The Meaning of the Clouds

* Content Warning: Abuse *

Someone behind me was lugging a large, pointed piece of wood. “Move ya big lump, this stupid decor ain’t easy to carry, jeez!”

I sidestepped the thing as it almost collided with my head. 

“Hey!”

He didn’t look back. I grasped my lapels and took a second to regain my composure. Then, I continued forward. 

I caught a glimpse of the set today. It looked like a carnival theme. Ironic. There was a bright, candy blue sky and slabs of wood painted like clouds. They swayed slightly, suspended by cords. 

An odd memory surfaced. My daddy’s face, I think. He was laying sprawled in the grass, totally relaxed. He was telling me something about clouds… how people like to look for meaning or pictures in them. I wasn’t sure what he had meant, though. These bulky white slabs looked like – forgive me – bulky white slabs.

I made my way through the labyrinth of people, thinking about the afternoon’s events. My wrists still stung and my eyelids were heavy. I rubbed them, distracted, and almost ran into the director. 

“Good gracious, Jeremy!” He put on a sudden, glamorous smile. “It’s okay, just take a breath.”

“Easy for you to say.” I sounded anxious even to myself. 

I hated this job.

I walked up to the edge of the hall, careful not to go too far. I stood there, struggling to steel my nerves.

I began to take in the scene, trying to remember everything. I was there for about ten seconds when the director's voice cut off my thoughts.

“That’s yer cue.”

I hesitated, wanting to ask him about the clouds dangling precariously over the floor, but –

“Just go, ya little coward!”

I felt a push from behind and stumbled onto the stage.

Shock poured through my body and my legs froze, totally numb. An image of a deer caught in the headlights suddenly flashed in my head.

This was different, of course. A car wasn’t about to crash into me. But the audience was staring. 

I shook my head slightly to clear it. Suddenly, I came back to my senses.

“Hello ladies, gentlemen, and guests,” I bowed my head slightly to welcome them. “What a lovely evening we have tonight.”

I rubbed my hands together, and felt the panic melting away. This was just a normal day at work.

“You’ll never believe what we have in store. But–” I wagged a finger at them, which retrieved a few chuckles. “I’m not going to give that away just yet. For now, I’d like to introduce the splendid youngsters that helped make tonight possible.”

I smiled as broadly as I could at the waiting audience, but my smile felt like a weight. It made my jaw ache.

I took a step back, and waved a hand dramatically backstage. 

A small girl, maybe seven or eight years old, came bounding out, curls bobbing with every step. She looked up at me, which made my smile a little more forced. Following her were two other children; both boys. 

The boys nodded, clearly ecstatic, making me cringe. Their excitement was disgusting to me. Children so young should not be here. 

But after the little girl held out her hand, I had to pass the microphone to them. 

“Hello everybody!” The three choroused into the mic. 

The girl was the model for our fliers. Her tight curls spiraled to her shoulders and a clean, red pinstripe dress floated to her baby blue shoes. She looked like the perfect child. I knew better, though. Her face was on posters, billboards, stickers, you name it. She was everywhere, and she was advertising for this place. She was far from angelic.

She spoke in a honey-sweet voice, “Y'all are in for a real treat today! Me and my brothers made sure everythin’ was all ready. Ain’t that right, Jeremy?”

She winked at me. I winced.

The audience cheered. I would’ve had to squint to see their faces behind the spotlights. But I didn’t want to see them.

I managed to pry the microphone out of the children’s tiny hands.

“Well then,” I swept a hand behind me, gesturing to the massive red velvet curtain. “I’m willing to bet that you all want to know what we’ve got in store here.”

The response was deafening.

“Alright, alright,” I waved my hands in a placating gesture. “Here we are…”

They gasped, and silence fell. 

Then, a roar cut through the stadium. Immediately, the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves.

To anyone else, the sound would be worrisome, but it wasn't really a roar. It wasn't predatorial; it was a cry of outrage. My anxiety was back; my legs becoming heavy and my thoughts slow. 

I remembered the advice given to me before stepping out, and took a deep breath. It felt like the only sound for miles.

“Ladies and gents, may I present to you the wonderful animals of our collection.”

On a large podium was a beautiful creature. It was the size of an elephant, but, well, not.

It’s claws almost reached the curtain, which was several feet away. It’s fangs glinted in the blinding lights, beady eyes stuck on either side of it’s head. The bushy eyebrows were glued too far above its eyes, making it look surprised. It’s – his – false expression gave the impression that he was happy, but standing on a too-small podium, the audience boring their eyes into him, it was clear; this animal did not want to be here. But he was surrounded by blue, buzzing wires. He couldn’t exactly walk away.

This was his reality. And mine. 

I bit my lip. “Here we have the majestic Osiris.”

The onlookers roared, and so did Osiris; returning their noise, but not their enthusiasm. 

“Today, we are going to attempt the impossible,” I paused, as rehearsed. I hushed my voice, hating everyone around me. I couldn’t forget to build suspense. “We are going to tame the beast!”

I almost choked on the words, ‘beast.’ To everyone backstage, that exclamation was a total joke. Under all that makeup and cardboard, the animal was a harmless… you know what? I’m not even sure what he was. I’ve never been allowed to know.

Still, he wasn’t so different from me. 

As I stepped cautiously toward him, I swallowed my fear. I was not afraid of him. I was afraid of… well, everyone else. 

The shock wire hummed loudly in my ears, and anger swelled up in my chest, surprising me. 

I made a quick tilt of my head, signaling backstage to cut the current in the fence. The whole auditorium fell silent. I slowly pulled back the wire gate, crept around to the front of the animal, and held out a fist.

He snuffed it, then, experimentally, tried to nibble on it. I yanked it back, and the audience rustled. 

Carefully, because he still might be jumpy, I ran my palm down his cheek and over the hidden scars. The crowd couldn't see the bloody cuts under his fur. They couldn't tell what he had gone through so they could be entertained for an hour. I continued stroking his face, hating how everything around us was fake. He made a throaty noise, telling me that he was ready. Still facing him, I made my way to the side of the animal, an –

“BLOOD!”

Someone from the audience screamed. My head jerked that way, but it didn’t matter who it was. I quickly patted Osiris’s flank, but he roared at a deafening level and whipped around to face me, surprisingly agile for the fake claws plastered to his feet.

The fence hummed to life, once again. The director had not forgotten that I was expendable, but I had. 

I tried not to lose it, but I was desperate. I could not face the audience to tell them to shut up, or Osiris could catch me with my back turned. No matter how much we liked each other, he was still an animal, and I was just a pest.

The spotlights snapped off, dousing us in darkness, and the next thing I knew, the curtain was closing. In a brief glance backwards, I saw the glint of metal in the dark, backstage. Even if I did make it out… I tried not to panic.

We were running out of time. I couldn’t run out; I would be electrocuted by the wire fence. 

“Osiris,” I said softly, which was almost definitely drowned out by the crowd. “Come on, buddy. It’s okay.” 

Against every bone in my body, I held out a fist once again, in total darkness. I felt a wet nose against my skin, and pulled it back. I reached out to slide my hand over his cheek, and made contact with the soft fur. It felt wet, too, like Osiris had been crying. I realized later that it was blood. 

“It’s all right,” I whispered, hardly believing that I was still in one piece. I made my way to his side, running my hand along him the whole time so he knew where I was. I found the weird, unnatural mane that was attached to his neck. I patted him quickly, and used it to pull myself up. He grunted unhappily. I’m sure it didn’t feel too good to have a full grown person on his back. 

The wire was still live. I waved towards the backstage managers, and I heard the curtains slide back open. 

And then, I flattened myself against his neck. I knotted his mane in my fingers and held it so tight that my knuckles turned white. He had sprung out of his cage, trampling the fence, almost flattening the audience, and then... I didn’t see the crowd. I couldn’t see the stage.

I looked left, and there were no curtains to hide my director, or the cruel instruments he used to ‘train his beasts.’ 

We had escaped.

My raw wrists stung in the wind, and Osiris’s ears were bleeding freely. We were scarred beyond belief beneath the facades and makeup, but I didn’t care. Osiris had been trained using fake claws, a fake face, and fake ferocity. But we had gotten out of that hellhole because of him. I had been trained using a fake name, fake showmanship, fake wealth… I could go on. We were both trained through pain.

They made me believe I had nothing. But I had learned from their mistakes: don’t give an animal claws if you don’t want him to use them. Don’t treat a person as a decoration. 

Even through my damaged eyes, I could see the sky. It was so real that I could hardly believe that I was right.

Again, I remembered how my Daddy told me about people looking for pictures in the clouds. I tried to see them, but I couldn't see people or animals in the shapes. I saw the colors. They weren’t fake, like so much of the paint and costumes in our previous home.

And then I saw the sun. It had the same brilliance but was so, so different from the spotlight. It was blinding, and it was gorgeous. 

And I knew that no prying eyes were hiding behind it, rooting for my failure. No audience was taking pleasure in my pain. 

The thought made me smile – the first true smile I had worn since I was told about the meaning of the clouds.

Later, we both washed off the paint and what was left of Osiris's disguise. Our cuts and bruises were in the open, but now they could finally heal. And after cleaning off my friend, I found out that he was an elephant.