Circus of Silence

Trick of the Light

~*~

Once again, you're famished from the run.

Your stomach roars like the tiger you just heard.

Popcorn is your first thought- and your second, and your third.

~*~

                   The girl with the rifle didn't budge. She simply stared at Shula's sludge. When Rosalind reached, she moved away, and she wished the Pied Piper was still alive to save the day.

She was on her knees, the ends of her manicured nails touching her grandmother's black ashes. The carnies were gone- fled to wherever they thought they could go. 

They didn't care. 

Her grandmother was dead and nobody cared. 

She'd been eaten alive by the horrible, clearly rabid beast and no one cared. 

They let her Rosalind sit here. Let the black ashes seep into her colourful dress and bleed darkness through the festive pinstripes.

Terrible Whisper remained, with her dead eyes and wan white cheeks without a trace of colour. With her was Annie and that Harrison boy, the one who had not yet been made something Other. In Rosalind's hand, she held the folds at the back of the feral feline's neck. She pulled out her trusty letter opener to keep all of them in check.

"Didn't you hear me?" she spat at Annie. She pointed her knife, ready for an attack. She was the witch now, and there was no going back. "This thing killed my grandmother. I will not have it in my circus. Shoot it."

 The girl was shaking her head, amber eyes flicking to Whisper. She didn't speak. For once, Annie was rather meek.

The circus had gone silent. She could only hear Harrison's breaths. Harrison, who was to be her first client.

"Fine!" she snarled, "I shall do the deed myself!" Surely she'd succeed- she was magic, after all. Her letter opener would bend to her will- grow into a dagger or a sword like her grandmother had promised it could. She had the beast by the flap of its neck and it dragged his feet in the sand as she pulled him away.

Whisper silently slid forwards in the sand, but Rosalind whirled around before her Silencing hand could touch her shoulder. 

"Stop," she ordered, and the sand swallowed her up to her shins. She fell, eyes wide. Feeling fear for the first time.

"Rosalind," Harrison said in his southern drawl, his tone faltering and fear filled.

  Good, thought she. This is just how it's going to be. She wouldn't forgive bad beast the blackened bones. She wouldn't let it swallow and savour the blood that dripped from its fangs.

She let her hands slide up the tiger's fur and let her fingers curl around the decorative collar Stripes sported for the show. The bells chimed cheerfully, given life by her touch. If Whisper was the Circus Silencer, Rosalind Maybrush was its heart and soul. She wouldn't let stupid Harrison prevent her from reaching her goal.

 "Stop!" she ordered again, jabbing a finger at the outsider.

Harrison hardly halted. "Rosalind," he repeated, his hands raised with his palms out. His tone alone made the witchling want to shout. "That's not going to work on me." His dark eyes kept flickering to Whisper, to the quicksand Rosalind had created. It dragged the Silent Girl down like a hungry beast, devouring her like the tiger had her grandmother. It made no sound as it Silenced the Silencer.