Circus Supernatural

Chapter 3

I sloped into a table at the back of McDonalds, placing my bag under the table. It was a strategic placement, furthest away from the tills and the glaring, judgemental eyes of the grey uniformed staff. I had about twenty minutes of experience at this time of the morning, before the breakfast rush started and I'd be asked to leave. Some days I could stay a little longer if I had any money to scrape together for tea, or water, but today wasn't one of those days, as I had all of twenty-three pence to my name.

Pulling my hand out of my pocket, I felt a tingle in my palm that grew to a thumping beat as I attempted to open my hand. It wouldn't budge. Perplexed, I focused on my fingers, willing them to open. A woman in a pair of cream linen trousers and a pristine white suit jacket passed me by with a tray of food in her hands. The smell of hash browns and pancakes wafted to my blood blocked nose. I saw her glance over at me, and she wrinkled her nose and tutted as she looked me up and down before starting on her breakfast.

"Stuck-up bitch." I grumbled low enough that she couldn't hear, as my stomach rumbled painfully.

I focused back on my hand and wondered if it was stuck like this for good. I haven't got enough sleep; I concluded. Maybe I was having a stroke or something, and that's why my hand wouldn't open. But then I heard it. The tinkle of little bells coming from the disc. Suddenly I was filled with a warmth that radiated from my toes to my forehead, and an overwhelming need to speak the words that were skirting the edges of my tongue became insistent.

"Aperta." I whispered. And suddenly my hand opened, unveiling a gold coin about three inches in diameter. At first I thought it was blank, but as I blinked, a picture appeared in the middle, and an inscription of words flourished around the circumference of the coin. I ran my fingertips over the words, feeling a crackle of electricity flow through my hand, igniting my blood. It was as if I could feel the blood rush in my veins.

"Cirque Supernatural. Admits One."

In the middle of the coin was the image of a big top tent, and I did a double take as I saw the image of a lion prowling the entrance, opening its mouth in a silent roar before sitting, unmoving. Like a sentry, guarding.

I shook my head. I was going mad. I was losing my damn mind. I imagined the whole thing. I was probably becoming delusional from hunger and thirst. Maybe I could pawn the disc. It was heavy in my hand. Maybe it was real gold. My heart thumped a beat at the possibility. It could really be worth something, and grant me the luxury of some real food, maybe even enough to get a room in a hotel for a night. What I wouldn't do for a shower, fuck, a bed! That would be an indulgence. I should keep whatever I get for pawning it. But it wasn't safe to keep any value of money on your person on the streets. It would be like painting a target on my back to buy new shoes or a new jacket. No. It had to be spent on disposal things and it would give me time to think and plan where I was going next.

Convinced of my decision, I closed my palm tightly and placed the coin into the inside pocket of my jacket, zipping it closed. Just as I stood to leave, a grey and yellow shirted scowling table cleaner stood before me, arms folded across her chest.

"You need to buy something, or leave." She said matter of fact as she adjusted the cap on her head, emblazoned with the yellow arches logo.

"I'm just going." I mumbled, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulders.

The lady in the linen trousers scoffed, and I threw her my raised middle finger before holding my head high as I stormed from the restaurant.

It had started to rain as I stepped into the street. My jacket was flimsy and hoodless. By the time I had walked the ten-minute journey to my regular pawn shop 'Pauls Pawns', I was soaked to the skin. Water dripped from my nose, my red hair limp around my face. With freezing hands, I pushed the door open, stepping inside as a twinkle of the bell above the door rang out.