My Life Is A Circus

Half: A Story of Misfits

                   Clouds laced the skies with grey smoke and desolate cement streets, like the world before it was born. Fire wildly flickered and thrashed about in a charred, rusted, tin barrel, as if demons swooned and screamed for an escape. There were alleys, all were decorated with a variety of spray paint in dull reds, greens, blues, and whites, sadly a result of time passing by.

                    A girl with hair as white-blonde as a stroke of violent lightning wandered through those depressed streets in curiosity. Piles of rubbish graced the cracked stone that would've once been driven on. She dug through a large pile, tossing over filthy wrappers, crumbled papers, and cups. It was not clear what she was looking for. Transitioning over to the next, she heard the chiming of bells. Her ebony eyes snapped over to her feet as she crouched down, picking up a baby's toy that had been neglected.

                    She flicked the toy once more, hearing the ringing grow more prominent. It wasn't as broken as it had appeared. It was a stick with a dirtied stuffed sheep on its end. Those bells circling the whole of the item made it all the more interesting. Smiling to herself at her discovery, she tucked it into her sooty jacket and stalked over to that graffiti-alley.

                    A crooked mattress was a little ways in. Mud stuck to the bottom corners and clothes were scattered around it, creating a labyrinth of filth. In the middle of the thick, springy mattress was an exceptional lion with only half a mane protruding from its massive head. It stared at her as she made her way over without caution. Pausing for a moment, she reached into her jacket and revealed the toy. Shaking it for the lion to hear its music, she noticed that it was less than interested. Even with the creature not being too impressed, it didn't upset her. She plopped down beside it and placed her hand on its pelt. It was gorgeous and untainted, though that did not mean it wasn't prickly or rough. The girl was easily entertained and amused.

                 Seconds, minutes, or hours had passed by. It was all the same. Not a soul had been in that city with her in years since she was young. The sky was always sad, the fire was always angry, and the lion was always passive. Yet, she was unaffected. To her, it was just herself and the lion. That's all it needed to be.

                 She sat, waiting patiently for nothing. It wasn't enough for her. Moving out into the streets once more, she was determined to find another inspiring item or piece to show to her friend. Heading north towards where the sun would normally be she felt as if she was imagining what was coming from the distance. She wouldn't be surprised if it was a mirage, but no, the figure was growing closer.

                 It was a he. He was tall, dark-skinned, and his worn out pants were furbish, having little paintings up and down the legs. His face was stern, but not unwelcoming. He appeared as if he had seen his days, like he was a book that hadn't been opened. All contents were unknown; unpredictable. The girl quickened her pace, tripping over some of the trash before she caught up with him.

               When they met, she stood directly under his looming shadow. He never questioned her and she never did him. Their eyes had met, but it wasn't clashing. Their gazes pierced each other as if they could read minds. Without a hint of nervousness, she reached for his hand, which he didn't refuse the contact. Grabbing a hold of him, she was inviting him to follow her back towards the alley. Her eagerness at the new friend couldn't stop her from revealing a charming grin.

                  The lion could already detect a visitor. It was larger than any normal lion. It was a king among kings. The noble beast met the tall man's height and there was no hesitance. It let out a mighty roar, unsheathing its claws and allowing its fur to bristle. Again, there was no reaction. There was not even a flinch. It gave up, being bored of its own lack of impressionism, padding back towards the mattress around the corner, its own throne.

                  She stared up at the young man who let go of her and drifted off onto the black and plain road. His gaze swept around the surroundings and he closed his eyes, appearing deep in thought. She couldn't comprehend what he was doing or what he was attempting to accomplish. Like she was an animal herself, she cautiously wandered closer to him, with a wary, furrowed brow. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a spray can. Its label was scratched off and the dried paint had streamed down the canister, staining his hands.

                  He shook it several times before pressing the nozzle with two fingers. The young man started to create. The white swirled around him and it appeared as if he was dancing to the movements of his arm. He wasn't even in control of his own body anymore. She watched in awe as he threw the empty spray can behind him into the remnants of pre-existing garbage.

                 Wondering what it was, she observed carefully at the piece. It wasn't beautiful, but it wasn't ugly. It wasn't skillful, but it wasn't skill less. The painting depicted her and him. He painted over top of it, this time it was looking more like the lion that had challenged him. There was no anger directed towards her friend, but it was filled with imagination and amazement.

                     It still had only half a mane. It was clear to her that he was a conceptual artist. The idea was more impressive than the actual work itself. He handed it to her, which caused the lion to peak its head from the alley. It nonchalantly laid on the cement, watching as the young man took a seat parallel to it.

                      The girl took a shake and mimicked his actions. When the paint made its way to the ground, she leaped up in joy and glee. She had never experienced something so filled with freedom.

                       She could do anything she wanted to, so she drew the other half of the lion's mane, which made the lion cry. It stood up as tears ran down its furry face and it dipped its paws in the red spray paint that was still wet and runny from her over spraying the road. With that, the lion that was reserved and not caring of the circumstances and people it was with also expressed itself. It leaped in the air, creating paw prints on the road with the girl he was growing fonder of.

                   The young man joined in with the two of them. Their once distinct pictures turned into scribbles, but those scribbles and spastic movements expressed and spoke more than words ever could. They all did what they could together to relieve themselves of the nothingness in the city.

                    They were all misfits, regardless of species, gender, personality... The lion with half a mane, the boy with a lot to say, but no words, and the girl who was eager to please, but could not do so.

                    As the sun was starting to set, they all stared at one another, covered in paint and with smiles on their faces. The young man then reached for her hand. She knew what this was coming to, and she accepted it. Grabbing his hand tightly she put her arm over the lion that was now accepting them both and they walked off into the sunset. They disappeared with the sun, only really being figments of the land that they once represented, but in the end their lives, love, and unity were real. When they were gone, it left the world with nothingness, as it had been like that and will be like that forevermore.

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This was a short story I wrote over a year ago and I gotta say, I was way more happy with it back then. Even though I edited it I feel that the message is sort of lost because I was trying to incorporate a lot of things. Oh, well, if you can guess which country this is (section of a continent) then go ahead :)

+Willie-Wright (a.k.a Natallie)