The History of the Phantom

The Highlights In Hell

From what I previously told you, you may be thinking how terrible my life was like as a young boy. It definitely was awful, but the faire had some nice things to offer. First things first, they only locked me in the cage for a show so I had an actual room to sleep in at night. They even gave me a real bed! What's the big point about that, you may ask. When I lived with my mom she made me sleep on the rug in the living room because she was too cheap to buy me one. Not only was it incredibly refreshing to finally sleep on something so cushiony and warm, I had it all to myself. 

Also the food they gave us there was exquisite compared to what I was used to getting. The fruit and vegetables at the faire didn't have an inch of rotten spots while my mom's were all one color, brown. It was hard to tell whether you were eating a banana or broccoli. That's why I grew up as a hater of healthy foods and barely ate them. The bread at the faire wasn't like the stale, hard kind that I used to always eat. It was so warm and fluffy, it melted in your mouth like butter. During breakfast, they usually had this thin-like bread meals with a dollop of a cream so sweet it tasted like heaven.

As for the people there, they were alright. They were only scary during the shows when I got beaten up. It wasn't really like I was the only one getting hurt so I made a few acquaintances who had similar experiences. For the person who had no arms, he was challenged to somehow manage to catch items that people threw at him. The woman with the beard had a bunch of men shouting insults at her that lowered her self esteem to the point of extreme depression. The woman and no armed man were very close friends, maybe even best friends. They were probably around in their early thirties so it was a huge age gap between me and them which made it hard for us to connect. However, they were very nice to me and always invited me to eat at their table.

"Hello young fellow," greeted the no armed man as I sat down across from him with a plateful of chopped peaches and a sandwich.

"Hi sir," I said back to him.

I began eating my peaches as the bearded lady was scooping apple sauce into the guy's mouth. After a while she stopped and looked at her own food. She continued to look at her sandwich as if staring at it would give her an appetite. For some reason, she seemed too disgusted to even touch it. Then she looked at the man and it seemed as if they were having a conversation through their minds. I could tell, what they were thinking wasn't something very happy. They both look at me with confusion and sadness in their eyes.

"Tell us, how old are you?" the bearded lady asked. She looked at me as if I was a little puppy being stepped on.

"Seven," I told her. That was when tears and shame started to form in her eyes. Back then, I didn't quite understand what made her cry. I thought she was just having a bad day. When I finally became a man and I looked back on the memory, I realized both of them felt sorry for me. They were two of the only people who thought of my show act as a horrific beating to an innocent child, than an exciting hitting to a boy that looks like the devil.

"He's too young. He's just a child. Why is the world so cruel?" She whispered as she sobbed into the palms of her hands. I ask myself that everyday now. Why did the world find pleasure in my sufferings? Was I a target people could shoot arrows at whenever they wanted?

"Son, by the time you are an adult, can you promise us something?" The no armed guy asked.

"Of course," I responded.

"When you're a grown man, can you leave this place and live a life you deserve? Find a job, fall in love, and have children just like a normal person would."

Even though I grew up in a rough place, I was still only a seven year old who dreamed about toys. The last thing I wanted to think about was my future. Instead of giving him my promise, I stood up and left the room with my lunch.