What Happened Under The Big Tent (IT'S ALL PART OF THE SHOW SEQUEL)

Chapter III🦂Father's Legacy

...What will your legacy be.

Cameras shuttered, their large bright flashes came from the gathered crowd before him.
Nothing big had happened yet and why would they listen to a poor immigrant man without parents... a man with nothing who was speaking of big dreams in a small town and word?
-On the contrary, he didn't not have anything. The truth? He had all he wanted: a magnificent carnival, a legacy, a name for himself and a child -a daughter who he couldn't have asked for more.

My father hadn't done anything too elaborate yet, but all of his labor... all of his money, time, talent and resources were about to make a show for themselves.
"My father—"
Marcus Cochran spoke.

The cameras clicked and snapped as a few of the reporters scribbled notes down on their paper pads. Even from under the table, I knew much of the happenings from the spot where my dad sat. I saw the contortionist's heels come across the floor before she stopped placing a silver plater down softly o the table to my father's right side.
"See, my father had the worst luck. Life delt him a bumb hand—"
My father continued.
"And when I was very young, he got sick and then he died."

I often wonder what it would have been like to meet my grandfather... what my father's father was like... or would have been like.
I wonder if Marcus remembers anything about his father: William in detail...

                                  ~
Even at 4-years old, I knew my father better than anyone: better than Taylor who at this time- I hadn't the slightest hint of her existence even better than the contortionist bent backwards on the table in front of my father -whose name I would learn from my father was Elizabeth. She was a great performer and friend and could quite possibly be the loyalist business partner my father could have known.
Aside from Bartholomew of course -a man of mystery... much like my father— me, I guess it runs in the family.

Bartholomew though was loyal, hard-working, tolerant, intelligent and a wonderful person of many words and phrases... descriptions and stories. Oh the stories that he must hold... between him and my father, there is an entire archive of ancestry, stories, memories and not to mention legacy's. I wonder now- more often than not, what pages Taylor held and I wonder what ever became of the woman I might call my mother.

"Poor and destitute. My father left only one possession behind. A gold coin- this one! This one here."
I saw my father's feet, knees and legs shift slightly as he tucked the coin carefully back into the pocket of his gray trousers.

"—dream with both hands! And never let it go!"
My dad said with a bit of force enlaced un his voice.

Before long, I grew tired.
We had been out for quite some time- Elizabeth, Marcus, Bartholomew and I. So when I found emerald my eyes growing tired, I didn't hesitate to fall asleep.

And fall asleep I did. Softly and without any sound, I went from sitting on the floorboards at my father's feet -encased in his best black polished dress shoes and crimson socks under the rectangular table, to now laying down.

I laid on my side and pulled my short and thin braids out from beneath my head -carful not to undo or alter the white ribbon which Marcus had tied up in bows before leaving our small house that we called home. -The house we would never return to. The house would grow old and into disrepair within a year or two and it's windows would more than likely shatter in a matter of time. -A once cozy front yard with an oak tree and tire swing, would succumb to weeds and be swallowed by the unattended grass.

As I curled up, I closed my eyes thinking about how my mother: Taylor Greens had once braided my short hair and that was how my father had learned. My father practiced on his curly hair and I would practice on the manes of the horses in the Circus' animal menagerie.

Welcome to The Cochran Circus
Behold my father's Carnival
And have the greatest time imaginable a the show, because this is my father's dream and our legacy.

(738 words)