Circus of Silence

-overture-

    ~*~

        The circus, with its colourful tents and shimmering lights, that advertised performers who tightroped the line between human and Other, was made up entirely of slaves. Even the animals were slaves. But anyone who knew the circus well knew that most of the animals here weren't actually animals. 

They weren't before, anyways.

 Not that it mattered. 

Whatever they were before was gone now. Gone and lost, thrown out to the crowd on the night of their debut. Lost to the spotlights and popcorn and drôle music. When the crowd roared, the once-human always roared back. After that happened, it was over.

They told her that she was one of the lucky ones. That the witch took pity on her and left her whole instead of devouring her being like she had the others. She didn't agree. They'd made her Other all the same. The witch liked her sharp, keen eyes and the defiant way she held herself and held her little brother back when she came for them. 

She told her she liked how 'haunting' she looked. How 'mysterious'. That she'd sought after someone with a face like hers for generations.

 That she'd be a good addition to the marquee.

The others called her Whisper, because that was the last noise she ever made. The last time she ever opened her mouth and performed the magic of twisting air into sound, and sound into music. Just a whisper, but now, even a whisper was too much to ask. 

She wished she'd made the most of it, her final word. That final skid of her boots on the ground as she pulled her little brother back, away from the carnival of carnage. "Witch," that girl had breathed, that girl whose true name had been louder than a whisper. 

That was it. 

That was all it took.

 All it took to take the low drawl of that girl's voice, her tapering breaths, and the sound of her boots on the ground. 

That was all it took for the witch to take her brother away from her forever.

That was fifty years ago, now.

Fifty years since that day and every day of those fifty years, Whisper has stood before the bars of his enclosure and watched him grow. Watched orange fur consume him, saw his eyes change from her black to a striking, burning gold. She watched his body grow strong and muscular, lithe and terrifying, while her body didn't change at all. 

But she'd rather that than have her body waste away. Rather that than lose all hope of her brother recognizing her when he returned. When she found a way to break his curse.

Every grain of her free time was spent looking. Circling the Carousel, pretending to admire it with eyes of molten stone. Those who witnessed the ritual said it was the only time she ever looked alive... interested. They said that as she circled the circling carousel, passing prized, painted ponies and the carriages they pulled, Whisper's silent heart would beat once more. A look crossed her face when she looked at the Carousel, the grand centrepiece of the Circus Everlasting that made her look like she was truly young again. 

Just like the youth who had been silenced all those years ago. 

The Carousel gave Whisper hope.

Hope that one day the audience would roar and her brother would not roar back.

~*~