A Creepy Story

The creature sat upon the treetop observing the calamity below. Rough edges shaped the distance in intricacy. Floating leaves that would normally obscure sight made sharper the movement of little things.

The circus below shone in discordance. The crowd resembled a large organic shape with fragments of colour bending time. Impatience held softly in the air.

The freak show couple were on a break and so relaxed the man and woman stared blankly into infinite space. The back room was filled with circus performers. The masked man held a ribbon wound about his shoulders as the trapeze artist sat on his lap with the end of it between her fingers. The conglomeration of individuals had a smorgasbord before them. As they chatted they drank coffee, soda, water, but not alcohol. They were not allowed to imbibe at performance time. Two clowns sat at make-up tables and a games table girl joined them, sharing lipstick. Girls dressed like birds of paradise caressed a large round lamp for a photograph and it looked like they were touching the sun. The magic man in the top hat snapped pictures for the sake of nostalgia. Was that a kid running around?

Innocence is never lost and that's not another story so just wait and see how this ends. The decrepit first must leave so the show can go on. That was a general theme but no one really knew what that meant, it seemed to be just an idea that they wrestled with or quietly acquiesced to.

Unsure of what counterculture is but grateful it's a thing of the past, a wrestler tied his boots. He had to go on next and he was getting claustrophobic.

The Main Show was under the Big Top and three smaller shows in platforms that circled it. A wide lane way of games stalls and food booths surrounded the whole of the circus. There was one entrance and exit. It was early evening and the place was crowded.

The oversized wrestlers faced off. Each were wearing a body suit, one with little hair, one with lots of hair.

“Beauty and the Bandit,” roared the figure in the top hat. “...will show lightening speed and monumental strength.”

With that, Bandit sought to out perform and jumped ahead of the start whistle challenging Beauty. With a triggered release Beauty lost composure and with a sweep of his hair challenge met lunge and in a second Bandit was in the air and flying. The fight was over. The crowd roared. Five attendants came out from the sidelines and dragged the Bandit off stage in the direction of the makeshift back room.

The acrobats' pulleys alighted. A different kind of leotard ascended. Again the crowd made collective noise in anticipated thrill. The svelte acrobats, male and female, with heavy makeup and ultimate composure took their positions to entertain and delight. It was all about allure, this they knew. Entice the audience to stay, was their role.

The Handler, looking much like a vampire, stood outside the big tent waving people in. He wore a three-piece shiny black suit, a striking red tie and had a broad smile that hid stained teeth. Why they called him The Handler no one knew unless it was because he handled all the money as people passed through.

His Assistant named Twister, eyed the Handler readily, hoping to catch a nuance of anything. Twister was more clever. The crossed lover with a thousand women behind him looked like a 1950s movie star with a scarf around his neck and wore sunglasses in the dim light. He knew The Handler was up to something. He didn't really care and he didn't really admire him, he just wanted to see what happened next.

With each call by the Handler to the people to enter the tent, their sharper images blurred as they did. Some people traipsed through, some danced a little, some glided rather gallantly, but none walked normally, from side to side even. If they hesitated in their steps at all their form faded and glided away, led by some unseen, gently whispering parable. Transparent, ghost-like the rest dissipated in the norm. Only the strange arrived, more than a few went through, but who was led to believe the difference? None. Twister had seen it a thousand times and each time he had the same response, his mouth fell open and eyes widened. What the hell.

The outer perimeter widened, expanded for those who entered as if by some invisible effort. The stalls and booths though decorated were all empty. There was nowhere to play games. The geographically zoned ones soon realized if they didn't enter the circus tent their ticket crumbled and they were left clinging to the edge of time. Hanging by some unnatural force where their energy was weakened. The drift was expansive, a horrible drop. So, in the Big Top they went and stood or sat. The entertainment was the same every day. It wasn't long before the lack of amusement bridled their senses. Boredom was the restitution, it was either that or swat flies. So, there were antics in the aisles and the hallways. They showed off to each other making tricks of their own, by slights of hand, contorting faces, standing on their hands, trying summer saults, etc. If they wandered to the exit to leave, the Handler was suddenly there to charge them money for another ticket. They were never allowed to leave, they just had to pay more.

Occasionally an escapee who crawled beneath the walls of the Big Top. The creature in the tree top was still toward this moment. The giant black-winged, false feathered-like thing, with hideous claws and an essence dark as night, arched his back, circled once and dove.

Welcome to Level four of the underworld.

Horror is not my usual genre but since it is Hallowe'en, well you know. Have a creatureless night, bahaha.

Books by Lisa Lachapelle