2 Minute Read

The Fire Eater

Every year a carnival traveled to our little town for the Harvest Festival held at the end of October, and there was always a Fire Eater. 

She was my favorite spectacle of the entire show, not only for her incredible talent, but also her striking beauty. Tall and slender with an otherworldly grace that made me think of the tales of Fae Folk and Selkie women my Nan told me as a child, the Fire Eater had a truly bewitching presence. There were none who could turn their gaze from her once she took the stage to drink molten fire from a small pot. And then she’d exhale it, like a dragon in exquisite woman form, lighting up the night sky with a brilliant fireball and showering the breathless crowd with sparks that spiraled and danced above their heads.

The most memorable part of her appearance was her headdress, which consisted of rams horns gilded at each point with a single golden bell, a bronze bird skull, and flowers, usually marigolds and roses. The bells jingled magically as she moved about the stage, emphasizing the shimmer of her long ink black hair, which fell in a sleek cascade down to her calves.

I remember one night a friend who had far more courage than I approached her after a show and asked what her secret was. How does one learn to drink molten fire? She smiled gently in response, saying nothing, and it was then that we realized she could not speak. Perhaps the fire had burned away her vocal cords. 

One of the stage hands suddenly piped up behind her, “You’d have to be half a demon first.”

We all had a laugh at the joke, but the way the Fire Eater’s eyes sparkled and her grin widened has always made me wonder if the jest had in fact been truth.

✦ FIN ✦