Inexorable

07: Aces and Acrobats

The lights dim and a shadow casts over Vera's eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen, may we resume with the show and have your undivided attention. Let me tell you, before was only our opening act." Madame's voice cuts through the air like a knife.

Kaela turns away from Vera and directs her attention to the stage. Tell me later, okay? She mouths, peering at Vera from the corner of her bright blue eyes.

"But that was only a mere spark compared to our vastly burning flame. That was only the beginning." Flames. Burning flames consuming, eating, devouring her painted canvas of falling feathers of blue and purple. "May we give a rather warm  welcome and a twisted smile to the Firebreather and the Contortionists. You may or may not have ever heard of them, but they are sure to fire up your spirits and wrap around you mind." Everyone in the audience laughs, all except Vera who finds herself studying the bottom hem of the curtains, and its  odd, shifting movement.

"Oh and may I remind you all,  to allow tonight to be a mystical-" She emphasizes the last word, then takes a long breath, creating what Vera would call a dramatic pause. Golden light pours into the dim room, beam by beam with each word that she says.

"-Spectacular-" Her voice rises. The haunting singing of a music box begins to arise from the thin air on the last syllable of her words, accompanied by the lovely laughter of an accordion.

And as predicted by absolutely nobody in the audience, the long drapes of velvet red curtains erupt into flames. "-Infernum."

Licks of flames climb from the fine linings of the curtain, up and up the rich fabric in a fervor passion. Infernum, meaning hell. How clever, she means the raging flames of hell, a silky voice in the back of her mind whispers to her.

They continue to eat away at the long stretch of curtains, creating a massive wall of blazing flames and swirling strands of smoke.The audience once again is swept away by the magnificent visual held in front of them. 

In the haze of smoke and fire, out walks a distorted shadowy rounded figure of a woman in a dress. The audience already starts clapping, eagerness present in the way that they sit and the way that they oozed with anticipation. Her figure is blurry, covered by the ashy fumes and dark, crisp wisps of smoke. 

The fire resides at a single point, exactly at the mouth of the shadowed figure. It is as if the flames are being inhaled into the woman's lungs. With a strange, eerie laugh of a mad woman, she drinks in the bitter licks of flames that had once attached and sealed themselves to the drapes. Lick by lick, they are sucked into the single, gaping hole held between the woman's grinning lips. A shudder crawls up Vera's spine and laps at the sides of her neck. A sharp, unidentifiable odor bites at her nostrils.

As if things can not get anymore stranger, the hole grows bigger and bigger. The gaping darkness unhinges its jaw, ready to devour more and more of the fire it craves. Something catches her attention, something at the top and bottom edges of the hole- the hole that is now almost as large as the figure itself. Leaning forward to gain a better view, Vera's eyes widen as she finds that they are two rows of dull and yellowed teeth, crooked at every angle. Her body stiffens and she muffles a disgusted gag. The grossing two rows of yellow molded teeth clinging with a dying force in the soft, rotted flesh at the the entrance to the cave. Flecks of dark red substance grasping onto the corners of his teeth, while bits of unchewed flesh lay stuck between the crevices.

 As the fire is being swallowed into her awaiting body, the haze of smoke begins to clear, revealing that the shadow is in fact not a woman, much to Vera's surprise. The curtains remain unharmed, as if it was never touched by the fire to begin with.  On the stage is a bulky and short masked male figure with two incredibly thin spider-like figures curled around his legs. He is as tall as Vera, a mere sixty three inches, who only bore of brawn and muscle. The bottom portion of his face is contorted into an expression of anger and delight, his worn yet tightened features reminded Vera of a wrestler she had seen before on a television at a pizza parlor. Like the Juggler's, his mask is an empty canvas, blank of any design except for the rich color of the flames that was painted on to the material. His irises, two rusted crescents of bronze, are the only thing that can be seen behind the mask's two slits . Vera can only wish that the mask had covered the mans entire face, his horrifying, gaping mouth including.