Username: I Be Athena
Title: Familiar
Word Count: 1741
Additional Information: I loosely based the ringmaster and the actions of the circus off of the creepypasta character, Slender Man. That's basically where I got my inspiration for this story from.
October 12, 2000
The boy was so small that he could barely see the top of the brightly colored tent from out of his car window. But he could hear the sounds of a brass band playing, the occasional trumpet of an elephant’s trunk, and the constant chatter of the crowd. The circus. He was finally there. After months of begging his mother, she finally decided to take him. He had only heard of it through Tony, the mean, rich boy in his first-grade class, whose father had bought tickets for the show prior to when they would be coming to town. The motion of the car stopped, a car door slammed, and his mother opened the door on his side to undo the confusing straps and buckles on his car seat. She lifted him up, and carried him towards the traveling cirucs.
The amazing sight lay before him. A huge tent, striped yellow and red stuck up from the ground, with two smaller ones and a variety of booths and stands surrounding the entrances. Other people tailgated around, laughing and smiling brightly. The carts advertised popcorn and t-shirts and an assortment of knick-knacks. His mother set him down, and instead asked him to hold her hand as they walked through the bustling crowd.
He wanted to see the sights, play with all the toys in the carts, but his mother wouldn’t let him. First, they would have to buy tickets. He sat, momentarily bored, as his mother gave the ticket-man some bills in exchange for two bright card-like slips of paper. The ticket-man looked sad, and even more depressed when he glanced at the boy’s young, round face. It was almost as if he knew something was going to happen to him…
But he didn’t notice. By this time, he was whisked away toward the carts. Up close, they weren’t as fantastical as they were from afar. The cart-owners smelled of months without a bath, and had the same expression as the ticket seller. The stands themselves were dingy, and the toys dusty from years of neglect. Some of the other children found it to be a scary place. They no longer liked the circus, and cried until their parents would take them home.
But the boy still didn’t notice. His mother had just bought him a fluffy pink swirl of cotton candy from a shiny contraption that whirled round and round like a gentle hurricane. The sugar dissolving on his tongue was enough to keep him pre-occupied for the entire walk to the big-top tent.
They managed to get to their seats, somewhere in the middle of the rows and rows of wooden benches. The lights dimmed. Excited murmurs spread through the crowd. The show had begun. Spotlights shone around, spinning and spinning until they landed on a slender man in a pin-striped suit. His face was completely shrouded by an also pin-striped hat, except his mouth. The boy didn’t hear the words that the ringmaster threw at the crowd, he was so aroused by the aura of the carnival. The lights dimmed and a silly clown was seen climbing up a pole to a platform with a unicycle and some bowling pins sitting on top. He clambered on the unicycle, juggled the pins, and then proceeded to ride across a nearly-invisible wire to an identical platform. The clown left, and some beautiful girls fell from the ceiling, suspended only by colorful ribbons. One of them looked directly into his eyes and winked. He blushed. A pretty lady… liked him.
The show continued on for another forty-five minutes or so, the little boy full of glee the entire time. To him, people had done the impossible. They had breathed fire, eaten swords, done things that he could never imagine. By the time the boy and his mother had exited the tent, they were hungry for lunch. The boy was hopping around, excitedly pretending to breathe fire and twirl around. His mother pulled him over to a little niche nearby the big tent, and told him to not move from that spot, no matter what. And he would have, had something not caught his eye.
The lady, from before, was peeking out from a side-flap. She grinned and winked at him, then disappeared from sight. Was she asking for him to follow? He was confused. Should he go? Mother told him not to... but Mother also didn't let him climb the tree in the backyard or play with the boy down the street. The woman popped out again, and motioned for him to come closer. He turned around. Mother was nowhere in sight. He would come back soon, wouldn't he? She would never know, just... just this once. He took a step forward, and another one, and another one.
Soon he was inside. The lady wasn't there. It was dark, and he could see nothing. Something moved to his right. "H-hullo? Ribbon lady?" That something moved again, this time behind him. Without turning around, he called out again, "Is that you?" No response.
He began to turn around, but his head met something hard before he could see. The blow sent him reeling back. Another smash on the back of the head had him on the ground. He looked up, and before he passed out, saw the sillhouette of a very tall, very skinny man against the light of the outside world.
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The boy heard sounds coming from wherever he was. He could not see, for his eyes were closed, and felt too heavy to open. He felt that he was laying down on something soft. He heard a door open and close, two pairs of footsteps entering the room.
"Twice? You hit him twice?! Charlie, he's a kid, that could'a killed 'im!" a woman's voice said. A chair scooted out, and someone sat on some other flat surface.
"Don't worry about, I made sure that he's alive." A smooth, familiar voice cooed back.
"Still, he could be brain damaged o' somethin'." The boy wondered if they were talking about him.
"Doesn't matter. We need a cripple for one of our acts. A blind trapeze artist? Or maybe the deaf violinist that moves objects with his music?"
Someone sighed, probably the woman. "Still, I don' wanna hurt the kid. Plus, he's young enough that we don' have to wipe the memory."
"Hunh. Well, I think we're gonna go with the violinist."
The boy vaguely thought that he might be in trouble. He managed to open his eyes a tad. But what he saw made them fly open. He was laying on a loveseat in a messy trailer. The ringmaster and the pretty lady were there. But he could see the ringmaster's face, reflected in the mirror that he was using. His eyes were thin slits, almost nonexistant. As he removed the stage makeup, the boy could see that his face was horrendously scarred, his mouth full of pointed stubs of teeth. And his body, although slender before, seemed oddly stretched out, to the point that it was unnatural. The woman, too. She was perched on top of a seperate vanity than the one the ringmaster used. She was just as tall as him, but even smaller around the waist. Her face kept the same beauty it had before, but her eyes were completely black, and her fingernails long, and sharpened to a point.
The woman caught the boy's eye, and whispered something in the ringmaster's ear. The ringmaster stood up, grabbed an oddly shaped stick, and walked over to the boy. the boy made a whimpering noise. The ringmaster gently tapped the stick on the boy's forehead, and murmured something that he couldn't comprehend. The last glimpse the boy caught was of the ringmaster's disfigured face grimly standing over him.
October 12, 2011
The boy, or "Alvise Esposito" as the people around him would say, stood outside the big tent, waiting for the show to start. Pinstripe would tap him on the shoulder when it was time to go on. He saw others around the tent. Their parked cars sported coolers and televisions, a sight he rarely saw. Their mouths lifted up in joy, laughing at whatever someone else had said. He sat down, and looked up at the TV closest to him.
A nicely-dressed woman appeared on the screen, and began to mouth words he couldn't hear. He read the words on the bottom, hoping to get an idea of what she was talking about.
11 years since trajedy... Carson Wyatter missing... Mother still in tears... The text stopped, and a picture of a young boy flashed up on the television. There was something familiar about him, something that Alvise couldn't quite put his finger on. But then again, this entire place was familiar, which was odd, given the fact that the circus almost never visited the same place twice.
Still, eleven years, like the TV said. That was when everyone said his mother died doing trapeze work. He sighed, sad that she was gone, but glad that Ribbons was kind enough to take care of him, and teach him how to play the violin, which he held in his hand. Even though he couldn't hear it, the violin still brought him joy. It was special and could make objects fly, change a roaring lion into a fluffy kitten and back again. Again, another reason he was in the circus. He was special, like the others. He had all the qualities. Taller than normal people, more slender than the regular. Able to do wonderful things, far outside the mundane.
Alvise felt a tap on his shoulder. Pinstripe was behind him, motioning for him to come. Alvise nodded his head uncomfortably. He would never be able to get over how unnerving Pinstripe was, with his scarred face. Nevertheless, he followed. Nobody noticed his entrance. They were all bustling around, trying to get their acts in order. He figured he should go wait by Ribbons, so as not to miss his cue.
He waited, and waited, until he saw the lights dim onstage. This usually meant he would come on soon. Ribbons tapped him, then motioned for him to go. He grabbed the violin and stepped out, the spotlight following his every move.
As he played, he looked into the crowd. Things lifted and all were wowed. All but one woman, who looked on with loneliless and sadness. She was familiar... just like the boy on the screen. Oh, so familiar.
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