Circo

The train pulled to a stop at the station that I needed, and I didn’t hesitate to throw my backpack over my shoulder and step off of the train. I looked left and right, getting my bearings, before making my way to a small coffee shop and picking up a pastry to tide me over for the night.

I looked up at the clock, the time telling me that it was nearing 6.30, that didn’t leave me with as much time as I’d hoped. I left the station as quickly as possible, hailing a cab to take me to the location of the circus.

I climbed in and pulled some money out of my pocket, so that it wouldn't take me too long to look for it when we arrived. I had enough money to keep me going for a short while; but if things didn’t go well tonight, then I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to make ends meet.

My parents thought that they’d done a pretty good job at hiding all of the money they had. They weren’t hiding it from me, but from one another. God knows why they’re still even married. Mum drinks because Dad’s never around and Dads never around because Mum drinks.

Its funny how that works, isn’t it?

“This is your stop, son,” the fat cab driver drawled out, wheezing through tar covered lungs. It was obvious he was a heavy smoker, and not just from the fact that he’d had about four cigarettes throughout the whole time I’ve been in the vehicle. A whole seventeen point four minutes. Yeah, I keep count.

I handed him the money I owed, and climbed out, grumbling at him. I resented the fact that he had called me son. Even amongst the constant cloud of smoke that followed the man, I was certain that he could probably prove to be a better father than the one I already had.

I then heard him sneeze, and then inhale, making some very repulsing noises and shook my head, I think I’d rather have my father, at least he understood basic hygiene and courtesy.

I walked for a short way until I turned the corner into the large grassy area of a park where tonight’s festivities were being held, the large structure of the tent looming over me. All of a sudden, I was six years old again.

There was a queue for people who didn’t already have a ticket, and Frank joined. It wasn’t long until he was at the front, staring at a bored looking man with a large beard.

“How may I help you?”

“I need a job,” I said nonchalantly.

This probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, since the ticket man obviously assumed I was joking and said: “A child’s ticket it is then,” in a patronising voice.

“No I—” I was interrupted as the man announced the price of the ticket, obviously not interested in any arguments I was going to put forward.

He printed it off and handed it to me as I placed the money on the counter with a bemused look on my face. I guess I’d find out about the job after the show.

I stepped into the tent behind the queue of people and hastily took my seat, looking around for someone who looked slightly authoritive of this place. My bag and my guitar were securely at my feet, I hadn’t really had a chance to leave them anywhere else, anywhere safe. Luckily no-one was sitting next to me, I’m sure they wouldn’t be too thrilled about having to move their legs to accommodate a guitar.

I noticed that this place didn’t look much like the circus I’d been to ten years ago, but I suppose they’re not all the same.

Rather than the primary colours decorating the contours of the tent, this one was just a dull brown colour and looked almost like it had been dipped in a cup of tea or coffee.

The performing circle however looked a lot more high-cost, expensive light fixtures of many different colours as well as dry ice machines creating a mysterious fog around the floor.
The lights faded out and a bright spot light shone at a door that was placed at the back end of the ring. Music started up, slow and dramatic at the same time. I was hooked.

A large man in a black waist coat stepped into the ring, a top hat on his head and a cane in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he smirked into the crowd. His accent had a taste of Italian weaved into it, but it wasn’t too strong. “I welcome you here tonight to our circus and thank you for choosing to spend your evening with us; do not worry though, my friends, for we shall not disappoint,” His eyes flickered around the room, and a drum roll slowly filled the air.

A man who looked as though he should be stuck in the upper class of some old French movie stepped out behind the curtain dragging a plain black piece of material with him. The fat man, obviously the ringleader smirked at the French looking man, and took his hat off of his head, taking a bow as the man placed the cloth over him.

A scantily clad woman shimmied her way into the ring carrying a wand in her hands, handing it flirtatiously to the man who I now understood was a magician.

She danced away from him, shaking her hips and smiling with a cheeky glint in her eye, obviously thrilled with the fact that practically every single male eye in the tent that night followed her.

My eyes stayed glued on the magician as he held the wand up, showing it to the audience, before tapping the back of the ringleader a couple of times and shouting out an incomprehensible word.

The cloth moved a little, but there still appeared to be a shape under the cloth so it was a shock to myself and everyone else in the audience when he pulled the cloth away to reveal...well...nothing.

The rest of the night went much the same. I felt so much like I did when I was six. My mouth hung open in awe. There were people swinging from swings attached to the top of the tent and walking along ropes. There was a man who ate knives and breathed fire as well as a woman who could behind into all sorts of weird positions.

I all of a sudden didn’t feel worthy of a job here.

“And now,” the fat man with the thin accent said as he stood in the middle of the ring. “We have reached the last act of our show for you here tonight.” The lights began to lower, and so did the music until it was just the wailing violin. “Please, welcome to the ring...Our Star..” As he uttered the last word, some effect kicked in that made his voice echo away completely as the tent became pitch black. It was kind of late into the night now, as well as being winter anyway, so you could barely even see your hand in front of your face.

A spot light slowly slipped on to reveal a strip of material hanging directly into the centre of the ring. Smoke floated lazily around the floor, meaning that the bottom of the silk looked as though it never ended. Eerie shadows were being cast across the roof of the tent as well as the sides, and I couldn’t help but smile. I’d love to witness this every single night.

A figure appeared from behind the silk, and I must admit, I didn’t mind the view.

He was shirtless apart from what was required to hold him to a harness, revealing many muscles that were obviously necessary for what his job was. As well as this, on his bottom half was simply a pair of skin tight legging type things. Obviously to make him a lot more...aerodynamic.

I bit my lip as he walked around the ring, eyeing up the audience, his toe pointing and hip shaking with each step he took. He took a hold of the silk and paused while someone sorted out his harness so he could safely do his act.

His leg wrapped around the silk, and I watched on in awe as he started to climb up the material. It can’t have been silk, surely he would have slipped?

When he was about half way up, he started tying the material around him in certain ways so that he could do some tricks in his mid-air state. Even the fact that he was in a harness didn’t comfort me all that much.

His body morphed through the air and around the silk like putty...only that wasn’t a good way to describe it because putty is horrible and clumsy, whereas whatever ‘the star’ was doing right now was so graceful it was certain to put the Moscow Ballet to shame.

Towards the end of the act he came down from the silk, standing at the foot of the material, smirking out at the crowd. His eyes met with mine for a second, and I’m certain that I almost passed out even though I had to remember that although he’d looked at me, he probably hadn’t seen me.

He started fiddling with the straps of his harness, undoing them and then slipping the jacket like structure from around his shoulders, revealing his now completely bare chest.

He held it up by one finger with a daring look on his face, before he dropped it to the floor with a thud and began his decent up the material once more.

This time I’m certain I was going to be sick.

He began wrapping the silk around himself with one hand, while holding himself up with the other, every so often slipping a little. I’m not sure if he was just doing that for show or not.

When most of the material was wrapped around him, there was a short drum roll and the hand holding him up let go. My eyes went wide and a couple of women in the audience even shrieked.

He was getting closer and closer to the ground, the material unravelling as he went and at literally the last second before his head would have hit the floor he stopped.

He was hanging upside down in the ring with the material wrapped firmly around his leg and his foot holding what appeared to be a knot. He held onto the cloth and unravelled his leg from the material before slipping down onto the floor, landing and giving a majestic bow, smirking out into the crowd; almost as if he was mocking us for believing that he was going to fall.

As all of the performers of the nights show came out into the ring and took a bow, I couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of excitement worm its way into my gut.

One night, very soon, I was going to be there with them.

Doing what however, is a mystery to even me.