just tell me why John has sent you all this way.” Continued Dominique.

“No need to be huffy Madame. He only has your best interests at heart. He wants me to warn you not to include the “Cocoon of Death” in your new show.” Stated the bird.

Dominique laughed, a hearty laugh.

“Well I am afraid that is impossible. The “Cocoon of Death” is my greatest feat, it has put me on the map and led me to this opportunity in the first place. Houdini had his “Milk Can Escape”, and I have the “Cocoon of Death”. John knows I left the original with him. Charles and Hardeen will be creating a grander one for the stage here. I have not taken a thing from John or his precious “Cavalcade of Folly”. I left with nothing but my own knowledge, and the clothes on my back. He does not own me. Nor my talents.” Dominique was beginning to get angry.

“You don’t understand what I’m saying.” Walter spoke calmly, with a hint of urgency. “This warning is for your own good, it is not a threat.”

“No, I suppose I will never understand what John means. Everything about that man is a mystery to me. That is why I decided Charles should have a chance. He answers my questions, when I ask. He reveals himself to me.” A black curl fell across Dominique’s eye as she lowered her head and voice, as if she were about to cry.

“Can I tell you something Madame?” The Bird whispered.

Dominique nodded, still staring at the floor.

“There is a lot you don’t know about Johnny Cassey, I have known him much longer than you. For instance do you know why it is, I can speak? Why the Chrysanthemums speak?”

“Well, John always told me, he found you that way. The great discovery, that began his show in the first place. He mentioned that as a young man, he came across a barn full of talking pigeons and a field of talking flowers.”

They both laughed, as it all sounded so ridiculous when she said it out loud.

“That is not the truth, and I am sure you never believed a word of that story. Would you like me to tell you how the “Cavalcade of Folly” truly came into existence?”

Deep down Dominique had always had her suspicions about the magical elements surrounding John. However, accepting his trite explanation seemed easier than bending her mind around the grander scheme of things.

“Well I suppose you are going to tell me anyhow, so go ahead Walter, I’m all ears.” Dominique collapsed onto the satin chaise and prepared herself for a very long story.

Meanwhile downstairs, Mrs.Gordon was receiving a most distinguished guest and leading him to the study.

“Right this way Sir, Mr. Cassey is expecting you.”

Norah lightly knocked on the study door and then opened it without hearing a response, or saying a word.

Charles quickly rose from his desk at the sight of his guest and hurried over to shake his hand.

“Hardeen ol’ chap, by all means come in, come in.” Glancing at his mantle clock Charles announced,

“Well, you’re a half hour late.”

“Only a half hour? I’m usually forty-five minutes late. I’m early today. ” Chuckled Hardeen.

Charles offered Hardeen a drink and a cigarette to start their business meeting. Hardeen refused both and began his pitch.

“We’re gonna turn this town upside down. My ideas are going to amaze you my friend. I’ve been at it for weeks now, reconfiguring and recalculating routines I was saving for myself and my own new show, but now they are all scaled and suited for this tiny little lady of yours. Her beauty alone will draw them for miles, and with my name attached, we will be rolling in dough!”

“I like how you think Sir. I am sure we are going to be the best of partners.” Charles patted the younger Houdini on the back and they continued to talk over the details of the show and set a date for the first rehearsal.

“Would you like to meet her now?” Charles was anxious to surprise Dominique with an introduction to this man who would mean so much to her. Deep down Charles loved being responsible for her happiness, it thrilled him somehow to know that he was outdoing his own brother.

Growing up, John and Charles were often rivals for their mother’s affection. Their father was a bit of a gypsy and a wanderer. He essentially abandoned them right after Charles was born. Charles often had the sense that Johnny was his mother’s favorite. She doted on him and taught him her own secret language, a language she described as the Ancestors tounge. Charles never understood it and somehow that made him feel like an outsider in his own family.

Charles smiled wide as he led Hardeen upstairs to Dominique’s quarters, knowing this would be the first of many surprises he had in store for her.

Upstairs Dominique and Walter were engaged in a deep and riveting conversation.

“So Walter, you are telling me, that John is fully responsible for your ability to speak?”

“Yes. I am. Let me explain it again. All animals, plants, and living beings have the ability to communicate. Ours is a silent language, along with physical cues. Although your human brains are capable, you do not use them to their full extent. You see, we animals and plants primarily communicate through telepathy. You think us stupid, because we are silent. You think us unfeeling because you do not speak our language. Johnny Cassey is a rare and special human being, he understands OUR language. With great patience, he taught us to form sounds for our thoughts, to actually speak YOUR language.”

Dominique suddenly understood, and was amazed by this revelation.

As she was about to inquire just what else John’s mind was capable of, she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“Quick, Walter, you have to go now. Charles is coming.” Dominique began to shoo the bird toward the open window.

“But there is more…I have more to tell you…” Walter flapped and circled above her as she chased him away.

“Please Walter, you must go now.”

The bird complied with her wishes, and flew off into the grey clouds above the city.

Walter soared across central park, dipping down, only for a few moments to observe what the other rock pigeons were doing this early evening, in the bitter cold. The sky was beginning to show signs of rain. Walter could not put off delivering the news of his failed attempt to warn Miss Debeau any longer, so he ruffled up his feathers and took flight toward the top tower of the Pierre Hotel.

Perching on the sill of a slightly open window he looked in on his friend. Johnny was curled up in the fetal postion atop a ruffled duvet in the middle of an enormous bed. Still in his coat and shoes from the day before. Walter flapped and flapped, while clearing his throat to wake him. Johnny began to toss and turn. Walter could see he was in deep, and decided to let the poor fellow rest.

Somewhere between wake and sleep Johnny was having one of his dreams again. A Dream of her. She always visited him around this time of year, from just beyond. Beautiful Maeve Cassey, a shimmer of light and a wisp of sound.

“Johnny boy. Do not give up hope. Where your heart lies, there is always hope. Let her go. She must choose you of her own free will, not by force.”

Mother’s voice always rang like a tiny bell in his dreams. A frequency of sound that resonated deeply in his soul.

Suddenly the bedside telephone began to ring.

Johnny had incorporated it into his dream and failed to answer, by the third ring Walter flew in and knocked the receiver off it’s hook.

“Shhhh we’re sleeping.” He whispered into the phone.

It was the shushing that woke Johnny. He rubbed his eyes with his forearm as he turned, revealing a shocking pile of touseled hair and squinty red eyes. In a croaky sleepish voice he spoke.

“Walter, is that you? Was the phone ringing?? Who was it?”

“Unknown Caller Sir. They’ve hung up now.”

Johnny slowly got himself into a seated position over the side of the bed. One sleeve still rubbing his eyes, he reached over with his left hand and grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. He then took a huge swig.

“Uhhhggh.” The taste was clearly awful, but it did the job of fully waking him.

“Alright then Walter, let’s hear it. What did she say? I’ve been waiting two days for word from you.”

“Sorry ’bout that Sir, They only arrived this afternoon. I suppose they stayed in Vermont after all. I was freezing my tail feathers off out there….”

“Enough complaining Walter, did you see her or not?”

Johnny always came off a bit curt and gruff, when he spoke. Which was only the tough exterior protecting a much softer core.

“Well yes, I spoke with her and I gave her your warning…only I was not able to explain everything properly. I don’t know if she understands the dire predicament she is facing Sir.” The Birds head wobbled up and down as he spoke.

“Well this is just superb. I have no way of getting through to her now. She wants nothing to do with me, and if I am within three feet of my Brother….I don’t know what I am capable of.”

Johnny picked up the Whiskey bottle again and hurled it past the bird, smashing it into pieces against the wall mirror. A string of curse words followed. Poor Walter’s feathers were flying in distress.

“Come on now Johnny, get a hold of yourself. There has to be a way, to protect her. Calm down, we will think of something.”

Johnny collapsed on the bed, and pounded his fists against the pillow.

“I hate to see you like this Johnny, you’re a Saint about to fall. Don’t let them turn you into someone you’re not.” Walter pleaded.

Johnny laughed through his tears.

“A Saint? My Mother use to see me that way, and now you. But I am far from a Saint, Walter, I have no idea who I am anymore. Without Dominique, and without the “Cavalcade of Folly”, I am nobody…nobody.”

Johnny continued to sob into the pillow as Walter looked on from the bed post.

Finally he had cried himself back to sleep and Walter decided the only thing to do was fly back to the Penthouse and finish his explanation. He felt like such a failure not completing the mission.

The rain was coming down pretty hard now and the skies were dark, but the penthouse was less than a mile away by route of the park, so Walter made it back to his gargoyle post in no time at all.

When he peered into the window, the figures looked fuzzy but he could make out Dominique and Charles just fine. There was a third man however whom he did not recognize. The man was shaking Dominique’s hand and pouring on the charm.

Walter knew he’d have to wait it out again until the lady was alone. So he stood watch patiently.

Beyond the window Dominique, though thrilled to meet Hardeen at last, was mortified that Charles had caught her off guard and not given her ample time to freshen up after the journey into the city.

“Charles may I have a word please?“ Dominique took her beau by the arm and scolded him in a whisper, “ How could you bring him up here? Look at me. I’m a dreadful sight.”

“You look perfectly divine to me Darling, what’s all the fuss?” Charles had no idea that a man’s view of perfection and a woman’s, were worlds apart.

“Will you allow me a few moments to pull myself together please?” Dominique then returned to their guest.

“Please excuse me Hardeen, I have waited so long to meet you, you’ve caught me by surprise. I don’t suppose you would be willing to have a drink and settle in, while I freshen up a bit?”

“Not at all, that sounds like a splendid idea. I’ve just been eyeing that bottle of fine and rare Macallan over on the bar cart.”

Without hesitation Charles began to pour them both a glass.

“Take your time Darling, we will entertain ourselves here, just fine.” Charles looked over his shoulder at Hardeen.

“Neat or on the rocks Ol’ chap?”

“By all means neat Sir.” He chuckled, leaning back into the sofa and putting one foot up on the coffee table.

Dominique hurried into the adjacent bedroom and began to unpack her bag, in search of suitable evening attire.

Walter flew to the bedroom window and tapped away trying to draw her attention. Dominique was so caught up and in a hurry she took no notice of the bird, at all.

Walter knew the sitting room window was cracked open just a bit. In a desperate attempt he decided to sneak through that window, and then shimmy his way through the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Without fluttering he walked himself in the window and then hopped down onto the floor. Taking careful steps toward the bedroom door.

Dominique called out “I’m going to just have a quick bath gentlemen, be right with you.”

Walter tried to hurry before she went in and shut the bathroom door.

Charles shouted back, “Hardeen and I are thinking of taking you out to dinner and a show, how does that sound my Dear?”

Dominique was thrilled by the thought of a New York supper club, she had heard so much about them.

“Sounds Divine.” She called from the tiled and echoing bathroom.

Smiling toward Hardeen Charles beamed. “Told you she would be pleased with that idea.”

Charles reached into his suit pocket and offered Hardeen a cigar.

“Thank you kindly.” Hardeen snatched it up and Charles lit it with his silver monogrammed lighter.

He then lit one for himself and whispered to Hardeen,“Let’s not tell Dominique shall we, she has a fit when I smoke.”

Hardeen slapped his knee and snorted, “Sounds like my old gal. Your secret is safe with me.”

The smoke from the cigars caused Walter to react and he began to cough, not like a pigeon would, but as a human would.

“Blimey, what is that sound? Is there someone there?” Hardeen could hear the cough from behind the sofa.

Charles peered behind the sofa and spotted Walter.

“Well well, if it isn’t one of my brother’s fine feathered friends.” Charles lunged toward Walter and attempted to grab him.

Walter raced away and created quite a commotion. In his attempt toward the window, Charles quickly shut it and exclaimed.

“Oh no little pigeon. You’re mine now!”

Hardeen was speechless.

Charles then picked up the house phone and rang Mrs.Gordon.

“Yes Sir, what can I do for you?” She answered

“Mrs. Gordon, I’m in need of a bird cage.”

Room service had arrived with a new bottle of Green River Whiskey. Johnny opened the door in a groggy state and pointed to the night table, while reaching into his jacket pocket for a tip.

“Will that be all Sir?” The hotel employee eyed the cracked mirror and broken bottle on the floor. “Shall I send up a Housemaid Sir?”

“No, no I do not want to be disturbed.” Johnny peeled out a fresh roll of cash and put it in the boy’s hand.

“For the damages, and for your silence young man.”

The boy looked pleasantly surprised and exited quickly.

Johnny returned to the edge of the bed and began to open up the new bottle. He then stared at the label contemplating just how he got to this place.

His mind raced back to the first night he knew he was in love with Dominique. The show had been running only a month and they were geered more for the adult audience than the kiddie crowd, which Johnny later learned pulled in more dough, so they tamed everything down quite a bit…but in the beginning they had more risque acts than they could handle, there were shaggy dogs disguised as black sheep, for a “Little Bo Peep Peep Show” and a knife thrower who threw knives releasing the tear away costume of a buxom blonde debutante, supposedly chosen from the audience.

Johnny remembered vividly the night he came to Dominique’s dressing room to congratulate her on finally mastering the Cocoon of Death…

She had not heard him as he lifted the flap of her blue silk tent, and he saw her standing in front of a full length mirror adjusting a shimmery beige corset. The corset and stockings, were a seemless extension of her pale peach skin and if it were not for the fur hoof and golden gun stillettos, she would have appeared completely unclothed.

Catching sight of him in the mirror, she gasped…”Oh John, I didn’t see you there. Do you like it?” She turned toward him revealling her beauty. “I thought it would help with the illusion, the audience will see so little of me, and more of the cocoon.”

Dominique had come up with a costume that completely sent Johnny over the moon.

“It’s brilliant my love…I mean uh.. My Dear.” Johnny was blushing at the slip. Laughing it off he grabbed her and twirled her around. “This is incredible. Who made those shoes?”

“I did. We gals are multi-talented you know.” Dominique kicked up her heel to show it off.

“Can you walk in those?” Johnny laughed.

“Watch me.” Dominique strutted and pirouetted across the floor as if she were a tight rope dancer.

Johnny applauded and whistled. “Tonight will be a triumph! I cannot wait to see your act!”

“I can’t do it without you John.” Dominique winked.

You most certainly can not. Thought Johnny.

That thought reeling him right back to the matter at hand.

“If Dominique attempts the Cocoon of Death without my telekinetic release, she will surely suffocate and die.”

Fearing the impending rehearsal, Johnny knew he was running out of time. Walter’s attempt failed and he was no where to be found, so it was time for plan B.

Johnny rifled through his suitcase until he found a leather bound journal, the pages tattered and worn. It was his diary, containing a succession of love poems he had secretly written for Dominique, as well as every last secret about his own talents. He decided he had nothing left to lose and she needed to know everything.

He took the brown paper that lined the serving tray beneath the whiskey and he wrapped up his journal inside it, holding it together with an extra pair of shoe laces. He then wrote on the front:

“Long lost words…Whisper Slowly.“

Moments later the same boy from Room Service returned and Johnny handed him the package with a note.

Please Deliver to: Dominique Debeau

1040 Fifth Avenue

Penthouse 21

****************

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.
~Albert Einstein

A few weeks had passed and a calm came over central park. Autumn was slowly becoming winter. Dominique and Hardeen had been in the theatre night and day learning his new routines. The revised Cocoon of Death was still being assembled. Which did not worry Dominique. She boasted to Charles and Hardeen, that she preferred to leave that performance to the night of the show.

“I can do it in my sleep, with my hands tied and my eyes blindfolded.” She teased. “Let’s give the audience the thrill they’re paying for.”

Hardeen and Charles agreed that it would indeed create some suspense, so the Cocoon of Death was being billed as a first time performance before a live audience on opening night.

Posters, advertisements, and pages in the New York Journal American were circulating quite a buzz.

Dominique had been so busy in rehearsals, she never saw the light of day, nor the publicity for the new show. She was up at 5 am and in bed by 10 pm. Sneaking in a few meals a day. Fortunately Mrs. Gordon was sure to bring her a late supper, on a nightly basis.

Charles and Hardeen were constantly scheming new angles to the show, having to push back the opening due to losing Cole Porter in favor of Harold Arlen for the musical score.

“Poor chap,” Hardeen mentioned in passing. “We should go visit him in hospital you know. I hear they want to amputate his legs.”

“Charles we must go at once.” Dominique interjected. “I’ve always had a fear of horses myself. To be thrown like that, and nearly killed, poor Mr. Porter. He must have a guardian angel looking over him. Do you think he will ever walk again?”

“The doctors say no, but his wife is in from Paris now, she is supporting his decision to keep the legs.” Charles furrowed his brow. “Well what do you say we take Saturday to visit the poor fellow?”

Dominique was pleased to see Charles demonstrating some empathy for a change.

When Saturday came, Dominique was so exhausted all she wanted was to sleep the day away. Mrs. Gordon however, woke her with a knock at the door and came bearing a tray full of breakfast savories.

“Miss Debeau. I have something rather urgent to discuss with you.” Mrs. Gordon looked quite distressed.

“What is it Norah?” Dominique sat up and peeled off her satin sleep mask.

“I don’t know where to begin Miss. After encountering a certain Pigeon, and having this in my possession, my soul will not allow me to stay silent.”

Mrs. Gordon pulled from her apron pocket the tattered and worn pages of Johnny’s journal.

“I promised myself that before the last leaf falls, I would bring this to your attention Miss.” Mrs. Gordon began to tear up…and used her apron to dry her eyes.

Before Dominique could speak, Mrs. Gordon opened the book to a random page and began to read.

“The Cocoon of Death”

The Barker is not
who we first
perceived.
Lucid screams,
can you feel
the salty
mingled tears,
on our nuzzling
embraces?
Just a side show’s
tease,
the risks smaller
than whisking
along the high wire
trapeze.
I fell for you,
and you for me,
no safety net
or hedged regrets.
Still feel
butterfly kisses
soft breath
along the neck,
the nectar
of parted lips
the gasps along
with rippling hips.
But all too soon,
we returned
to fear’s cocoon.
Let’s heed the Barker’s
cry, and journey
back to the Main Event.
Will you fall
for me once more?”

“Mrs. Gordon. What is this book? Who wrote that poem??”

Dominique was very ill at ease. These words stirred something in her. Something she wanted to keep buried, hidden, and far, far away from the new life she was creating.

*************

***Cocoon of Death Poem, Written by the very Talented Dave Raider ***

Story now continues…

Mrs. Gordon began to speak, just as a loud knock thundered against the door.

“Dominique, are you ready? The car is waiting downstairs. Porter is expecting us, Darling.” It was Charles.

“I’m not well Charles. Would you mind terribly going without me? And please send Mr. Porter my kindest regards.” Dominique’s curiosity was peeked and she had no plan for the day, but to finish reading the entirety of this new found journal.

Charles was not happy, but did not force the issue.

“I need you ship-shape for opening night Dear, so do take care of yourself. I will call ’round this evening and check up on you.” He lingered at the door, for her response.

“Thank you Charles. I just need some rest. It has been a grueling two weeks.”

He could not argue with her there. The rehearsals had been maddening at best. Roles, routines, and show titles changing at the drop of hat.

“Until tonight Darling, rest well.” Charles then dashed off to the hospital to pay his respects to Cole Porter.

Mrs. Gordon looked more torn than ever.

“I feel just awful interfering, Miss. Mr. Cassey has been nothing but good to me. I know he can obsess a bit here and there, but all and all he is a man of his word. It’s just that when I talked to, ummm well….the bird.” Mrs. Gordon looked skeptical.

“It’s alright Mrs. Gordon, I know about Walter, I will not think you daft.” Dominique giggled.

Mrs. Gordon was relieved. “Well when Walter, told me about Mr. Cassey’s brother I immediately felt sorry for the poor chap. I was compelled to read the diary, and well, now….I know I must leave it in your hands Miss.”

Norah got up to leave.

“Where is Walter now?” Dominique was worried about the bird.

“I set him free the day after we captured him, told Mr. Cassey he escaped.” Norah smiled to herself.

Dominique smiled back.

“So Charles, put him in a cage did he?” Dominique was not pleased.

“He did Miss, but in fairness, I think both the Mr. Cassey’s have lost sight of what’s at stake here, I think this is an old battle, that you, Miss, are bringing to the surface.”

Dominique swallowed that fact hard and decided to give it all some deep thought.

Morning came and went, Dominique was still ravaging through John’s journal pages, struck by how the old phrase “Still waters run deep.” held so true for this crazy Barker, she thought she had all but figured out. If only he had expressed a quarter of these thoughts to her in the flesh, perhaps then she would have met his feelings half way.

By noon however she came upon some pages she found profoundly disturbing.

In a scrawl of lesser penmanship, appeared a drunken entry.

“Gazing upon the Moth,

I breathe her light

to swallow her beauty…

Gazing upon her death

I consume her flame

to breathe new life.”

On the following page were notes, and a sketch of the Cocoon of Death.

An arrow pointing to the empty cocoon. With Dominique’s name written under it.

An equation…that looked like a principal or formula for something.

And then the words. ABRACADABRA repeating to form a square.

Dominique had no knowledge of real Magic or dark arts, but she had a sense of the supernatural.

This was nothing like the kind of Magic she had studied, nor practiced.

It suddenly dawned on her that John believed HE was responsible for her “Escape”, that he believed HE held the power to control her release from the Cocoon of Death. At first she found the idea absurd and arrogant. Then she realized she had yet to perfom the act outside of his presence.

That thought sent shivers to her core.

Johnny stepped out of the drugstore, paper in one hand and a small black coffee in the other, his hat sat low covering his eyes from the glare of afternoon sun. As he walked, a familiar pigeon followed closely. The New York city sidewalk was Saturday congested and everyone was in a world of their own as they marched ahead, taking no notice of a man conversing with a bird.

“Where we headed Boss?” Chirped Walter.

“The theatre.” Johnny held up the backside of the paper. “Says here opening night is tomorrow, I want to have a look, see what that new contraption is built like.”

Johnny had already read the hype, about Dominique saving the performance for a live debut. So he was relieved she had not attempted the escape yet.

The show was being billed as “Cirque de la Lune.”

A name Dominique and Hardeen came up with. Little did anyone know, that a few revisions had been made when Harold Arlen came aboard.

Johnny and Walter turned onto West 45th street and came upon the facade of the John Golden Theatre, just as a large crane withdrew revealling the marquee title. In bold black letters the title read, “The Cavalcade of Folly.”

Johnny dropped to his knees, as if he had been sucker punched.

Walter perched on the street lamp above him and called down.

“The duck’s quack doesn’t echo. No one knows why….“

Johnny was numb. He had no idea what Walter was babbling on about…He was stunned and defeated.

“Listen to me Johnny…I can see you are clearly upset. I hold you on a level of Zachariah, he is that Duck I speak of, inimitable, one of a kind… You are like him my friend. No one shall echo your greatness. This farce is NOT your folly, it is just another obstacle you shall overcome. Get a hold of yourself man.”

Suddenly a long sleek red convertible sidled up to the curb, a chauffeur stepped out and sauntered around the back, dutifully opening the door.

Johnny was still kneeling on the sidewalk, his eyes cast down. A pair of black shiny wing tips came into view.

“What are you doing here Johnny?” Charles’ voice was soft and monotone.

Johnny looked up at the man in the three piece suit and saw an enemy, not a brother.

He rose up swinging, knocking Charles square on the jaw, sending him reeling. Charles put his hand to his bleeding lip, enraged by the sight of his own blood, he swung back with full force knocking Johnny in the nose.

Walter flapped, and Tom, the chauffeur stepped in to break it up. Fists and arms flew as the row continued and a crowd started to gather.

“Sir, your reputation. You must stop at once.” Reminded Tom.

“Confucious say, Be the DUCK, Be the Duck Johnny…” Walter shouted, his sage advice falling on deaf ears.

After a painful knee blow to the groin, Charles crumbled and called a truce.

“Tom’s right, we should take this up privately. Not here in the streets like urchins.

I can’t have the press getting wind of this the night before the opening.” Complained Charles.

Johnny was speechless as Tom shuffled both the brothers into the car for a discreet exit.

Both worse for wear, with torn garments and bruised faces, Johnny and Charles silently glared at each other for the duration of the ride.

Tom called ahead to the house informing Mrs. Gordon of the incident and requested she have first aid ready upon arrival .

Mrs. Gordon immediately ran up the stairs to Dominique’s quarters, and filled her in on the upsetting encounter.

Moments later Johnny and Charles entered the Penthouse looking a fright.

“Well well Look what the Cat’s drug in…” Greeted Dominique. “I’m ashamed of both of you. This has gone completely too far.”

Dominique then let the boys have it, scolding them as if she were their mother.

“I never meant to come between you boys, honestly…I have had stars in my eyes. I love you both for different reasons…but the truth is… neither Love is enough to keep me here. The show is off. I’ve called Hardeen and he knows I’m out.”

Johnny began to weep and Charles began to shout.

“I mean it. Nothing is worth splitting up family. I will create a new show of my own… and leave you boys to sort through this.” Dominique was saddened by it all, but she knew it was the only way.

“And one more thing John,” Dominique walked up to her old friend, and whispered in his ear.

“I will be alright. I promise.”

*****FIVE MONTHS LATER*****

Searchlights filled the skies above Manhattan, limousines and sedans lined the streets as giddy arrivals walked the red carpet in front of the Princess Theatre. It was opening night, and “The Moonlight Circus” was finally in town.

A small boy of nine or ten, held the hand of his Mother. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to see her.”

“Well you’ve certainly waited long enough, son. We’re just fortunate your Aunt lives in Brooklyn now and could put us up.” Smiled the woman.

“Say Mom, That’s him.” The boy pointed to a distinguished looking man in a three piece pin stripe suit.”

“Who Dear?”

“Him. The Barker, from “The Cavalcade of Folly”…he’s the man she gave the letter to.”

The young mother gawked as if looking at a film star. She then witnessed another dashing man at his side, a taller, dark haired man who flung his arm around the barker and grinned. She overheard him say…

“Well, well big brother looks like she’s outdone us after all.”

They both laughed heartily as a dull grey pigeon hovered and darted, mumbling…in human language, something about a duck.

The boy and his Mother handed over their golden ticket and were led to the main floor of the fanciful theatre.

Johnny and Charles were met by Hardeen and his wife and escorted to the VIP Balcony to the right of the stage. As they were seated an usher approached Johnny and handed him a red velvet box. There was a card attached, that read:

Dear John,

As soon as I enter the Cocoon of Death,

you are required to utilize this blindfold and these earplugs, to disengage all senses from interfering with MY escape.

xx ~ Dominique Debeau

Johnny shook his head, impressed with her bravado and then shared the note with Charles, who raised an eyebrow and shot John a look of curious resolve.

Finally the moment arrived and The Cocoon of Death was revealed behind an opaque silk curtain laden with handmade flowers. Dominique piroutted to the stage, like a butterfly in an improved version of her peach corset and shimmering tights, she had added a pair of gossamer wings and a tiny tiara of Tiffany diamonds.

The boy in the front row gasped at her beauty. His mother equally in awe. Johnny and Charles were both dumfounded.

John taking in the last look before obliging Dominique’s wish. Charles shrugged a sympathetic apology as his brother cut off all sights and sounds of this truly death defying act.

Dominique wiggled herself into the cocoon, dramatically hitting each staccato beat the orchestra provided and with two lovely assistants dressed as chrysanthemums she was tied, locked, and tightly secured into the Cocoon of Death.

One of the chrysanthemums held a large crystal hourglass, and turned it over to display the time as it elapsed……. Soft suspenseful violins began to play….. and the entire theatre fell dead silent.

Moments passed and the vague image of Dominique could be seen wriggling and struggling within the cocoon…..more time passed, and the audience began to whisper, to fear, to struggle with her.

Johnny sat in his own silence. Holding his breath, and keeping his mind a blank slate. He wanted to give her this chance…He wanted to believe in her.

Charles was on the edge of his seat. Taken in with the rest of the audience.

Suddenly the glimmering sands of the hourglass were slipping away completely and the audience grew restless.

Johnny fought his impulse to rip away the blindfold and held tight, against his better judgement.

Charles gripped the arm of his chair, and had to look away.

The boy in the front row, was so frightened, he was on the verge of tears…

Ever so softly, and under her breath, Dominique was chanting slowly…

“Gaze upon me, the Moth…

Breathe in my Light…

Swallow my beauty…

Gaze upon my Death.

Consume my Flame…and

BREATHE NEW LIFE.”

With a strained gasp of relief, Dominique was free….

And the audience was on their feet, with deafening applause.

Charles removed Johnny’s blindfold and hugged his brother.

“She did it!!”

Johnny applauded whole heartedly and echoed with pride, “She did it.”

“I’ll be damned, SHE DID it!”