Hi there! You are currently browsing as a guest. Why not create an account? Then you get less ads, can thank creators, post feedback, keep a list of your favourites, and more!
Test Subject
Original Poster
#1 Old 19th Oct 2007 at 6:31 PM
Default My short story about a circus.
Here's m story, which I used for my english coursework. Criticism warmly welcomed. Enjoy! (or not) Make sure to tell me why!

I never stopped wearing masks. I didn’t wear that mask anymore: the onyx one encrusted with diamonds; the one my foster parents gave me when I became a man and the one that partly ruined my life, but also partly saved it. No, I kept it in a box under my bed, hidden deep into the dark folds of my room, where it was isolated from the rest of the world. I have eight new masks to replace that one, one for everyday of the week and another for special occasions. They could never exceed the quality of the original, but they suited me just fine.

I wore masks because of my face. A dreadful “accident” with the queen and a pan of boiling water rendered my face horrifically scarred. I thank the stars every night that the water conveniently burned the parts of my face which could be concealed with an eye mask. That incident gave me the hunger for revenge, and as one thing led to another, I found myself fleeing to the circus to avoid most certain death and “Lady Charlotte” (the town guillotine).

Two days after my arrival at Burney’s Circus I finally met the ringmaster. I waited for him impatiently inside the big top, accompanied by a talkative acrobat named Lawrence, who favoured himself as my best friend. He was quite annoying to be truthful. I looked glumly about the desolate circus ring, a great wave of loneliness washed over me. The stands were empty apart from bits of rubbish left abandoned on the seats and the stale smell of last week’s popcorn hung in the air. The ghostly, chilly atmosphere of the big top was not something I had previously been familiar with and it made me feel isolated, out of place and depressed. I stood shivering, barely listening to Lawrence chatting on about nothing in particular, and wishing that I was somewhere else.

After what seemed an age, Mr Burney made his appearance. My expectations had been that he was a tall, thin gentleman with a skinny moustache that hovered neatly above his upper lip. He was to be middle-aged with an expensive velvet black cape that danced about his ankles as he strode proudly towards me. He was no such fellow. He was short and plump with frayed and faded blue clothing, greying hair tucked underneath a top hat, with a bushy moustache to match. My heart sank with childish disappointment. He seemed so… ordinary.

When he was close to me, his eyes wandered from my scuffed shoes up to the tips of my hair, and then settled on to my face.

“So… Lawrence,” he said in a deep, but gentle, tone. “This is the boy you were telling me about?”

“Yes,” the acrobat replied with enthusiasm. “He appeared just two days ago. He has weak bones, and he is probably not very funny, but he has a certain flair to him, do you not think? He would fit in as a popcorn vendor in my opinion.”

I, for one, was offended.

“No, no, no. We have far too many popcorn vendors here at the moment. But you are right, he does have something about him.” Mr Burney turned toward me. “What is your name, son?”

“Jack,” I said in reply. “Jack Masquerade.”

“Rather odd surname…”

“Fortunately for you, it is not your name to bear,” I said defensively.

“True. Oh, what a coincidence! Your name is Masquerade and you wear a mask! Why is that?”

“Why is that important to you? There are some details that are so dark that they must be hidden by something light-hearted. It is best to leave them be.”

“You have an answer for everything, my boy!” He laughed.

“People always told me that I had a fast tongue and a sharp mind. They also used to say that they are constantly tripping over each other because they are too quick to be sensible.”

He laughed again. “Is that so? You remind me of myself at your age. How old are you, my dear?”

“Just twenty one years, although I do not act like I am.”

“A good age…”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lawrence said suddenly. “But time is of the essence, and we need to find him a job quickly.”

“Oh yes, that…” the ringmaster paused. “He appears rather inept at most things at the moment.”

“I cannot believe you will slight me when I am right beside you,” I frowned.

The two men decided to ignore me and delved deep into discussion.

“What about a lion tamer?” Lawrence suggested. “We definitely need another one.”

“Is that not a tad risky? Considering his lack of experience, and you know… last time.”

“Mr Burney, you know as well as I do that George was hardly professional. The,” he coughed, “attack was inevitable.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“The lions were indeed very popular,” said the ringmaster pensively. “Yes! A lion tamer you shall be, Mr Masquerade!”

“This is unacceptable! This is illegal! This is… I will be dead in seconds!” I argued.

The ringmaster sighed regretfully. “It is either a lion tamer or the streets for you, I am afraid.”

I paused for a moment to consider my options. I did not have any.

“I will oblige to your request,” I answered finally. “But you should not think that I will accept gracefully.”

“I am most confident that you will behave like an adult when Gerrárd and myself see fit.”

“Who, dare I ask, is Gerrárd?“

“Why, Gerrárd is your new colleague, your new underling and your new business partner!”

“Gerrárd is the lion?” I said weakly. I felt my heart sink as I realised that this situation was painfully real and not some terribly ill-humoured joke.

“I believe this is the perfect time for you two to be acquainted. Follow me.”

We walked through the busy circus grounds: past desolate iron cages and colourful residential tents; greeting contortionists with their elastic bones, sour faced clowns with painted red smiles and uppity magicians that were dressed from head to toe in flamboyant clothing; and laughing at determined monkeys as they endeavoured to ride upon their tricycles. The pandemonium that surrounded me was more than my senses could bear, and I felt the seesaw of my sanity tip over the edge. I could feel the deafening sounds of instruments clashing and conversation buzzing smothering my forehead and ears, bringing the mounting tension and anxiousness of my fretful mind raising higher and higher. Everything was telling me to turn away and run, from my own frantic thoughts to the desperate trees which brushed my arm with their branches as I passed them. My terrified heart leaped and twirled like an acrobat on his trapeze, gaining more agility the closer I was to the lion’s tent.

Thousands of questions raced through my mind. What if I get attacked? Savaged alive? Eaten? What if the ringmaster is crazy and he is feeding me to the lion on purpose? Should I run? Should I hit him? Should I risk “Lady Charlotte” instead? I felt my head burn.

“Here we are,” said the ringmaster. I detected nervousness in his voice, even more doubt and fear plagued my mind.

He went in first, and then I followed reluctantly behind. The tent was dimly lit by half-hearted oil lamps, which cast a murky glow upon the blood-red tarpaulin walls. Instantly my eyes flicked towards the vast iron cage in the corner, which was connected to what seemed to be a miniature circus ring, where a golden, sleeping mass lay. Even in the bleak lighting, Gerrárd looked stunning. I had never seen an animal quite like him before, with his coat that was fit for royalty, his impressive, shaggy mane and his square, handsome face. I was so absorbed in staring at him that I did not realise that a figure was standing beside his cage. I could tell the person was short, thin and that he or she was looking at me.

“I am guessing that this poor man is our new tamer,” she said, for her voice sounded feminine. (Although, this was the circus, I could easily have been mistaken.)

She stepped into the light, her blonde curls bouncing as she did so. She had the perfect, dainty face of a porcelain doll, and her beautiful mane of hair was pushed back femininely with a delicate white hair band. Looking at her, I was strongly reminded of the fantastic and distressing beast locked in the cage behind her. I felt myself cast an involuntary scowl her way, she noticed this and retaliated with a severe narrow of her eyes.

“Your guess is accurate, my dear,” the ringmaster replied. “Oh! Where have my manners fled to? Mr Masquerade, this is my beloved daughter, Regina. She is the finest animal trainer in all the world, and she could teach you a thing or two, if you are kind to her. She only deals with smaller animals, I am sorry to tell you. Regina, this is Jack Masquerade, our newest circus member and our new lion tamer.”

“What have you got to hide, Jack?” She eyed the mask over my eyes critically.

I wanted to ignore her, but I knew that was simply not an option.

“I thought it would be for the best. I do not want the audience to see my eyes reflect fear when Gerrárd eats me alive.”

The ringmaster clapped his hands twice. “Now, now, let us not waste time. There are only two weeks until the first performance, and I need a lion tamer by then!”

I swallowed anxiously. “So… what do I have to do?”

Regina moved closer to me and focused her eyes on to mine. “The relationship between a lion and its tamer are purely psychological. As long as the tamer can establish that the ring is his territory, and he will do this by snapping his whip and stomping around, the lion will believe that he is the alpha-male. This means that the lion will find you socially superior and do what you want. However, if you mess it up, the lion will be terribly confused about where it stands socially, and attack. For your sake and the circus’ reputation, you had better succeed Jack.”

“I will not fail,” I said. My heart was thumping louder and faster than a torrential storm in the summertime.

“Well, let us get started,” the ringmaster said with something that might have been enthusiasm, and then he pointed towards the portable circus ring in the corner. It was quite small, with a low, adequate fence that ran around it and it was connected to the door of Gerrárd’s cage.

“Here you go, you will need this,” Regina said coldly, handing me a whip. I eyed it distastefully and took it. “Go in the ring, and snap the whip all the way around it so Gerrárd can see that you own it.”

With the ringmaster’s and Regina’s eyes boring into me, I hopped over the little fence and into the ring. My body almost paralysed in fear, I cracked the whip once. Gerrárd opened one of his golden eyes. I did it again. The other eye opened. And again. He rose to his feet shakily. And again. Wide awake, the beast let out a magnificent, ground-shattering roar. I almost collapsed to the ground in a heap. Fortunately, I was able to gather some composure before doing so. I glared defiantly into his eyes, with my feet spread apart in what should have looked like a threatening stance. His ears flattened, and he emitted a low growl from within the depths of his throat.

“You are doing well,” the ringmaster said. “Keep it up!”

“Circle the ring!” Regina advised.

I followed her instructions: snapping the whip, marching confidently, keeping eye contact with the great cat. This was not as bad as I had feared, in fact, it was easy. I smiled a little, whilst my head swelled at the wonderful, boastful thoughts that swam into my brain.

“Good. It is time for Gerrárd to enter the ring now,” said Regina. “You had better not be getting uppity about what you have done so far, any coward can snap a whip at a caged lion. Go and open the door.”

She tossed the key over to me. Unfortunately, my physical incompetence kicked in, and I failed to catch it; it landed pathetically at my feet. Regina cackled at me, and the ringmaster chuckled. I picked it up with my head bowed in utter shame.

All of a sudden, my heart rate started to raise, my head began to pound and my muscles lost all feeling. I was going to open the cage. There was a lion in that cage. It was larger, heavier and faster than me. It had teeth and claws that could literally snap me in half in four seconds. Despite this, I knew I had to unlock that rusty, greasy, iron door and unleash that hideous, violent beast into the world.

My hand, gripping the key, extended to the door with more shivers and shakes than a fevered dog. My attempts to insert it into the lock were hit and miss, and it seemed like an age had passed when I finally managed to unlock the door.

It slowly slid open, being almost as dramatic as a woman who had pretended to faint into a particularly handsome gentleman’s arms. As soon as it had, I recoiled backwards with a little jump, and snapped the whip offensively. Agitated, Gerrárd stepped out reluctantly and then stalked the edges of the ring with his tail between his legs. I had actually succeeded in taming Gerrárd for today, and maybe I would have impressed the ringmaster and his daughter, if it had not been for human instinct. I could not help but shiver as I regarded the lion, and I felt my eyes waver and my body turn. My fear had overcome my willpower, I am afraid to tell you, and I felt it pull at every fibre of my being until I was flailing away from Gerrárd and toward the nearest exit. Instantly, the beast bellowed at me and lunged; I suppose I made him feel very insecure. I froze to the spot, I tried to make them move, but I might as well have been trying to shift a tree. I was so petrified that I could hardly think, feel, hear or see; all I knew was that my body was ready to self combust and my mind was losing all will to stay awake.

The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was Gerrárd soaring towards me and the yell of “You fool!” from Regina.
Advertisement
Instructor
#2 Old 19th Oct 2007 at 8:23 PM
Meep! Scary stuff. I love the idea, though, and... well, anything to do with the circus and masks is automatically awesome in my books. You're a great writer, it all flows very nicely. I noticed one mistake which I hope you don't mind me pointing out: Near the beginning, the ringmaster tells Jack "A ringmaster you shall be, Mr Masquerade!” - that should be liontamer, right? But apart from that, it was fantastic. Loved the ending, though it's sad - Jack seemed like a really cool character. Great work!
#3 Old 19th Oct 2007 at 8:46 PM
this is a pretty cool story i like the idea of jack maquerade
Test Subject
Original Poster
#4 Old 20th Oct 2007 at 8:52 AM
Thanks for the nice comments! Thank you Loco, for pointing that out. I must've confused myself (he actually becomes the ringmaster later on).

BTY. He doesn't die, the lion jumps over him. xD I hope to write this properly one day, but you may have noticed that I mentioned an earlier storyline, so it's actually going to be the sequel.
When I start writing the first one, I think I'll put it on here.
Back to top