Drabble Wednesday: Circus Macabre

Today on Drabble Wednesday I've run away and joined the circus, but not just any circus. No, I bring you a carnival of the gruesome, a dark and wicked place full of the strange and morbid. And whatever you do, don’t talk to any clowns…

The Ringmaster

“Come one, come all!

“Welcome to the Circus Strange!”

A voice echoes, as a crowd of people push into a sprawling circus tent, and take their seats.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen!”

A spotlight shines on the centre ring and the man standing there.

“Let me introduce myself. I am your host.

“I am the Ringmaster!

“To your eternity!”

Confusion mutters and sputters through the gathered throng.

“Arise my hungry pets, time to start the show!”

From the shadows creep a horde of fanged and slavering beasts.

“Begin the feast!

“Oh, and my condolences, ladies and gentlemen, on your untimely deaths.”

The Acrobat

You see her, high above the sawdust covered floor. She floats, as if on gossamer, a mortal angel spinning on a hoop. She twinkles, the starry spangles in her costume shining their light on an earth-bound below.

She waves, blows a kiss, and smiles. A strange sensation inundates your body. You hear her voice, a dulcet whisper in your ear.

Fly with me.

Someone tugs your arm as you rise, you hear the shouts, but you still run, you climb the acrobat’s ladder to reach her.

Fly with me.

“Yes.” You whisper to her, and jump.

But you cannot fly.

The Clown

Hello, my little darling. You’re such a pretty child.

Where are your parents? Oh, you’re lost?

So sad. I’ll cheer you up. Would you like to see me perform?

No? Why? Oh.

Well, don’t  be afraid.

What’s a circus without a clown?

I’ll show you tricks, make you laugh.

There now, that’s better . Scoot a bit closer, closer.

Now watch me juggle.

Ow, ouch! The balls fell on my head. Oh, such laughter!

You want more? I have more. Just over there.

That’s right, come with me. Take my hand.

Such a pretty child.

You’ll make a tasty dinner.

Fortune Teller

You step past the flap into his tent. The scent of  old canvas, cologne, and rum assails your nose. He waits, seated in a wooden chair, facing a round table. No words are said, you merely sit opposite him. You study him, the rakish top hat upon his head, the deck of cards in his hand.  Not a typical fortune teller.

With dexterity he shuffles. His fancy moves impress, despite your misgivings.

He deals the cards. Then his hand clutches your wrist. He speaks.

“You cannot change you fate.  Tonight you die.”

He smiles, before flashing his knife.

You scream.

And here’s a bonus poem, to leave to you with nightmares…

Circus of the Insane

Enter, enter to see the Show

and welcome to the Center Ring

of our Pain.

We do things a bit differently

here in this Big Top, at the Circus

of the Insane.

There are no acts of daring do,

no, we run a horror show and mess

with your Brain.

Admittance is your freedom;

allow me to strap you to your seat.

May Madness Reign!