Suitable for 12+
The Circus - Part 2
Hesitantly, I strolled into the tent, careful not to show my fear. I gasped. The tent was huge and gloomy, its tethered sides billowing in the wind. The wind howled beneath the tent, as if sounding an alarm. I pulled my jumper even closer to my body. I was freezing and I was shaking with fear. A terrible stench met my nostrils and I turned around, only to find myself staring at the seats.
They were wooden and rotten, the ground beneath them littered with chewing gum and stale urine. A horrible red smear of one of the seats caught my eye. I slowly clambered over the rows of decomposing wood, meticulously avoiding touching it with my bare hands. Reaching the seat, I inspected it closely. It was wooden and rotten but it had a large, red, trickling stain on it. I reached out my finger and, collecting some of the liquid, put it into my mouth. It was sour and sticky and had a strong taste of iron. It was blood. I doubled over and vomited all over the seat.
Sometime later, I stood up and took a deep breath. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I broke into a run. I was heading for the cloth doors of the Big Top. I ran down the steps and onto the soft sawdust that covered the floor. I suddenly lost my footing and fell to the ground. A terrible cackling suddenly filled my ears. It pierced my ears and I rolled over in pain. The cackling stopped, but the noise rang in my ears like the rhythmic sound of a bell. I hauled myself up off the ground and looked towards the entrance. It wasn’t there. Panicking, I spun around and looked desperately for a way out. Nothing. I clenched my fists. They were wet and sticky, covered with blood. I gagged, unable to bring anything up out of my empty stomach. I wiped them on my jumper and slumped, weeping on the floor.
I sat hopelessly for a few minutes until the cackling began again. It was agonizingly painful and I howled in pain. It stopped abruptly and a cheerful voice announced, “Let the show begin!” before cackling one last time then falling silent. I inhaled sharply and screamed.
My clothes were ripping and large bloody gashes were appearing on my body. Every cut was gushing blood and my clothes were soon ripped to shreds. It was agony and it was impossible to swat at the imaginary beasts that were tormenting me. I screamed in pain; as soon as the sound left my throat my windpipe closed. I choked, clutching at my throat but it was as though a rope was being held taut round my neck. I could feel my eyes bulging and I struggled to my feet. I scraped at my neck but my attempts were worthless. I was dying.
A figure stepped out from the other side of the tent. He walked casually over to me, a menacing smirk on his face. He clicked his fingers and suddenly the imaginary rope disappeared. I gasped for air, and collapsed onto the sawdust.
The person was standing over me, watching me when I came round. He was wearing three-quarter length baggy trousers that were covered in patches and stitches. His top was also baggy and he had bright red fluffy hair. It was his face though that really terrified me. His mouth was pulled up by pins into a grotesque smile, and his eyes twinkled with evil. He was wearing traditional clown make-up and I heard him cackle under his breath, before yanking my hair. I yelped and looked him in the eye. He grinned and said, “Let the fun begin!"