Tales of Gloomsdale #4: The Horror of the Big Top

Chapter Six

I shuddered, but he didn't seem too angry about Rachel riding the horse. He actually seemed angrier that she wanted to get off. That wasn't too surprising, since he probably acted the same way with the performers.

"Well, I'm not one of your performers," Rachel pointed out, slightly annoyed. "I'm just afraid I'll hurt this poor thing. I don't think she likes to be ridden."

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Turner," Mr. Alvarez assured. "The creature must perform, just like everyone else here. But if you're so concerned for it, you could practice outside if you wish."

"Really?" Rachel sounded slightly excited by the prospect. Being in the tent was probably like being forced to ride inside the barn at the stables. "Well, that would feel better... but you'll need to help me down first."

"I don't think I see the need." I backed away as I heard footsteps become closer to me. "I can expose the exterior for you to ride out."

I blinked as Mr. Alvarez pulled the tent flap back. I probably should've run away at that point, but I made the mistake of trying to peek inside the darkened tent. I couldn't see much, aside from Mr. Alvarez. He was definitely the ringmaster, wearing a red tailcoat and black trousers.

Then I froze as he turned around to face me. He was a tall, dark-haired, bronze-skinned man, his black top hat shielding his stubbled face. His dark eyes surveyed me while I stood there frozen in panic. What caught my eye most was the black cane he held in his right hand. At least, it looked like a cane. What really caught my attention was the red orb attached to the end. It made me jump as I remembered the fortune teller's strangely colored crystal ball. I'd even assume it was the same, if it wasn't for the fact that the one he had was smaller and darker. Every time he tapped the stick against the ground, the orb at the end seemed to glisten slightly, just like the glint in his dark eyes.

I could immediately understand why the other inhabitants of the circus seemed to be terrified of him. There was something intimidating about his mere appearance. There was also something vaguely familiar about him. Not overtly familiar like the clown who had turned out to be my estranged father, but he looked like somebody I had seen recently but didn't know well. I couldn't put my finger on who. He was also staring at me in the same way. I groaned. I didn't want to find out this creepy-looking guy who everyone was scared of was my long-lost uncle or something.

I tried to turn around at the same time that he did. He seemed to forget about me while addressing Rachel again. "Go on, Miss Turner. Ride out here."

That got my attention. I turned back around to see Mr. Alvarez step out of the way. I did the same thing, but kept my gaze focused on the tent. Rachel was always so confident while riding, I was curious what kind of horse would cause her to be so uncertain. I also didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone with this guy.

I watched as Rachel trotted out onto the field. The horse was much smaller than I had expected. I had been expecting an enormous creature if even Rachel was scared of riding it, but instead saw a small, white, meek-looking thing with its head bowed. It was very well-groomed and fancy-looking, with pink bows tied into the mane and a shiny, sleek coat.

But despite the polished appearance, the small thing looked completely miserable. Even I wasn't scared of it. It was smaller and shorter than any other one I had seen, about the size of a foal. But it carried the appearance of a horse. Both the bridle and bows attached seemed to weigh the head down, along with the rider. Rachel looked almost as uncomfortable as the horse, probably knowing it was too small for her. She had the same uneasy expression I usually had around horses while grasping the reins, instead of her usual relaxed one while riding.

But the horse was very obedient, immediately heading in whichever direction Rachel beckoned – well, actually, in the opposite direction. Rachel had told me they pointed the reins the opposite of where they wanted the horse to go. Mr. Alvarez and I watched as she went in a circular lap around the field. Despite the timid appearance, the horse's movements were steady and precise, if not overly fast. I suddenly remembered the horse figurine as I took it out of my pocket, realizing how similar it was to the real horse. The mane and tail attached to the glass were even the same color. The only difference was that the glass figurine was reared back in an active, almost confident-looking pose, while the real horse was meek and timid, as if it wanted to be anywhere other than here.