Lost and Found

Something about this morning is different. I can't quite place it.

I push myself up from the damp forest floor and brush off the twigs and dirt that had stuck to me overnight.

I'm used to this whole sleeping outside thing, and I hate that.

The crisp, early morning air kisses my cheeks and I breath in deeply. But the fresh scent of pine needles is rudely interrupted by the sour smell of body odor.

I groan as I furiously comb out the long, straight orange tangles from my hair.

Somehow, I was going to have to find a place to wash up soon.

There was a nearby creek, but that had been filed as my last resort. Nothing about bathing outdoors appealed to me.

I pick up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, and I started through the trees.

I'm off to discover the disturbance in my otherwise serene morning.

Nothing woke me up, there was no loud crash, no scent of smoke, no taste of bile in my mouth.

It was rather a feeling.

All my hairs had stood on end, electrified, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

This was my first hint that something was wrong.

I had no others, but I was determined to find something. Something to change the rotten life I've had so far.

There are no benefits to being homeless, no benefits to having no family, no money, no food.

It's difficult to get used to, but I have. It's difficult, coming from a place where I had everything. But I've made due with my means.

I'm not dead yet, right?

I let a puff of cold morning air escape my lips. I can see my breath. It's never like this for long. Soon the sun will awake, and the forest will turn vibrant colors again, instead of this dark painting I see now.

Though as I travel onwards, I notice that my painting has become flawed. There is a drop of canary yellow among the dark green and blacks of the early morning.

The moon was the only source of light, but now this artificial yellow shines through.

I creep closer, but stay tucked into the trees.

I've always been good at playing hide and seek, my mother had always told me so when I was a little girl, but I guess that was her job. She was my mother.

I push memories of my past away and focus on the present.

Men are moving equipment into place, and big tents are being set up. I see animals with their trainers practicing, and women with sparkly costumes prancing about like the flock of fanciful birds they were dressed as.

I used to come to the circus with my mother when I was little, not often, but once or twice.

I roll my eyes. The circus was so... unrefined. It reminded me of myself in a way.

I have mixed feelings about this circus. I have mixed feelings about myself. We all love and hate portions of ourselves, don't we?

I cringe as the shouts and guffaws of the men grow louder- this reminds me so much of the city, I always belonged there- some of them are pointing.

Then I realize exactly where they are pointing.

The forest.

Me.

No one can know I'm here. I don't want them to.

I turn and run, and the shouts grow quieter. They won't chase me. For now, I'm free from the prying eyes of the men. I am free of the judging onlookers. I'm safe.

—

It's almost sunset, and the music has grown louder, and the shouts of little children do as well. the circus is filling. The festivities beginning. Soon there will be unwanted guests in my forests.

It's only a week. I tell myself. Then they will be gone, and you can go back to living the same monotonous day, over and over and over again.

The same.

Monotonous.

Day.

I groan into the forest floor, my makeshift bed.

I am going to get about zero sleep this week.

I sit up. I know it would be fruitless to try sleep for any longer. Maybe I will go see what makes all the kids scream with delight and clap their hands.

There I would just be another person among many. No one would look for me at a circus. What criminal would be enjoying such festivities while in hiding?

This one.

I slip between trees and slide down the hill to the edge of the circus, where I squeeze between the thick canvas of the vividly striped tents.

I am pushed into a crowd of people all shoving their way into a tent. I don't know where I am, and my hands start to shake. This was a stupid idea.

Now I'm traveling with the current, stuck in the riptide as it sweeps me under the flap and onto a hard bench.

All the lights shut off except one.

A man stepped into the center, his coat bright scarlet, embellished with golden buttons lining the edges.

The velvet looks soft, and I wish I could have had the forethought to have stolen something like that before leaving the city. I bet it would have held up better than what I have on currently.

I let my orange hair fall in front of my face, like a curtain, shielding me from onlookers; but no one's eyes are on me, rather the man in the center stage.

He shouts something to the crowd, and they roar back joyously, while I bring my knees up to my chest and hug them.

I can't.

I must pull myself out of the tide. I swim sideways.

I rush out from under the tent and into the night air. The clean, mountain air I'm used to breathing is contaminated. The smell of cigars and perfume on the wind. Goodbye pine needles and dirt.

But regardless, this feels like home. We all get used to something for so long and assume that is where we belong, that is who we are. But it doesn't have to be that way. I feel alive here, but I also feel dead. I feel a rush of excitement, but I also feel a pit of dread.

In nature I have always been out of place. I have always been unnatural; in the sea of brunettes, I was the red algae.

I've always looked different then I should have.

I've always acted less than a lady.

These people here, not the customers, but the workers, they were my people. The oddities of our world banned together to create entertainment.

I'm a thief, thats how I make a living. I know sleight of hand. I can roll a coin across my knuckles better than most men, I can sweet talk you and steal your pocket-watch all at the same time. There are some benefits to being a female thief.

No-one suspects me as the perpetrator.

I run through the tangles of pathways between tents and animals and food vendors. There is no way out. I'm lost.

Then tents feel like they are getting closer together, but I know thats ridiculous. Then again, the circus always boasted of their magic, maybe this is one of their tricks.

I can't breathe. I close my eyes and clutch the sides of my head. It's all darkness. A Black, empty sea, the tempest tossing and turning.

And then I hear my light in the dark. The woman's voice like a life raft, lifting me up out of the consuming waves.

"Sweetie," a bird woman coos. "Are you lost?"

I nod without speaking.

"Where are your parents?"

"I have none." I say, avoiding her gaze. If I could put a descriptive word to go with my tone, I would say despair, but even that doesn't cover the hopelessness I feel.

"Are you an orphan then? Where is your master?"

"I'm a thief."

She lets out a small gasp and backs away, her hand going to a hidden pocket. "What have you stolen? Give it back and I'll let you go."

"I've stolen nothing."

"Thieves often lie." She says, moving her hand away from the pocket to stroke a feather attached to her costume. She raises an eyebrow and her one changes.

"That much is true, but I swear I'm being honest. I—" I glance around looking for a better excuse then I have, which is none.

Until I notice a sign posted on the side of a crate.

Three meals a day, 365.

Join the circus!

Board and Pay!

Offer your skills today!

"I've come to offer my skills."

She nods, understanding, but still wary. "Right this way."

—

I exit the ringmaster's personal tent, and in my hands I hold our contract.

I'm to start as a magician in the next town.

I have a place to stay. A place I know I will belong.

A place to begin again.

I'm no longer lost.

It seems for the first time since my mother's games of hide and seek with my younger self, that I've been found.