Another:
The Circus For Fools

I explore.
The door, old and wrought iron, has tiny little words painted in white all over the bars, and it's all in languages I don't know. To my right are words, white metal bars twisted into the word 'Open'. I feel a bit wary, but all around, on the old bricks is the same iron decorative shapes, some words, some designs, most black, but some little splashes of color. The door swings open without a hitch.

I don't immediately see what it is yet, but there is the noise, the music (for I realize it was music), and people. My eyes adjust to the brightness, and before I'm fully aware of what is going on, a woman about my height marches over, her attire strictly Victorian, and her demeanor friendly. She speaks with a Cockney accent so thick I have to wonder I'm not in England. 
She welcomes me, and ushers me farther in--and suddenly I know what this is. A freakshow. I've read about them, and as far as I knew, everyone had abandoned them. They were 'undignified', or something. As far as I was concerned, if the participants were willing, then why not?
It was free, though I didn't actually realize it till I had left. I never saw it again, that magical place, but again, I never knew that until I went back the next day. The people performed stunts I hadn't known existed. I couldn't tell you exactly what had happened, though I do know that woman that greeted me sat beside me most of the night, and only as I left did I notice her skin had an odd, scale-like sheen to it.

The man who seemed to lead the performances was short, and charisma poured from his loud laugh, his sparkling eyes, and every movement of his broad shoulders. He seemed to participate in every act, and I wondered at how one person could be so talented. I did not see anything odd about him either, though every performance, every trapeze artist, every clown and daredevil, seemed to be of a different stock of human. I don't even mean the deformities or oddities, but rather the way they were able to make you see beauty in everything they did. 

I was there forever. It seemed as though I were never to leave, I recall eating cakes and drinking tea while sitting on silken pillows--watching a dance of Titiana and Oberon, it felt. Finally, I was almost asleep, and the kind woman who had shown me in leads me to the door. Suddenly there I see him--the ringmaster. He grins at me, and I hear his voice as though it were the only clear sound in my cloudy ears. 

"I am glad you enjoyed our performance. " He says nothing else, and I am struck with familiarity. Quietly, I venture, "What is your na--"

He holds a finger to his lips. "Secret. But I promise you this, Clarie--"
My eyes widen, and I step back uncertainly.
He smiles, and I see the flash of teeth. I cannot leave. The woman has stepped in front of the door.


"You...are an extremely delectable fool."