Rings


001. Introduction
“Ladies and gentlemen, hear me! Let me be your guide to the weird and wonderful, all things strange and fantastic! It’s bound to be a riot, this I PROMISE! We’ve got ALL your favorites, the acrobats and the sword swallower, the lion tamer and the magician, all in the big top, EVERY NIGHT! And don’t forget the freaks! For just TEN CENTS, my friend, you can see the Two-faced Goat, the Five-Legged Dog, the world’s smallest lady, and the Skeleton Man! And don’t forget those old favorites, THE FAT MAN AND THE BEARDED LADY! Or the Snake! With no arms and no limbs, this man will astound you all as he pulls himself with nothing but his teeth and SHEER WILLPOWER! AND OF COURSE, you’ll have to come see our feature attraction, THE TIGER MAN! Found in a remote village in the jungles of India, the Tiger Man is the only one of his kind. He was wild, but we’ve tamed him! Watch as he performs feats of agility, right on his very own stage! He’ll even jump through hoops of real FIRE!” The ringmaster roars.
He stands on a wooden crate in the middle of the street, waving his white-gloved hands. His jacket is made of purple silk, his pants of black silk, and his vest is of red and gold brocade over a white collared shirt. Gold adorns his ears and tops his cane, while a black tophat rests on his red hair. The stream of people headed to market parts around him, and he beams down at them, shouting his advertisement as loudly as he can, pressing fliers upon those who pass close enough. Behind him are gaudily attired clowns in suits of purple and yellow, and jugglers in blue. Caged lions and leopards pace and roar from his parade-train. They are a riot, a thick splash of color on the dry dirt.
His grin is fierce and his eyes are wild, and that’s half of the attraction. Beaming, he procures a bouquet of daffodils from one sleeve and bestows them on a pretty girl he finds before him. Winking as he bends, he says, “I’ll be seeing you opening night, right?” She giggles and her curls bounce as she accepts the flowers, which are the same color as her hair and match her baby blue dress nicely.

The circus is in town.


002. Love
Love; from what I’ve heard it is the most powerful emotion a person can feel. It takes your soul and fills it with helium until you’re so light you float away into the blue sky with the sun on your face and laughter in your throat. Of course, I’ve never gotten to do this- never gotten to fly on the wings of love.
It’s not my destiny.
Not my destiny to feel the thrill of being touched by a lover, woman or man. Not my fate to hold another close while my body sings with ecstasy. Not mine, not at all.
All I can see on the path before me is more solitary travel.
I wish I could create more joy in my life, really I do. But that just doesn’t seem possible. Not here. I want to leave.

But they need me in the ring.


003. Light
Light filters through the blinds of the trailer. They’re old and yellow and in a few spots they’re ripped, and the slats are loose, so they barely block any light. I ought to buy curtains.
I sit up and yawn, stretching my arms towards the ceiling. I’m not looking forwards to today. It’s time to move out of this town and onto the next county. I hate packing, even though as ringmaster I don’t have to lift anything. But I do have to direct everyone ELSE.
With a sigh I swing out of bed and drag some pants on. Just brown corduroy with suspenders- no flashy silk today. There’s no audience to please. I don’t really feel like putting on a shirt, but I know I’ll look pathetic next to the Strongman (Jim) without one, so I grab one off of the rack and drag it on, shunting the red suspenders off my shoulders and dragging them on again. I pull on some shoes and step outside.
The sky is clear today, and the sun strong. I’m glad it’s still morning, or I’d boil.
People are already taking down the tents, and the booths on the midway are being cleared out. Wisps of hay from the animal’s cages litters the ground. I stroll over to Algernon, who appears to have been managing things while I’ve been in bed.
“What took you so long, Den?” he asks.
“You could have just woken me up,” I reply, watching the disassembling of one of the smaller tents.
“Nah- you looked like you needed sleep. You put a lot of effort into this week,” he commented.
“This place is my father’s legacy,” I said, “I can’t let it fall. If I don’t drill up a crowd, it will. Face it- traveling circuses like ours don’t get much revenue anymore. People would rather sit at home and listen to their radios. Those damn shows they run- they bring excitement right into the home. People don’t have to go out to have a good time, anymore,”
“People still go to carnivals,” Algernon said, trying to cheer me up.
“Carnivals have rides, Algy. We don’t, and before you suggest getting some, we don’t have the money,” I sighed and frowned at my crew as they trudged across the field, carrying crates towards their waiting places on the train. It was a real circus train, this- ornate with dark red panels and golden decorations. I feared that soon it would have to retire from the tracks, and us with it.
“Your father would be proud of what you’re doing, Den. I know he would. You’re taking good care of everyone here. We’re still a family.” Algernon smiled at me, sunlight winking off of his earring.


004. Dark
My father died just six months ago. The doctors said it was the big C. They also said it was advanced and there was nothing they could do. They didn’t tell me where it was, and I didn’t ask, because I knew. My father coughed, and coughed, and coughed. He had lung cancer, and I guess it was because he smoked cigars all day, because before he died, he told me to quit smoking cigarettes. I did.
When he was dying, we actually went back to the house at Cape Cod. We’d avoided staying there for years, always staying on the road with the circus, because my mother died in that house. I was only nine at the time, and I don’t know what she died of. Some sickness. All I remember is that she slept in the big bedroom all by herself, with the drapes closed. Unlike my little bamboo blinds in the car, her drapes were of thick, heavy cloth, that blocked out all the light. When you stepped into that room it was like stepping into a cave, cool, damp, and deathly still.
And it was dark, so dark. Even at high noon that room was as dark as a place could get. She never wanted those blinds open. I didn’t know why then, but I think I know now.
When you’re dying, you don’t want to think about the world you’re leaving behind. So you shut it out, you paint it black and never let it cross your mind that outside of your stale room is a vivid world filled with happy people and trees and birds. That way, you don’t mind leaving it as much. Death becomes easier, like stepping from one dark room into another. You don’t notice a difference, because there’s no way to make out the features of a room in the absence of light.
Or the tears on the cheeks of your loved ones as they wait for your heart to stop beating and watch for your last exhalation.
And the darkness dulls your pain.
The darkness makes it smoother when you go out. It’s like dying in your sleep, dying in the dark.
So when my father was dying and we came home, I made him sleep in the bedroom that faced the sea, mother’s room, the room with the curtains thicker than elephant skin. I drew them close and tight so that only the barest sliver of light came through, just enough for me to see by. Then I took the old man’s hand in mine and did as he had for his wife. I waited.
He lived seven days in the death room.


005. Rot
It took me another month to get the circus back on the road. I was a wreck. Twenty-two, and already both of my parents were gone. Something big inside of me was died. I had a void in my heart the size of Texas, and I needed something to fill it with. But first I had to make it larger.
I had to sell the house with the death room. I loved that house, even though I never got to be in it- and in a distorted sort of way, I wanted the honor of dying in the same bed as my mother and father, when the time came.
Unfortunately I knew that the house was worth a lot, and man did I need money. I knew that without my father, I was going to face hard times, and since I’d been left the circus, I also had to take care of a lot of people. So I sold the beautiful house-on-the-beach to a nice young couple. I didn’t tell them about the death room. Then I got back on the road.

‘The road’ is not a kind place. Anyone who’s ever operated a freak show can tell you that. The amount of disfigured and wretched people that come to you and ask for work...It’s horrific. No one should have to be so desperate as to need to work in a freakshow. I hate to run one, but it’s a big hit, and while it IS demeaning work, I know it’s also the only work these guys can get. Like Jim (better known as The Worm), who probably would have died by now if my father hadn’t picked him up, or Andy, our Tiger Man. Andy is a deafmute, and no one hires those, even a strong, capable one like Andy. (Andy’s not his real name, as far as I know, but we have to call him something. And he isn’t from the forests of a foreign country- he’s from the urban jungle of New York, but that doesn’t make for a very exciting show.)
There are some people you can’t help, though. They’re called lepers. You can’t ever hire a leper, because while their half-eaten faces and limbs draw crowds, they’re diseased. One rotting leper can infect your entire circus- That’s what my father said, and I believe him.
I came across a leper as we were packing up. Half-deserted circuses are creepy places, even for those who work there. You’re automatically on high alert for stowaways and thieves at this time, and just about anyone wandering around a circus that’s closed down who isn’t staff is probably of unsavory character. So when Andy caught my arm and pointed to a thin, wraithlike figure wandering around where the ring had been, I had to go check it out. Naturally I dragged Andy with me as backup, too.
When the figure spotted us, it let out a high, keen gibbering and ran at us. I tensed up and drew back. Andy looked confused. For being as disabled as this thing was, it was fast, and before I knew it, it had me by the arm. It was begging and pleading at a rapid rate. It turned its moon-face up to me and I let out a shriek. It was missing a nose, and eye, and the right side of its face was a rotting, putrid mess.
“Please saave meeeeeee!” it wailed. Tears rolled out of its remaining eye and over its pallid cheek, “I’m dyiiiiing.”
He- from the voice that’s what I think it was- pawed at me with its gnarled hands. I could see bone where skin had been eaten away. Several fingers had fused together, rendering the hands useless. His arms protruded from his ragged jacket, and they were covered with open, weeping sores.
I lurched back and tried to run, but it clung to me surprisingly well.
“I won’t take you!” I yelled, trying to decide if I should hit it or not. I didn’t want to touch it, or hurt it, but I didn’t want it grabbing at me. My arm twitched and I shot a panicked look at Andy. He saw the fear in my eyes, I would later realize.
Andy acted for me. From the inside of his jacket he pulled a gun and shot. Being deaf, the retort of the revolver did nothing to him, but I was startled and deafened. I yelled as the leper fell away from me, red spreading quickly across the neck of his clothes. Andy had shot him in the side of the head so that he wouldn’t hit me. He was a good shot; At first I wondered who had taught him to fire, but I have a feeling it was our magician, who does a number of gun-tricks. The gun was one of his, too. Normally I’d have disagreed with giving Andy a weapon, but on that day I was glad.

We glanced at the small, shriveled corpse laying on the dry grass, and decided to leave it. Decay had already set it for this man. He would have died soon anyway, from the looks of things.
No one misses lepers, regardless.

For about a week I went disease-paranoid. I scrubbed myself vigorously every night, and checked myself over throughly in front of a mirror. I was certain that I was going to start falling apart any second. Clearly, I never did, thank gods.

Next time I spy someone wandering around the deserted fairgrounds, I think I’ll send someone else to see who it is.