The Circus Illusion

Chapter 1: Showtime

    The stage is set. The audience is silent. The lights are on me. All eyes are on me. I grip the silk sheets tightly and relax my body. I start to fall. The crisp air whisks past my ears as I feel myself let gravity take over me. I can sense the ground approaching quickly. I begin to count.

    Five.

    Four.

    Three.

    Two.

    One.

    There's an audible gasp from the audience. My breath hitches in my throat as I gain control of my body once more. I open my eyes and I am mere inches away from the hard earth floor. Grasping the sheets once more, and being sure that both my ankles and wrists are securely bound, I make my way up as if I'm climbing a rope. I can feel the stillness in the air, anxiety radiating off the audience. It's funny honestly. You can tell who's new here, and even the ones who aren't, but they always have the same reaction. The same wide eyes and the same gaping mouths that open and close like those of a fish.

    Through the mesh holes of the eyes on my mask, I can see that I'm close to the metal bars that support the silk sheets that are sustaining my weight. I stop climbing and wrap the cloth around my torso and loosen it from around my wrists. Relaxing my body once more as I hear mutters of anticipation, I release a small sigh and smile to myself. 'I can finally start the real performance', I think to myself. Twisting my body in ways many would think is impossible or unnatural, I take in the attention of the crowd. What I do is an art; a beautiful skill that others should feel blessed to see. Not everyone can do what I do and if they can they have to be good at it. With heavy concentration my body molds itself with the silks, shaping into elegant yet complicated poses as I hang.

    The 'oohs' and 'ahhs' are music to my ears. The silk sheets feel cool against my honey-colored skin that is occasionally warmed by the beaming stage lights. The hooks that keep the silks up start swaying with my movement, allowing me to gain enough momentum to start "drifting" around the arena. This takes more concentration though it's not something I can't handle. More twists, a few turns, a flip or two. The crowd eats it up. I'm attentive to their reactions and I can't help the feeling of pride that makes my chest swell. The younger kids that point at me with toothy grins and quiet giggles, the older teens taking pictures and videos; soft flashes going off in the process, and the adults. The adults, oddly enough, always seem the most amazed. With their mouths gaping in astonishment and heads tilted to get a better view of me as they ignore the tiny hands that tug on their sleeves.

    I love this feeling. The feeling is similar to the one you would get after being noticed for a major accomplishment, like your parents noticing your good grades. I'd say it's like a drug but I'm not sure that's the...right description. It's the adrenaline rush. The excitement. The pleasure of knowing that everyone is coming to see you.

    But I want more.

    "Marie," I whisper into my small microphone, "bring down my hoops and dim the lights."

    "Are you crazy?! You may be the last performance, but when dad says your time is up, it's up!" Marie yells back.

    "Do you want more money or not? Remember, this city has had its income increase by 13% since we've been here. Bigger audience, more money. Plus my merchandise is selling magnificently!"

    "Why you conniving little-! Fine, fine!" I hear the mechanical pulleys begin to stir as five hoops make their way into my line of sight, along with the dimming of the intense stage lights from above. "When this is over, dad's gonna feed your ass to the tigers!"