Shadow in the Snow

Introduction

(Note: This will not make it into the final draft.  For now, it's a referral for myself and besides, I like it.)

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    Deserted. At the circus? Why there? No one knows, but there are two boys at the entryway. A child, no older than three, and a baby wrapped in rags. The baby cries. The boy holds his brother's hand and does not speak, staring with somber eyes at the people who have found them. The night is cold. Rain drips from the child's hair.

    "What do we do with them? Where are their parents?"

    A gleam in the ringmaster's eye. The children are ragged and the cheeks of the older child are sunken in. "Abandoned," he says. "For us. For me."

    He has never had children and now they are here, children of the circus to be raised as his own. Raised as he wants them to be.

--

    The younger has grown tall. He is lithe and agile. Slim, but strong. An ethereal beauty. His skin is of the palest white, his hair even lighter than his skin. Snowflake, they call him, but his brother calls him Snow. Is it his true name? He knows not. It is the only name he has ever known. Some say it and laugh as though his name amuses them. This, he does not understand.

    In the sky, he is free. On the trapeze, untouchable. None can match his talent. His grace. He is one of another world. He dreams that up there he can perhaps touch the sky and every day he reaches higher, yearning to touch it. It remains out of his reach.

    What is the sky? Over and over again he asks his brother to describe it. What are the trees? The grass? The rain? He can hear the rain but has never seen it. He has felt the cool touch of it on his skin too long ago to remember it. Though he doesn't remain hidden from the outside world, the outside world has been forever hidden from him. He has never even seen what is out there. Engrossed, he will listen for hours of those who describe it to him. Yet, he fears it. He dares not leave. Inside, he is safe. Outside, there is only the unknown.

--

    "Beat him."

    "No! You cannot."

    The ringmaster glares. The man in front of him trembles, but stands firm. Snowflake's shoulder is firmly grasped underneath his hand. The ringmaster speaks. 'Who are you to tell me what to do in my circus? The boy is mine. Mine!"

    "Sir... he is talented. We must give him to the world to see."

    "He tried to escape!"

    "The scars will forever show on his back. They will mar his beauty."

    A pause. The ringmaster seems to be considering this. Snowflake is shaking violently but says not a word. Finally, the large man nods. "I see. Beat his brother then. He will learn."

    The boy begins to cry, and his cries grow louder as he is taken away and thrown into his small room. The room is on the back of a cart. There are no windows and it is small. This is how they travel.  The cart is driven into the circus tent after it is set up and he is allowed to come out, and such is how they conceal him from the world. A treasure. A possession. They can't let him go. Inside the room, he cries, hearing the fall of a whip on his brother's back but his brother makes no sound. There was no second attempt at escape. Snow thinks he saves his brother from more beatings this way but little does he know the truth.