Freak Show

four

I awake to the sound of the door opening again, and I jerk up, praying that it is Grayson and that he's okay. But, of course, it's just Manson in his stupid sparkly red vest. The look of his pasty white skin reminds me of that of a worm. This time, he has a hat on. A top hat. He bows in front of me, amusing himself. His stage makeup has been reapplied, and he looks ready to go.

"Before we begin your procedure, my dear girl, Aphrodite wants you to attend the show tonight to see for yourself that we are helping. She is quite fond of you." He says, and I almost have a sliver of hope, until he says, "So am I." and my stomach churns. Within seconds, he is in my face, forcing me to kiss him again, I smack at him, begging him to leave me alone, but his surprisingly strong arms hold me to him. When he lets go, I gag, holding my hand to my mouth to try to cover it up. But either Manson doesn't notice, or doesn't care. He throws me a tee shirt and shorts, and I realize to my horror just how short the shorts are. I pull them on, and he hands me some tennis shoes to slide onto my feet and beckons for me to follow.

"Let it be known," he says, before I exit the basement. "That if you embarrass me, or try to do something stupid, I'll kill you with absolutely zero remorse."

I swallow hard,and nod. If I'm going to escape, I need Manson to trust me. I follow him up a crumbling flight of stairs and out a door that leads to outside. The sudden, vivid burst of color is almost too much to handle. The air smells like honeysuckle, and there are several huge big top tents. He slides into one of them, and I follow. There is a huge crowd seated in rows in front of a makeshift stage. Manson leads me to the front and seats me, making sure my eyes meet his and that I understand that if I try anything, he'll kill me. And I believe him. 

I survey the crowd hurriedly, but these people seem almost plastic. They are exquisitely dressed, their attire immaculate and dazzling. They exchange pleasantries and haughty laughs as they perch on their chairs, waiting for the show to start. I am immediately panicked and confused. Do these people know that I have been kidnapped? That we all have? Do they know that Manson has deformed and created all of his monsters? That they are tortured and kept under horrid conditions? My cheeks go scarlet with anger the more I look at their fancy suits and elegant dresses. I wonder why Manson dressed me in such a skimpy fashion if these are the kinds of crowds that his shows attract. 

Manson mounts the stage and in a charismatic manner, tips his hat to the crowd, and they cheer. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen, to Manson's Makeshift Menagerie. I want to express how thankful we are to have you here, and welcome you to our Family of Freaks." He smiles before exiting the stage and plopping down in the chair next to mine. The stage goes dark and suddenly there is a bright spotlight cast dead in the center of the stage. There stands a woman with silver hair, and glittering black eyes. She smirks devilishly at the crowd before flashing her teeth. Each one is shaped to a brilliant point and the crowd gasps as she pulls out a live fish from the bucket next to her and bites into it, chewing the raw meat thoughtfully.

Over the course of the next hour, many oddities were showcased. There was a man with another face attached to the back of his head, that if you really really looked close enough, you could tell had been sewn there, and I almost threw up from thinking about who's face that must have been. There was the Shark Girl, the Two-faced Man, the Tattooed Dynamo, The No-armed Betty, and so many freaks, and each one that came out, the audience cheered louder. Until finally, Manson climbed out of his chair and re-mounted the stage, a huge smile on his face.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" He smiles, and the crowd roars. He holds up his hand, and they fall silent. "But, now, is my most beautiful freak of all." He says,serenely. He walks behind the curtain, out of sight from the audience. And once again, the spotlight is cast, and this time, there isn't a freak, but a boy. A very handsome, very human boy. Grayson. My stomach lurches and my heart swells at the sight of him, alive. He smiles a young, boy-next-door smile, and walks to the front of the stage, and just as the audience is about to get impatient, raises his arms. From behind him, a million softly-downed feathers explode, revealing magnificent wings. They are broad and stark white, and the whole audience is silent, jaws agape, and my jaw rests on the floor. I turn my head, no longer able to control my stomach, and throw up in the aisle.