The circus, it's aplace where reality melts away like wax beneath the flames. Where laughter and terror dance hand in hand, each step punctuated by gasps and giggles. A realm where the mundane becomes bizarre, the grotesque mesmerizing, and the impossible a breathtaking certainty. Can we ever truly return to the ordinary after witnessing such wonders and horrors on that spinning, colorful stage? Our hearts and minds forever entwined with the circus's intoxicating, twisted magic.
Even in the chaos of the circus ring, there's an order, much like the heartbeat of life itself. Each performer takes their cue from the music and light, creating a spectacle that defies logic yet captivates our senses.
When I swing from a trapeze or walk on a thin wire above the
ground, I look like I'm defying death. Clowns entertain people with their absurd antics. Some do gymnastics on the ground, while others perform by training with animals such as elephants and tigers. Everyone has different abilities and tasks.
Sounds fascinating, right? You are the star of the show with your
extraordinary talent, you amaze everyone who watches you. Your life is spent in a fairy tale in the circus. Oh, man you must be living like a king! I must admit, it was what I thought when I got off the truck and saw the tents. But when the day ends and the lights go out, no one knows what's behind the curtains.
You must have come across horror movies about circus life. But
sometimes the truth is far scarier than any fiction could ever be. People choose to cover it up. Maybe because it's easier that way, or maybe because they don't have the strength to resist. Humans... disgusting, stupid creatures. They use the power they have to inflict ruthless harm. I can't help seeing myself as a completely different being. A mistake.
You may not believe in heaven or hell. If there was a god, they
wouldn't leave us alone. It is said that those who do not believe in the afterlife, experience hell on earth. My hell started when I was born.
I adored my mother, she was a beacon of strength. Despite our
modest means, she managed to provide for us children admirably. We did what we could to aid her, though the weight of our debts hung heavy over us, a burden we inherited from our father. Our once father left without trace, abandoning us to the crushing weight of his debts. With unyielding fortitude, mother toiled tirelessly, even my siblings and I labored alongside her.
When the day of reckoning arrived, even the memory of what
transpired caused me to tremble, reduced to helpless tears. They
murdered my mother, kidnapped my siblings and me...
"But the poor one looks scared. He was very neglected where I
found him."
Hours ticked by like grains of sand, each minute an eternity as I
awaited someone's arrival in the desolate tent. Noon passed without so much as a whisper, and still, no footsteps echoed outside. As dusk settled, the silence grew thicker, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the circus coming to life. I spent an entire day in that solitary tent.
The tent flap swung open, revealing the manager's imposing figure. His movements were calculated, devoid of warmth, sending a chill down my spine. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he rummaged through the crates, his actions mechanical. He produced a gaudy costume, tossing it at me with all the tenderness of a stone. "Show tent. Hurry." He growled, his words dripping with malice before he exited, leaving me to scramble into the garish attire.
A lone clap echoed through the cavernous space as I stepped onto the stage. "Ian Abbott!" The manager called out, his voice echoing around me. "Oh, don't be surprised, for I have dug into your pathetic life. Your decision to remain within that tent for an entire day instead of go out, proved that you're nothing more than a coward."
"Fear makes you weak, Abbott," the manager continued. "For your luck, it won't last long. You'll be an acrobat, and I'll teach you everything you need to know."
Every inferno, it seems, has it's guardian. The name of mine is
Roger Smalls. Once was a daring acrobat, he now commands the circus with an iron fist.
An acrobat can take on many roles, but the main function is to
amaze the crowd by performing death-defying stunts. To achieve this goal, we show endless patience and endurance by doing the same movements over and over again. We perform various positions and movements such as somersaults, backflips, parandexes, and handstands on devices such as seesaws or trapeze. Flexibility and strong balance are the only companions we have.
Days merged into months, months into years. As I grew older, so
too did the wounds that marred my flesh, each one a testament to the cruelty that had been inflicted upon me. As I beheld the menagerie of beasts, their training sessions unfolded before me like a macabre ballet. The crack of the whip, the flash of pain in the animal's eyes, the tears that flowed freely down my cheeks; yet I remained frozen, powerless to intervene. To behold such suffering was a torment unto itself.
My training grew in complexity with each passing day, pushing my limits to their very edge. Yet, even as I struggled to keep pace, I could sense the disappointment. Smalls found my novicety insufferable.
I learnt that the violence wasn't limited to the animals; it extended to everyone in the circus. His cane, usually reserved for locomotion, found new purpose as a tool of correction. It's impact reverberated through my flesh, leaving trails of agony in it's wake. As the blows rained down, my vision became a blur of pain and humiliation. Each failed attempt to rise after being fell only served to fan the flames of his wrath, leaving me sprawled upon the ground. My wounds never healed, on the contrary, new ones always appeared which made it even more difficult for me to do these movements. But there was no escape. The more mistakes I make, the more punishment methods became severe.
My first performance on stage was a disaster. Performing before
such an immense audience petrified me, causing me to smear my visage and palms with nervous sweat. Late at that night, I spotted Smalls standing before me, his arms concealed behind his back.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll do better-" I stammered, only to be abruptly silenced by a relentless barrage of lashes from his whip. One after another, they fell upon my quivering flesh without respite. In the midst of the performance tent, amidst the glare of the spotlight, I succumbed to unconsciousness, sprawled helplessly upon the stage.
What once terrified me was no longer stepping onto the stage, but rather the unknown fate that awaited me at Smalls' hands following each performance. As the days passed, my acts improved, transforming into a spectacle that elicited thunderous applause from the audience. With each cheer, my rations increased, and I found myself driven to surpass even my own expectations. The stage became my sanctuary, a
place where I could lose myself in the thrill of the performance, safe from the cruelty that lurked in the shadows. While under the spotlight, I was invincible, untouchable. It was the only time I felt truly free and safe.
I was only twelve years old when I embarked on my aerial
adventure. As I honed my skills, I began to specialize in high-flying tricks, which earned me admiration and accolades from the audience. Eventually, unique platforms were constructed to accommodate my breathtaking displays, propelling me to new heights of artistic expression.
Now, as a seventeen yeas rold expert in aerial acrobatics, I find
exhilaration and freedom above the stage. Though there are risks associated with my craft, I prefer to rely on skill and experience rather than safety devices. These moments of perilous flight, witnessed with bated breath by the audience, evoke a profound awareness of our shared humanity and vulnerability. This heightened sense of aliveness is what drives me to push the boundaries of my art form. That's my favorite part: Being so close to death.
There was a rush outside because we were packing up our nomadic circus. Festival season was starting and our first stop; San Diego, California.