Traveling Circus

One

Artist: Mark Laguë

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What's a story without a villain? A lie. A story without a villain is a lie. There is no such thing!

Lies are guided by secrets and tricks, and you know, sometimes that is the most engaging sort of thing. You never know what to accept or consider, and I, for one, love surprises. Let's begin with the first lie here;

I was headed home,

Traveling Circus

on a bustling, three-hour plane from York New. The kids-that apologized every fifteen minutes for booting my seat-were chatting about the matches they watched in Heaven's Arena, of course. That place can make you a celebrity in no time. I listened in for a minute after hearing a name...

One kid: Lance almost killed that guy!

Another: I know right!? I've never seen a man so angry!

One kid: Who do you think would've won the next match?

Another: Lance's next match? Definitely the mystery lady. The one that never had a crowd for her matches.

One kid: I know, I know. I agree. When I watched her on-screen she was awesome! She moves so fast! I wanna learn her art style! Wah!

Another: Dude!

I excused them yet again. Hearing what they thought of me made me smirk as I stared at my hands. Kids are the best basis of some opinions. Innocent little nuts.

Off the plane and out of the airport, I was in a taxi home. The disturbing scent of cigarettes was densely present and the seats were a dirty gray leather that sucked the heat from my body at the touch. I shrugged it all away and explained my destination.

"As long as you got the cash." The grey-haired cabbie coughed, and with a chuck of the stick, we were off to the heart of Gem City.

Before I move on (after a short start), I'll give a little context. The "mystery lady" is me. The reason she's a riddle is that she hides her identity and cannot have a crowd for her fights. Not respectfully at least. The reason for this no-crowd rule isn't complicated, but I'd rather you find out than for me to just tell you. Keep us close in this tale, eh? Alright, back to the shitty cab.

A crowd was gathered in front of it. Patiently, I rested my head on the window and let my body deal with its jetlagged state. I've already snatched the wallet of the cabster. I began to fantasize to past the time.

Yes, sexual fantasies.

Numb to the aroma of the cab, I could focus enough on the deplorable things on my mind. All until I sensed such a presence that was too impressive. Too impressive because it was flaunted like a queen's crown in a poor man's market. I was drawn in as this "poor man".

Before I knew it, the crowd was no longer outside but it was the very medium I drifted in. What was all the excitement about anyway?

"Hello," I spoke to a stranger before she moved away.

"Hi! You excited for the next circus performance too!?"