Bone and Feather

Bone and Feather -prologue-

The Circus de Esmerelda holds many wonders. There are women who can see your fate, there are men who can breathe fire, girls who can charm snakes, boys who tame lions and men who stand tall like giants but there is a boy, a creature, that stands on his own.

Near the crocodiles den lies the Palace of Freaks. There are children who bear three legs, goats with two noses and miniature men who stand no taller than ones knee, but in the back, caged behind steel bars lies the Angel Boy.

They say he is an angel that has fallen from the cusp of heaven, cast away to the black earth for his wickedness. They say his wings, sprouting from between his shoulder blades, no longer lift him into the sky for they are now a burden, weighing him down as a punishment for his deeds. They say no one should be fooled by his cherubic features for darkness hangs behind his eyes. The men hold their wives away from his cage, for they fear a touch will condemn the frail minds of their women. They fear his gaze will blacken their souls.

The daring near his cage, peering through the rusted metal at the grotesque creature who presses his back agains the far corner of the cage, and reach in a finger to poke the unfolded grayish wings that frame his body.

With this said, many folk want to cast the demon away, burn the wretched creature at the stake so he cannot haunt the earth with the devils darkness. Perhaps the only thing stopping them is their own fear of him. No matter how much they hate, few will dare to venture close. But as many say, when things are on the fringe of chaos, it only takes a small push for everything to fall.

Even he barely knows the truth of his wings. But, even if he could somehow remember half of it, he would not be able to find the words to voice his tale. He is forbidden to speak during circus hours, for many folk fear his voice will poison their minds. If he tries, a circus hand will prod him with a heated iron and after so many burns, one learns that it's safer to hardly speak at all.

But each night and day, flipping back and forth like two contrasting sides of a coin, the fear grows no matter what he does. And he knows, he knows that on the day that their fear breaks out into chaos, even if he can tell his story, they won't listen.

No one will listen and he knows the last thing he'll see are the scarlet flames that will burn his body until the wind breathes his soul away.