Cold wind howled menacingly, the skeletal branches shivered in the silvery light of the moon and in the distance strikingly coloured caravans surrounded a crackling fire, though slightly blurred by the faint fog. On the outskirts of London, a small crowd began to form as they trudged through the muddy field to the carnival. Women held up their dresses fearing their petticoats would get wet in the damp grass. The children’s faces were lit up in the amber glow, ignoring the calls from their parents. Hypnotic music from the carnival filtered to their ears and drew them even closer. Huge tents of red and white strips stood tall and proud before them, black smoke puffed out from the top. It mixed in with the pollution clouds from the industrial machines of London, obscuring the light from the moon. Buntings and flags shook rapidly, the wind was moving towards the tent, as if pushing the audience closer to the entrance.
Inside the tent the Ringleader sat on the front steps of his caravan, his top hat pulled low over his face, he peered at the children watching them watching him, and a slow grin came to his face. He tapped his fingernails on his pocket watch, they were right on time. With long spidery legs he stood and jumped off the porch, his tail coat flying behind him, landing right in front of them.
Young sweet little children, their excited chubby faces, some still sticky with sugar. Hardly surprising when it came to the rich to spoil their youngsters with treats of deliciousness, some staining their lacy collars and trimmings with the sweet syrup from the candy apples.
The audience gazed up at their host, something about him was off putting but something else only moved them nearer. Maybe it was the charming smile that spread across his face, or the glimmer of his shiny ice blue eyes. His skin was pale and outlined his jaw and cheek bones clearly, his raven hair glazed down to his neck like a silky river. His length was tall and his width was thin, like a skeleton. His puffed sleeves hung shapelessly off his arms, his vest tightening the fabric to his chest, and an emerald cravat held it all together at the top. He tipped his hat and bowed low as the people approached.
“Welcome one and all” he exclaimed in an elegant English enunciation, his eyes never leaving the happy children staring at him with wide innocent eyes. “And good All Hallows Eve to you Madams, Sirs and children” The men gave nervous nods while the women fluttered their eyelashes and giggled. The Ringleader glared momentarily and sneered at the sight of one of the men’s gold embroidered vest while his own was plain white. “I am at your service for this frightful and delightful evening” He waved and fell in line behind them. Gesturing with his head and hands he directed the show; people rapidly ran past, and dwarves carried things here and there. Nothing was left to chance. This was a well-oiled machine and the net was closing in…
Posters had been stuck up round the cobbled street, giving the public a week’s notice of the travelling freak show, for the one year occasion of All Hallows Eve. ‘The Midnight Moon Traveling Freak Show, curious characters with curious acts’ was their slogan, and curious characters indeed there were.
The fortune teller, enigmatic and unfathomable. Her navy dress fell to her feet, silky and slender, strapless and sleek, her arms decorated in zodiac tattoos. Gasps and mummers were heard from the women in the audience judging her on her revealing arms and corset with no bodice or flower trimmings. She sat on a candle lit stage, the smoke she wisped between her fingers; it took the shape of an ox, and then shaped into two fish swimming in concentric circles. The cold wind soared and drove out the candles, plunging the stage into darkness.
The men eagerly stared at her with no such complaints. Her exotic eyes enchanted them, her blue iridescent hair made them hot, her smile made their throats dry. She kneeled down to one man, her open hair cascading over her bare shoulders as she whispered in his ear, gliding her fingernails lightly over his jaw line and neck. A shriek was heard from his wife, she swiftly grasped his wrist and tore them apart. Flirting cancelled, they reluctantly moved on. The children lost interest in her and ran to the next attraction, all under the watchful gaze of the Ringleader. Every now and then he would glance darkly at his heavy caravan looming at the back of the carnival site.
The parents paid more attention to pulling and tugging at their children keeping them at their best rather than the freaks. “Don’t dirty your riding boots! They cost money!” “Edger, stop running you’re messing your hair!” “Maggie! You’re covering your new dress in sugar! Aunty Jean will be furious!” the icy gust pushed it way through the crowd hard and rough almost knocking the audience off their feet. A mother yelled while holding down her skirt “Oh this wind will be the death of us!”
The Ringleader watched every move before hearing a loud sucking nose. Turning round he looked down upon a young child lapping at Edwardian Mint Rocks while she stared up delightedly at him. His smile widened as he stared back and kneeled down to her taking in every last detail. Her faded pink sweet dress, a ruffled white bonnet with a sugar white bow, and a gleaming parasol she twirled in her lace white gloves. He touched her cheek lightly, feeling the softness of her skin, and smelt her heavy mint breath. His expression was gleamingly cheerful as he titled his head.
“Hello little one” He moved his hand slowly up to her thick blond ringlets “Are you enjoying the show?” While licking the access sugar from her fingers she nodded “Would you like to stay here forever my lovely?” He asked leaning in closer to her “With me and my fellow freaks?”
“Merida get away from that horrid man!” Her mother yelled, grabbing her daughter roughly by her hand and took her from the Ringleader. He smirked to himself and ran a finger under his chin before picking up his pocket watch again. “My sincerest apologies Madam!” He called after her “I did not mean to offend” She merely huffed and stormed away with her child. Merida soon ran with her mother to a gathering crowd round the caged unfortunates.
A young man sat on the cold floor of his prison, his neck twisted awkwardly causing his head to tilt drastically to one side, his mouth wide open, a puddle of his drool had formed beside him, and onto the shoulder of his shirt. His hands were curled inwards revealing the absence of many of his fingers, the same condition had affected his toes and feet. Beside him, but in a separate cage the snake boy hissed round, slithering through the crowd allowing them to admire and stroke his colourful scales. He lashed out his forked tongue at some, causing the crowd to cry in alarm and bounce back.
A fire dancer skillfully danced round the fire, commanding and manipulating it into shapes and illusions that enveloped her, the flames licking over her exposed stomach and skin like an excited puppy. Her costume of shiny silver caught the light of the fire; she looked like a dancing flame herself. Only she wasn’t just a dancing flame, no one failed to see the other feature to her performance. Juggling fireballs and torches over eight at a time was aided by two extra arms thrusting out from the armpits. They were longer than the others with entwining bone like fingers; they could reach far behind her, catching anything she threw over her shoulders. The parents recoiled in horror at the grotesque unnatural movement of these arms. Her black wavy hair and Indian skin showed her to be the living reincarnation of Vishnu, the Hindu God with four arms, so her advertising banner claimed.
Children stared like gaping gold fish, their ice cream slowly dripping off the cone on their hands. As everyone stared enraptured, no one noticed the other freaks, slyly following the crows close behind, hiding nets and sacks discreetly behind their backs.
As the exhibits came to an end and the performers glanced at each other nervously, the dwarves handed each of the adults a drink. The children still ran tirelessly round the now dying fire, the clouds shielded the moon from the terrible things that were about to happen. The smile from the Ringleader had now disappeared and was replaced by a stony face; his eyes dared this way and that from the children, to the parents, and to the performers. Again, he glanced at his large dark caravan standing behind him, the wind once again soared in from behind, and he felt a familiar feeling.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming to look upon my freaks to admire their monstrous imperfection. Indelicate as they may be they are all glad that you have come. Let us drink a toast to the wonders of the Freak Show!” he called “May you sleep well tonight” he added under his breath. With that they all raised their cups and took a sip. One of the men looked round with a frown on his face “You carni-folk not joining in with the drinks?” No one replied, and the Ringleader slowly laughed with pleasure. He rubbed his lips and chin with his fingers, staring up at the ceiling of the tent as he heard coughing and choking, and the little shrieks of children. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes and clasped his fingers together humming softly to himself.
The Ringleader sat crossed legged on the bed in his caravan, his hands in front of his mouth as if he was praying. His top hat and tailed coat hung up neatly in his closet, his ice eyes glared in admiration and wonder over his collection of porcelain dolls, the beauty of each unique face shone back at him. The delicate feature of each doll was preserved in their making, their hair was carefully combed and arranged, the clothes were smooth and little faces held the memory of the child they once were. Gracefully he tapped his fingers together to a slow rhythm “Oh my innocent ones, there can be no shame with you, no shame, you move my heart in many ways and shield me from the disgrace that is of my freakish nature” Tilting his head to one side he looked down at an unfinished doll in front of him. He placed it gently on his lap, and started to hum the tune of ‘A Ring of Roses’.
“A-tish-oo, a-tish-oo. We all fall down”
With his skillful hand he the locks of blonde hair with needle and thread and sewed it into the holes of the porcelain skull. After twisting the hair into tight ringlets he proceeded to paint her glass eyes blue, and glued them into the eye sockets and dusted her cheeks with a little blush. Measuring out the trimming perfectly he progressed to stitching a bonnet for the little doll, pink with white trimming to match her dress. After dressing the doll he held her like a baby and kisses her forehead “Little Merida” He whispered to her “Now you are here to stay with me and my fellow freaks forever” He put her on the shelf and placed in her hand her parasol. He smiled proudly, and examining her to rest of his collection of children. Reaching into the pocket of his new gold embroidered vest, though faint red stains were lurking in the lapels, he took out Edwardian Mint Rock, placed it on his tongue and smiled charmingly.