Circus of Silence

Curtain Call

~*~

Your legs lock.

You can't even talk.

You can't scream when Hecate leans forward.

"Be not afraid of greatness," her voices quote

as she caresses your face

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness,"

You finish the last line for her.

"And some have greatness thrust upon them."

~*~

             The sign wasn't hers.

Rosalind Maybrush hadn't asked the caricaturist to paint the Circus Everlasting a sign. She hadn't approved it. She hadn't put it up. The sign, that stood facing the Outside world under the sign that read 'WELCOME HOME' simply was not hers.

The writing at the bottom was hers, the swooping, curling handwriting her mother had made her practice for an hour every day, when she'd been alive. The words, however, were not. Or at least, that was what she thought. A few weeks had passed since she'd first become the Marquee Witch, but she still found that her head was a little swimmy, her memories hidden beneath a shroud of fog. What was her mother's name? What did she look like? Rosalind had no idea, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was that the Circus Everlasting fancied it would open this morning at 10 o'clock sharp. It made Rosalind Maybrush's mouth fall open like that of a carp. Open? She wasn't ready to open the circus.

But the Circus was ready to open, and she wasn't quite sure if it could take a 'no'. Deciding resistance was folly, Rosalind Maybrush turned to go. She came face-to-face with Harrison Wallis. "Any other ground-breaking changes I should know about?" she asked as the young man frowned by way of greeting. Rosalind assumed that because he could read minds, Harrison forgot the Marquee could not read his.

Harrison completely ignored her question, his mouth falling open like hers had just seconds ago. "We're opening today?" he cried, throwing in gags between words. Rosalind felt he was laying it on a bit thick. "But... I'm sick!" Thankfully, by now, she knew what made Harrison tick. She whistled nine notes nicely, hoping it would do the trick.

"How do you feel now?" she asked. Since she'd momentarily lost it, not too long ago and tried to kill poor Stripes with her trusty letter opener, Rosalind had been extra careful of when she'd use her powers. At the same time, she practised good witchcraft whenever possible. She'd promised Whisper, after all. She'd steal Stripes' stripes. She'd make him human again if that was the last thing she ever did.

In the Circus Everlasting, she'd have lots of time to do so.

Her answer was not hard to glean, as Harrison still looked very, very green. "I think you just made it worse." Rosalind was not a very good nurse. Harrison turned around and vomited into a pretty little dustbin of little, grey pebbles. "Why me? Why now?"

A handkerchief materialized out of thin air. It was white and soft with lace on the bottom, and Harrison admired the fabric before using it to wipe his mouth. She watched his eyes narrow above it, and his silence made the Witch want to have a fit. "Huh," he said without explaining.

"What?" With a short burst of humming, Rosalind called her friend back to her side. She led him towards the Carousel- and the Circus confectionery's maddening smell.