Circus of Silence

Troublesome Treats

~*~

You take a bow, because it seems to be the right thing to do.

They whoop and holler and cheer, men throw their hats and women wave their handkerchiefs.

A man claps you on the back and pushes a bag of popcorn into your arms.

"On the house," he says with a grin, "you've earned it."

~*~

         The dance was a self-induced trance. Not like one of the ones Shula liked to put her under. This trance was a mercy. A surrendering of feeling and self-pity. Whisper would dance. She'd tiptoe over keyboards, twirl under spotlights and toss glass vases that shimmered as she bled. Whisper would dance, and she wouldn't feel.

She did it for her brother, alone in his cage, waiting eagerly for her to finish this midnight rendezvous. Wondering if maybe tonight she'd bring him a treat- a little something to remind him he was human. Sweets... he'd liked sweets once, she was sure. Licorice, maybe. Or funnel cake. Something the animal he'd become could rip with its teeth.

She left without notice at the end of her show. Faded into darkness before the audiences' very eyes. An illusion- nothing more. They couldn't hear her come, and they wouldn't hear her go. Why they couldn't see her, they'd never know. That was how it went, her show.

Whisper had a dressing room. A pretty little space with a gilded mirror and wooden furniture that should have creaked when sat upon... but didn't. She'd have to make a note sometime to tell management that she wanted it replaced. Whisper would rip a page from her book of dreams and memories and everything in between. She'd leave it somewhere the Witch would find it and hope it wasn't misplaced. But now, before she found notes or went to find food, Whisper had to wash.

They liked to bathe her in starlight- which was why her show always took place at night. They liked to cover eyelids and cheeks and arms in glitter and make her look like she'd fallen from the sky. Like a ghost who had failed to climb her way to heaven. 

She was not cute. She'd been told over and over again that the emptiness of her eyes and the paleness of her cheeks would render the innocence of her youth absolutely moot. So they made her mysterious. They made her a beautiful, terrifying wraith. They dressed her as a ghost and sent her out to haunt. To roam the radius without reason.

That part of it was the lie of the season.

Whisper the Silent Girl's reason was loud. Louder than the cries of the Witch. Louder than the music of Shula. Louder than the Forever Song. Whisper had to free her brother- though after fifty long years, no solution had been found. First, she had to remember how his soul had been bound.

The cool cloth scratched the sparkles from her skin. She rubbed raw her cheeks, then set it back in its bin.

~*~

              The food was free to performers. Free and delicious, and the addiction spells never tingled their tongues and stuffed their hands into their waistcoats or purses. The Witch didn't need to give them a reason to stay. The performers were slaves. They didn't have a choice.

Whisper's presence was noticed immediately by the lady selling the funnel cakes. Her talent- was spotting a considering customer a mile away. It didn't matter who they were or how interested they looked- just if they had money they were willing to spend today. She didn't seem to mind that Whisper didn't have to pay. "Here you go, dear," she said, passing Whisper her plate. She motioned for her to stay- to wait a moment- as she grabbed the proper toppings. 

The Silent Girl was perfectly capable of doing this for herself, but she had no way to argue with the woman. She stood still.

 "Sorry," said the lady. She beat on the bottom of a shaker and powdered icing sugar poured out the holes like a snowstorm. 

Russia, this was, wasn't it? Or maybe it was Romania. She'd heard that winter was particularly awful here, from those who'd seen the Outside. Whisper would never get to see for herself. They never saw the cold- the Circus Everlasting ran away from it. The Circus liked mildness. It liked to turn mildness to wildness.

 A dollop of whipped-cream and a sprinkling of cherries. "I just adore this part."

If smells could sing, this cake was a soprano. Loud and proud and triumphant. Her brother would love it. Whisper bobbed into a curtsy- her best attempt at a 'thank you'- and set off for his enclosure.

Her brother was waiting for her, and he seemed to be getting impatient. His ears were drawn back and his teeth were bared in anger and irritation. A low, rumbling growl came from the back of his throat.

Whisper had been hiding the funnel cake behind her back and was standing too far away for him to smell it. That explained the rudeness. The Silent Girl held the cake out in front of her, and her brother's tale began to wag. A fuzzy, orange and black sort of flag. Fifty years ago, Whisper would have laughed. She couldn't laugh now, and it wasn't funny. Her brother had a tail, and fangs, and fur. With that fact, her stomach could not concur.

He ravaged the cake, sugar dusting his snout and cherry staining it like blood. Blood. He craved it, she knew. He'd been snapping and growling at their captor's since he'd grown big enough to be a threat. Shula's music alone that kept him a pet.

Shula's music kept them all pets.

She frowned to herself and waited for her nameless brother to finish feeding. After that, she'd undress and unwind. She'd sleep and then in the morning, the cycle would resume again. Another circle. Another morning as the Tiger-Tamer, another evening as the dancing doll. Another day of not making a peep.

Whisper's fingers found her fasteners and she moved to remove her blouse, but the noise that came next was loud enough to stay her strife. Laughter- foreign laughter. Laughter from the Outside. Being supremely sensitive to sound, Whisper knew it wasn't theirs... yet. Perhaps this one would be a new edition- another sad soul drunk on delight and refusing to leave.

Whisper decided she'd best take a look. She had a sobering effect on people, and would be a perfect combatant for that Witch of a crook.

~*~

It's the best thing you've ever eaten, though you can't recall the taste of anything else.

It's airy and light and when you finish your bag, you decide you have to buy more.

You could eat this popcorn for the rest of your days.

~*~