Flying Through Chains

Act III

With the turn of a key and the clink of a lock, the cage door swung open. A shaft of light illuminated the interior of what appeared to be a tiger’s cage –except the creature inside did not seem half as fierce as that ferocious animal. The incoming light did little to disclose the face of its occupant, who was hunched in a corner, away from the outer world.

Ari saw that she wore a red dress. The colours in the dress were pure and clean, but the dress itself was no so, being crumpled and smudged from confinement.

Rubies, he thought. Her dress is the same colour as rubies.

No one went forward to help the girl as she stepped out of her cell. As one, every performer in the tent stepped back, apart from the Ringmaster, who stood unmoving, the same demeaning expression on his face.

Ari moved forward to help her, but he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back. Looking around angrily to see the obstacle, he came face to face with Tristan.

“What?” he hissed, clawing at the hand. “Let me go!”

“Ari,” said Tristan quietly. The tone of his voice surprised him. Looking up, Ari did not see the face of a stranger or an oppressor, as he expected. Instead, he saw the face of a friend. A friend who was trying to tell him something.

“Just watch,” he whispered, and turned his attention to the other direction. Ari followed his gaze behind him, to the centre of the great ring that was the stage.

Ari stopped.

And watched.

And saw.

What Ari saw was a sight that he would never forget, all the days of his life. (how long that would be, he did not yet know.) Even if every memory was stripped from his mind; discarded, thrown away, then he was sure that the image of the bird-girl would remain.

She was beautiful.

And terrible. Yes, it was terrible.

She stood in the centre of the ring, wings outstretched. A natural spotlight shone down on her, sunlight shaped by the whole in the roof and turned into something different altogether. Where to start; where to begin? The red dress remained, and it was satin, he could see; but its power was now strengthened by the black feather cape which hung over her. Tied to her wrists, it did indeed look like a pair of wings, so real that one might believe that she might leap up and take to the skies. Long night hair fell over her shoulders and encircled her head like a dark halo, framing the harsh, bird-like mask that now covered her face.

Everything about her was elegant, poised; but still she seemed wild – a bird about to fly. But there was something holding her back. Eyes travelling downwards, Ari caught sight of that ‘something’, amongst her bare feet. Against the pale skin of her ankle was a single long, silver chain. Like a snake, it slithered through the straw; up and into the cage which was her abode, tethering her to home.

From the sudden audience at the edge of the ring, a tall figure stepped out. The Ringmaster raised one arm in a grand gesture and called out in a great, magnificent voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Let us now witness the beautiful Bird-girl, Beaulieu, in flight!”

A harsh, guttural scream filled the tent, forcing Ari to cover his ears. The call of the creature continued as the bird raised her head, beak pointing heavenwards. Like an elegant red snake, a ribbon unfurled from the roof of the tent, twisting its way down until it hung, suspended, in front of the creature.

For a moment, the creature was a girl once more; clasping the ribbon in one hand, she twisted it once, twice around her wrist. Then the girl stepped back, the crowd fell silent, and-