Guard and Scythe

Apart of The Act

We go around lots of twists and turns; I trip up plenty flights of stairs and continuously bump into many doors and walls. I kept wondering just exactly how big this building had to be.

After a long time had passed, we came to a stop in. I heard Mr. Briscoe whispering to some more men. They talked for a few minutes, and then approached us closer. I could hear these people everywhere, removing our bindings, and leading the other children away. When it was my turn, a pair of gruff hands ripped the knot apart and yanked my arms to lead me in another direction. The person had still left the blindfold intact, so I struggled to keep pace with the man. Even without seeing him, I could tell he was tall, and very large; especially large compaired to me.

He lead me up to a metal pole from which he chained my feet and wrists to, and set me down on the ground. I tested the chains, tugging on them gently. There was barely enough slack for me to rest my hands on the ground. I didn't dare try to venture out to see how far I could walk. At the very most I'm guessing I could move a radius of three feet.

All around me, I could hear other children crying out in confusion and fear. They moaned like cattle, calling out to no one and everyone at the same time. I could hear them struggle against their chains. Other children squeeling in protest as the men drag them across the ground. All of this is only what I can hear with my ears, and sense through the pounding vibrations on the dusty ground. There's so much dirt I almost could believe we've been taken somewhere outside, but there is no breeze or gentle rustling of tree leaves. No crunching of car wheels rolling over gravel roads. It smells like somewhere inside, even though I don't believe there is a room large enough to hold all of us children and adults inside it. From the echoing voices, it's easy to presume that wherever we are, we are enclosed in a very large and tall area. Maybe we've all shrunken down to the size of ants, and have been forced to crawl into a bottle.

Very quickly, more children are bound to the pole with me. None of us speak, but through sense of touc, it is safe to assume that this was not a time to try to talk with one another. Here, we were all on our own.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the lights shut off, and the world becomes even blacker behind the musky blindfold. Only now do I realize how much it smells like a mixture of chemicals, the iron smell of old blood, sweat, and booze. My nose wrinkles in disgust at the recognition of all these unfavorable scents.

Thankfully at the blindfold chose this moment to loosen it's grip from my face and slide down off my chin. I don't dare move at all, in fear that somebody might see and retie the wretched thing back on.

I look around, taking in my new surroundings. I was right and wrong. We weren't outside, we were inside. But we were enclosed inside a great large black tent. Not the kind I would see families use to go camping with, or like what the boys outside the slums would do and prop up an old worn out blanket with a couple sticks; this was a giant tent, like a circus tent, except not the bright orange and blue stripes that might automatically come to mind. Throughout the inside of the tent, the children were all bound to the long metal poles sticking up out of the ground to support the tent. They were all still blindfolded, around a dozen children crammed together to each pole. They all knocked their heads together unseeingly, and tugged at the shackles on their writsts and feet half-heartedly. No one could even find hope any longer to dream of escape. Dreams and hope were the first things abandonned here at the circus.

Looking around, I realized that there were no doors or windows. No stadiums for crowds to sit in, no bleachers with venders trying to convince parents to buy their children some kettlecorn and cotton candy. It was like the circus had died, and we were being held inside the beast's empty shell.

From the far corner, Mr.Briscoe came walking out into the middle of the stadium, dressed in his usual white and black suit, and a big black tophat. As he walked closer to the center of the ring, I noticed his red coiled whip, tucked up under his arm. Mr.Briscoe came to a halt, and faced and empty wall.