Miscellaneous Prompts

Circus

These next few were made during Promptober, which I unfortunately never finished due to excessive schoolwork and burnout. This one is the first day.

TW: Death

Ah, the circus. A place of amusement, of wonder, of magical acts that could amaze even the most stubborn and unbelieving adult. A place where the outside world and its problems disappear as soon as you enter the giant striped tent that holds these miracles. Children's faces light up as they cheer for the acrobats, laugh at the clowns, stare with a slack jaw at the lions and elephants parading around each other. The joy that is uncovered and dusted off when the traveling circus comes into town is abundant, especially since the war had begun. A long, arduous, and devastating war that's lasted for years, leaving the women alone with their children as their husbands kill for them, suffer for them, die for them. The tapes that have been recovered are not pretty.

The lions roar, and my little brother quivers with fear beside me. He loves everything but the lions, since he believes that's what killed Father. Mother tries to keep him in his fantasy since the reality is much worse, but I can't help but want to tell him, just so that his heart isn't broken when he grows up and learns the truth.

I tousle his blond hair playfully. "What, scared?"

"O-of course I am, Simon. They hurt Daddy. You know that."

"Look, you see? They're perfectly under control," I say to him, frowning. "They can't hurt you. They can't hurt me. And they can't hurt Mom."

Our mother snorts beside us. "That's the truth," she says raspingly as she lifts the cigarette back to her lips. After Father had been drafted in the war, she had become addicted to smoking and still refuses to admit it to this day. Every day, she pushes some of our rapidly diminishing cash into my hands and orders me to buy her another pack. Unfortunately, the dealer understands that she's hooked and keeps upping the price, eager to see the faded green paper that is essential to live.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as people begin shouting and pointing at a slender figure posing dramatically on top of the highest platform. Her short brown hair and sparkly red leotard make her look almost pixie-like as she steps forward. One foot after the other, she makes her way out onto the thin rope that connects two of the platforms. The crowd gasps as she wobbles for a terrifying split second, then she regains her balance and makes it to the halfway point.

By now, it's easy for me to tell that she's very experienced and has probably practiced this thousands of times. The small wobble was probably to incite fear and excitement. After all, a lady walking across a rope with no issues whatsoever isn't very interesting, is it?

Suddenly, she sticks her foot out and, to my disbelief, falls off the rope. Children scream as she plummets toward the ground. Some even cover their eyes, too scared to watch any more. But of course, when all seems lost, a muscular acrobat hanging by his legs swoops in to save the day, catching her by her arms and tossing her back up into the air. Time seems to stand still as she flies upwards, then resumes as she lands steadily on the taut rope. Loud applause and whistles follow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Balance Betty and Trapeze Tom!" The spotlight shifts and splits to cover the ringmaster on his podium and the two acrobats now standing on the rope together hand in hand. The applause continues.

The ringmasters are interesting fellows. Most of them, when they come through, have kind faces, silly demeanors, and child-friendly personalities, often joining in on the fun and games. This ringmaster, however, is different. His face is cold and stoic most of the time, his hard slate-gray eyes never portraying any feelings he might have. When he does smile, it is a hideous thing to look at, with yellowing teeth and a tendency to widen his eyes to the point of provoking an uneasy feeling in the hearts of children and adults alike. None of us dare draw near him or his whip, most likely used when the animals are brought out.

"And now, introducing the twins of mischief and misfortune, Loli and Loopy!"

An absurdly small car races around the bases of the platforms, weaving between the legs of the elephant still standing in the middle of the area. It doesn't even flinch; it must have been through this several times already.

Before anyone can react, the tiny car crashes into a large platform, bouncing off the dull painted wood as if it was made of rubber. The doors open and two clowns squeeze their way out of the vehicle. They are both dressed in similar outfits, although one is notably taller than the other. Other than that, there are no qualities that easily determine the difference between the two. They are, as the ringmaster had announced, twins.

They hop around, giggling madly as they do funny actions such as making faces at each other or whacking themselves with ludicrously large rubber hammers. I personally have never enjoyed clowns with their painted faces and strange clothing, so I distract myself by glancing at my little brother's expression of pure happiness from time to time. At least he's enjoying this part of the show.

The act eventually ends, to my relief, and the two pile back into their car and drive away. The spotlight swerves back to the ringmaster, the edges of his mouth curling up unpleasantly.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the main event!"

All of the lights shut off, including the spotlight, and a drumroll begins, drawing everyone in with their curiosity. The air begins to grow warm, almost imperceptibly, and my throat starts to close up from anxiety. It's been dark for too long. Some children begin crying quietly as their parents struggle to shush them.

The ringmaster's voice is projected throughout the tent, probably by the speakers that had been set up beforehand. "Presenting...

I wish he would hurry up. I'm starting to get dizzy, although I don't know why.

"The one..

Please. I can't breathe. It's starting to get difficult.

"The only...

Oh, for the love of all things holy, please.

"Inescapable grasp of death."

His voice is cold and unfeeling, reflecting what I had seen in his eyes. People begin to panic, flooding out of the stands towards the now closed flaps for the tent. I drag my mom along with my brother and I as we run to the entrance.

But they're shut. No one can open them. They're trying, but they can't.

I understand now. What I had previously thought to be a generator is probably an engine, or two, or four, or who knows how many. The ringmaster has flooded the tent with carbon monoxide.

The circus was a trap.

The circus is not on our side.

The circus is going to kill us all.

And we can do nothing about it.