(daddy's little girl) (Permanently Discontinued)

chapter seventeen

Time was ticking away, the sun had set and the moon was up. It had a glow to it, the halo glowed brightly around it, illuminating the fluffy clouds around it.

Cash clicked his tongue, the crowd wasn't too happy with blitzø's performance. The only one who seemed to like it was a little bird boy.

Blitzø failed miserably at making a balloon horse that had all of its legs.

Even his jokes sucked, but despite that the bird boy still laughed and cheered. He had enough, it was time to pull blitzø out of the act and put in someone else.

And that's exactly what he did, he put in one of his more experienced performer who seemed to get the crowd going.

"Alright, look, son. I get that fizzarolli is in the hospital- but how about you leave the entrainment to the real performers."

Cash spoke, watching as blitzø's shoulders slumped down.

Blitzø walked back to his room, his shoulders still slumber down. His first time finally being in the spotlight and he screws it up.

Blitzø walked into his room, if he could even call it that. The only thing protecting him from the cold was a thin sheet, that had patches sewn into the fabric.

The tents ceiling had a few small holes in it. He wished he had said no to his father's offer to work at the circus, if he had stayed home, if he had he'd be eating nice, fresh warm meals everyday instead of eating beans for supper every night.

But his mother seemed so happy, even if his mother didn't have a lot of money she seemed so happy.

So he couldn't say no to his pa, not after his ma looked so happy.

Pa had gotten fizzarolli to join too, since everybody enjoyed seeing fizzarolli more than they did with him.

It hurt, to know that his own pa favoured fizzarolli more than he did with him. It was like he didn't even exist, he was just merely there.

He never saw him, he only saw through him and saw the money. His ma, saw him for him, and so did you.

You didn't care if he was rich, or if he was poor. If he didn't wear nice clothes, even when you found out he couldn't read or spell.

You were still so kind to him, even going as far as to teach him how to read and write. Even his own sister didn't have the time or patience like you and his mother did.

Leaning down he scooped up a stuffy he made. It looked just like you, expect the face. He didn't have the materials to make your eyes and nose properly.

"You care about me, right?"

He asked the stuffy, watching it's head flop to the side.

He carried the stuffy to his makeshift bed, laying down on it.

He held the stuffy to his chest, closing his eyes. He'd visit with later on tonight, when his pa is asleep and everybody leaves.

Word count 510