The Circus Reaper

He was here. I knew he was.

I had memorized his face, the dark endless pit in his eyes as he stared into my soul, teeth biting down on his lower lip, slowly making his way towards the concession stand where I stood. He had been rather handsome with his perfectly proportioned face, sharp cheekbones, and light stubble dotting his jaw, his deep voice startling me as he picked up a conversation with the worker with the long white apron who fiddled with the large popcorn machine.

He had handed me the popcorn, catching me by surprise, his dark hair softly brushing the end of his brow as his eyes bored into mine. We conversed for a while, his light and gentle tone almost inviting. He listened quietly as I spoke, waving my hands, glad I had found a person who finally found even the slightest interest in sparking a conversation with me in the large circus. We ended up sitting in his car as the sun slowly went down, bringing the first day of the large carnival to a rather happy close, the loud singing and ringing of bells faintly tingling in my ears as I finished the latest bag of popcorn he had generously bought me. 

And then, he laughed, a quite merry sound if it hadn’t been for his hands reaching up and pulling off his hair, revealing pale blond hair below.

I remembered screaming. He was no normal man.

He was the wanted circus serial killer.

The Circus Reaper.

In the past three years, the young man had brutally murdered thirty-seven young women, all with long blond hair and all around the same age as me.

And I was his next target.

I had tried my best to hide my golden hair under a large hat, tying it into a tight bun that tugged painfully at my hairline to stay out of sight. But the disguise had failed.

I remembered screaming and shouting for help, my heart dropping to the very pits of my stomach. 

I knew I was dead.

But it had been the smallest mistake that The Circus Reaper had made that cost him. Kicking at the unlocked door, I tumbled out and fell to the dusty side of the road. I had watched him drive away, not bothering to stop his truck and drag me back once more.

I was given another chance. And I wasn’t going to just throw it away.

The Sam and Sally Carnival came every month at the edge of town and brought their large parade of rides along with them, setting around their given land, the loud singing and fire from their camp a comfortable and welcoming scene from afar. But ever since the killings, the stream of customers had quickly dwindled, children hardly in sight. It had been almost six months without the news of a new murder, the townspeople gathering outside The Sam and Sally fair, tickets in one hand, and excited toddlers in the other to celebrate. I had finally convinced my best friends Laura and Aiden to join me on the trip to the edge of town to participate in the many rides for the first time.

But now, I was lost, my bag left in The Circus Reapers truck as I walked down the deserted paths through the carnival, the lights slowly trickling away from their carts as everyone prepared for the late-night show.

I knew I had to be there.

I would be far away from the horrors outside and near the small bustling crowd of people eagerly waiting for the show to begin, large bags of popcorns tucked under their arms. The late-night show seemed to be taking place in the wide orange and yellow striped tent in the center of the huge camp, the words ‘show’ in bright neon colors blinking in the dark, large yellow lights running down the poles that held up the sign. Beside it was a parked trailer, its green paint peeling off as it balanced a large box on its roof.

I shuddered, bringing my grey sweater closer around my body, my hat long lost and hair tumbling messily down my shoulders as I reached for the rather small flap, peering inside, fingers shaking.

I was pushed in by a large body behind me, heart climbing to my throat as I rushed inside as quickly as I could and standing in the corner of the tent, met with a bustling crew. It seemed as if I had walked into the back tent where they prepped for their show. Two large clowns dressed in balloon suits sat in front of a low dusty mirror, lightbulbs decorating its sides as they dabbed makeup onto their skin, making atrocious faces as they did so. A large array of costumes hung in a long rack beside me, all sorts of clothes with different colors decorating the hangers.

One of the clowns caught my eye, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he pulled off his large red nose and turned to someone beside him, “MARGARET! We have a lost clown!”

My eyes widened as I ran for the door and felt strong hands grab me by my arms instead. 

“Ah! Aren’t you a pretty one?” The lady named Margaret asked as she turned me around, examining my face with a wide grin on her face. 

“I...I don’t work-”

“You’re new here?” She demanded with a strong Russian accent, eyes falling to the costumes behind us. “You are new here, aren’t you?”

I frowned, swallowing, “I don’t-”

“Alright, alright. Kevon! Do her makeup!” Margaret pushed her towards the clown who’d called for her, disappearing behind a large rack of clothes. “We have twenty minutes! Chop chop!”

I tried shaking off his hands as he seated me in front of one of the large mirrors, poking my skin with the many cosmetics, grabbing my chin, and forcing me to look at him.

“What’s your name, sexy?” He wiggled his eyebrows, patting down a dusty foundation pad onto my clear skin. “What brings you here?”

“I don’t even work here!” I hissed, still fighting with his hands. “What the hell is this-”

“It’s setting powder for the first layer,” he explained, eyes narrowing as he reached for another bottle. “Try to relax your face.”

“Relax my face? Let me go!”

“Sh!” He whispered. “The crowd is going to hear us!”

I stopped fighting.

Perhaps, this was my second chance. Maybe, this was what was meant to happen. It could be to protect me from the murderer.

To keep me safe.

This would be my new disguise.

Kevon prepared me for their show, pulling back my hair and setting a large red wig on top of my head, fluffing it, and turning my face to the mirror to let me have a look. 

And then he was tugging me to the curtains that stood in the front, handing me clothes to try to see whether they’d fit.

Most didn’t.

It had been almost five minutes past the show start time and they finally managed to find me a large flappy suit with a tight barbie doll waist and long freezy sleeves. The suit was covered in red and white polka dots, making the large red ball on my nose look slightly less psychotic.

I no longer looked like myself.

I didn’t have time to ask Kevon what we were supposed to do on stage, still quite lost as they lined us up and pushed us into the center all lights pointed at us, the long array of red chairs around us dark and full of an anticipated crowd. The ring we stood on was huge, the light blinding my eyes as I turned to the audience, my body threatening to faint.

I can do this.

The song started almost abruptly, sharp notes blowing out of the small black speakers. Kevon grabbed my arms, linking them along with the other clowns, and kicked up his feet, following the fast notes. I followed, planting a large smile on my face, my heart beating louder and louder inside my chest.

We kicked and jumped, prancing around as the crowd cheered, doing small moves here and there. I watched the other side across the ring, following their moves as Kevon criticized my horrible dancing under his breath.

I had warned him.

I almost slipped over the hay-covered floor as the clowns began to pull out balls from nowhere and began to juggle, throwing up one ball after another as they moved their feet along with the song.

I stood there, almost stupidly, watching them.

And then it happened.

The flaps of the front of the tent opened wide and my nightmare walked right inside, his wig back in place, his eyes searching the area with sharp eyes.

He did not look so handsome anymore.

I had to do something. I had to start dancing. I had to move.

And so I did.

As all the clowns juggled, I stepped to the front and did the first dance moves that came to my mind. I moved my arms along with the quick pace of the song, tapping with my feet, head screaming as tears threatened to roll down my cheeks and spoil my makeup.

What the hell was I doing?

As the pace of the song got quicker, the balls the clowns juggled increased. My muscles slowly began to tire as I followed the pace, moving as fast as I could, my mind swirling in a storm as memories of my dance class during freshman year in high school wafted over to me, the words of my teacher echoing inside my mind.

“Be confident,” she’d say. “Act like you know what you’re doing, even if you’re dying inside.”

I was dying inside.

But if I didn’t step up my dancing skills, The Circus Reaper would know exactly who I was.

I had to get out of here.

The Circus Reaper seated himself on the first row, fingers interlaced in his lap as his eyes scanned the show, gaze smoothly passing me, almost without a thought.

Was I doing it? Was I succeeding?

The song came to a sudden halt, catching me in surprise as I froze, hands slapping by my sides, a shaky smile on my face. I hesitated, forcing myself not to turn around and check whether the other clowns had left the ring, keeping my feet planted where they were.

“You!” The ringleader pointed at The Circus Reaper. “Tell us, what is it that you loathe the most?”

The Circus Reaper’s lips turned up into a rather amused smile as he said, “blond barbie dolls.”

“You and me both!” The ringleader cackled. “You and me both!”

The crowd cheered.

“You!” He pointed at a small boy. “Tell me, what is your worst nightmare?”

The boy fidgeted, playing with his fingers as he said, “fire.”

The ringleader gasped dramatically, “fire? How could you be scared of fire?”

“It burns.” The boy said, turning back to his mother.

The crowd cheered once more.

“Sorry lad,” the ringleader announced, “but you’re out of luck! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the...FIRE SHOW!”

The crowd burst into a loud cheer, screaming and hooting, whistling with their mouths as they clapped.

I was shaking.

New performers entered the ring, dressed in tight red costumes head to toe, tall white wigs covering the top of their heads as they juggled fire sticks in their hands.

Why was I still standing there?

Before I could move, they began to circle me, wide grins on their faces as they moved, a new song bursting through the speakers. I waved, widening my grin and walking backward, praying with my entire soul that the performers juggling behind me would let me through.

They stopped, allowing me to slip out from the circle, eyes accidentally looking up and meeting cold black ones.

The Circus Reaper.

I ran.

I turned, rushing back through the large red flaps, fighting to breathe. I gripped the nearest table, gasping and collapsing to the floor.

“Hey, you!” Kevon called, peeling off his wig. “You were great-”

“Give me your phone.” I rasped, forcing myself to my feet. “Hurry.”

I didn’t bother taking off my disguise nor looking inside the mirror to make sure my wig was still properly on my head. Instead, I snatched Kevon’s phone almost hungrily, fingers shaking as I made two calls.

I had to make it back home.

I made for the flaps of the tent.

I ran out the back of the tent, the pants of the suit allowing me to rush quickly past the many small tents and closed rides, workers bustling around as they closed the circus for the day.

No one bothered to stop a fleeing girl in a large clown nose and a flying wig.

And I didn’t bother to stop.

I ran and ran, my disguise slowly falling apart.

But I still did not stop.

I had been given a second chance and I wasn’t going to let it go. I was still lost, running through the darkness almost blindly. But anywhere was better than with The Circus Reaper and his soulless black eyes.

For the chance to live, I did not stop.

I ran.