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jolting awake from your soft bed. the sun greeting you through the few gaps of the curtains. your heart was calm and steady. compared to the night previous. even if it was for the fact that you were having the memories of the day before replaying in your mind. the scent of iron… the metallic tang of blood on your nostrils. the sound of things that you would not even hear in a time period such as this or outside of the horror genre. you slowly laid back on your bed. feeling the catatonic state of your being, from the emotional rollercoaster that was yesterday. you closed your eyes tightly. letting out a shaky breath that held a second too long. before slowly fluttering them opened, staring at the white ceiling. it was much warmer compared to when you woke up in the hospital. it was much kinder. it was not like the cold one where you had woken up, scared and alone. in between what was just a dream and what was reality… it was difficult months back then. and it still was. endless thoughts and shadows remain and lingers in every crevice of your mind. but it was a lot quieter… well it was a lot more quiet.

you slowly pushed yourself off your bed. your bedsheets were wrinkled. imprinting against your cheek, drool was evident in the corner of your lips. your dreams were nonexistent. your dreams were rather small in numbers. though each one was cherished. however, currently there were also no nightmares as well. even when nightmares was more in numbers compared to your dreams. remembering them was overwhelming. sickening. waking up in the morning was a struggle. a struggle to not run to the bathroom, to not expel the thoughts, the fears… every single thing that had your hands scrubbed to the point it was red and raw. or when you wake up in the morning to see nothing but bile in the toilet bowl because you could not eat the night previously. it was truly cumbersome and antagonising to your mental psyche. but you had to power through… somehow… some kind of way.

sitting there. in the comfort of your home. it had been weeks since you had return to your humble abode. spending weeks travelling brazil. searching for some semblance. and that you were able to finally had the confirmation that everything you lived was not some dream. that you had suffered but you had tried your best for them. that had made you the happiest… although… now… it was a different story all together. your eyes glanced down upon your hand. the memory of last night was still strong. it was steadying. perhaps the mental load and the onslaught of information was too much for your fragile mind to truly. you needed to write. make sense of the world in words and text than leave it festering in your mind. using what you had seen and facts right in front of you. with great effort, you had pushed yourself off the bed. still feeling vertigo as you moved and swayed towards the table. but settling down your desk. grabbing what loose pen or pencil laid sitting around. 

you continued to write. unaware of what changed in your room. you did not notice the random doodled hearts left in post it notes. it was tucked amongst your stationary. you did not notice the scent of the room had the lingering scent of something sweet, with some lingering metallic tang. a floral scent that lingered a little too long in certain spots in the room. like a ghost that continued to watch over you even when their presence had long gone for hours. you did not even notice a few insignificant items went missing. a charm. a pen. anything that would not ring alarm bells for you. there was even the scent that lingered in the kitchen. like it stayed there for a moment too long. like it was debating on wanting to make your day much easier for you to manage. like it was devoted to make even your morning less taxing and stressful. but thought against it.

because pierrot knew. he had played these games before. obsession after obsession. to search for them over and over again. it was years. over a century. and he still held onto a hope so strong that they would come back to them. it was all consuming. years of honing and understanding. he had learnt more to see. but to the others. it was saddening. to see one of their own spiral in the end. it was hard to reason with him when he got like this. it was worst when the realisation was that the person was not them at the end of the day. pierrot was never perfect. and the idea that the person he had devoted himself to was not them… it always broke something in him. and he went blank. by the time he came to, he did not remember anything but columbina trying to soothe him and the others cleaning up his mess. it was a viscous cycle… but this time… he was sure it was them. it had to be. even when harlequin kept reasoning with him. his oldest friend… while also the reasoning for why they had ended up in this situation… even when columbina tried to get them to reconcile. 

but even when the shadows lingered in the corner. concerned for your wellbeing, it knew it would have to part. yet with a simple distant chime of a bell. it had disappeared back to its host. but you had paused. turning towards the direction at the sudden noise. your eyes slowly blinked. wondering if it was just your imagination. bells? was someone outside your apartment or your neighbour ringing bells early in the morning. your eyes scanned your room, to your balcony. like something was going to jump and scare you. a minute. two. you finally turned away to return to the chaos that was you writing everything on a page. no rhyme. no timeline. nothing yet. organising it would come afterwards. you just need to spill everything first on the page without having to think of everything. so you did not miss some information that could possibly be missing because you were too focused on getting your facts straight. yes. it was nonsensical at times. seeing the scribbles in the margins and the moments of you expressing and spilling your emotions through the lined paper. 

then once you had written down lines upon lines, you stared at it long and hard. it was a mess of information. so you started to put it in order. slow and methodical. without the emotional quips and outbursts through random parts. precise. writing from the time you had woken up back in this time. then to your trip to brazil. then everything from the circus. about meeting ██████ in the blue tent. rather… intense reaction from the man in the suit and the top hat, ticket taker when he was referred to sapphire. rather… intense iconography that everyone seems to have for this person. just line by line. put in bullet point form. easy to read. easy to understand. straight facts and speculations. like who was who. what stories told you about each one. how… each and everyone behaved. from your observations. slowly stood up, finding your jacket. 

until you emptied the contents on the table. the cyan ticket. the smooth surfaces of stones that have become some palm stone to comfort you. a small comfort to rub between your fingers. until you paused. one stone was missing. your frowned a bit. started rooting through your pocket. the amethyst stone was missing. you stared at each one. counting over and over. one. two. three. four. five. but the sixth one was missing. when did you drop it? did you drop it in your haze last night? was it somewhere in the circus? realising you were going downhill of thoughts, ❝ breathe. ❞ you told yourself. inhale. exhale. you can always buy another one. panicking over one simple stone… you sighed softly. in the end of the day. it was not a simple stone. it was something that had represented them. closing your eyes tightly. with everything set in front of you in a simple format. you just knew. it was a matter of facing them. maybe some more to think. a quick drop to the cafe and go grocery shopping. it was too much for the early morning. 

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when pierrot returned back to the circus. there was the lingering scent of a human attached to him. like he had found another victim to his delusions. and harlequin watched with a frown on his face. after that talk the day before. he had been keeping an eye on his old friend… friend. he was not too sure if he could truly say that. a frown was evident on his mask. green eyes flickered, seeing how much calm and happier pierrot was… but that was on the physical side of things. he can see through pierrot. they were the first to have met one another. he had known pierrot the longest. and he can see. he can see the way pierrot was. and when all of them shared the same experiences with one another. harlequin had watched every one of them fall in bad habits. he was no saint or angel. he was aware. but that did not truly helped his case. guess that was the issue to even if you were self aware, chances are it did not stop unhealthy habits. 

but today, he was given the morning off. pierrot and columbina were the ones handling the flyers. and him? his day off. he did hand flyers out the day before with pierrot. just a small rotation. so he chose to leave. check the local stores that he had glanced by the day before. with a simple tug of his hoodie strings. smoothing down the beanie and a quick fix of the mask. and he was off. passing by the prim and proper ticket taker. a moment’s glance but just that quick glance told a load of information. return back before the circus opens. try to not be late. come back on time to prepare himself in his costume. yaddah yaddah. it was the same old order. in different cities. ❝ do not worry, bil. i will be back before you even know it. i do not want you to be too stressed. ❞ the sound was muffled behind the face mask. though the teasing lilt was there. 

but first. breakfast was… not as filling. from what his ears caught. there was a human that held the pink ticket yesterday but due to some circumstances, ticket taker had a horrendous time separating that human with a friend of theirs. the hum of the store, it was static and soft. however, harlequin was not to enjoy the rather white light that felt harsh to his eyes. he had stood in a cramp aisle. he had noted everyone, the humans all bundled up and so was he. tugging his beanie a little lower, but nothing too much that would shift the hoodie. feeling his horns jut out. his eyes scanned the shelves. searching for something he can snack. something to fill the belly that was still hungry. to trick it so that he would feel full. then he noted a bag. they were some chilli crackers. it would not be of his palette but there was a lack of spicy snacks and food in the shelves. so that would have to do. 

though there was only the last bag. just as he reached his gloved hand towards it. another hand shot out from the other side. just at the exact moment. harlequin’s fingers had stopped a few inches from the plastic. his eyes flickered over towards the other face. it was a human. someone unremarkable. a forgettable face. it was pleasant, he guessed. ❝ ah. sorry ❞ you had said. your hand slowly pulling away from the shelf. ❝ you were first ❞ you smiled meekly. he can see the way of your stance. stressed. and possibly hungry. ❝ yes, i was ❞ harlequin had spoke. quite dismissively. however, it was when you had shifted from one leg to the other. like you were adjusting some weight on your shoulders. and miraculously the air condition air carried a scent. which had harlequin paused and froze. it was pierrot. the scent of pierrot. which caused his hand around the plastic bag tightened. just as he stared at the human. really look at you. watching as you stared back with this awkward smile forming on your features. how your heart was fluttering. ❝ yes? are you okay? ❞ you finally asked.

but harlequin did not truly answer. his mind was already elsewhere. imagining, knowing. pierrot had probably hovered around, somewhere in this human’s home. watching and following. leaving marks that no normal human can truly detect. how pierrot’s scent was rubbed into their clothes. their body. it was recent. and all he could think was, ❛ again. ❜. and the word lingered in his mind like the scent ash after a fire breakout. and so he looked at you closer. trying to see what did pierrot see in this…. fake. wondering how pierrot could even dare think that this person holds a candle to them. this person in front of him, barely looked like they had worked a day in their life. they looked like they just threw whatever on. a jacket a size too big. a face that was too average, too ordinary. and all harlequin felt was a twitch of anger. because was this… who pierrot was comparing… to their beloved?

schooling his face. even though it was hidden behind layers. he had pulled the bag of chilli crackers. he watched how you smiled again. he wanted to turn and walk to the register. to ignore this human. but he did not want to actually leave. he needed to know. this delusion that pierrot had built. the acceptance that they were dead came to the others. but pierrot… he had stopped grieving and started looking. searching for someone that would match a memory. ❛ it is not them! ❜ he wanted to scream to pierrot. ❛ they are dead. they have been dead. and whatever this were… was not even a good copy ❜ everything was just wrong. though he forced a smile. ❝ how about we share? you look like you needed something like this ❞ he asked. he will strip every down, show pierrot that this dream and hope was just a lie. and that he needed to stop. 

like how he needed to stop.

and when you smiled at him, ❝ if that is fine with you ❞ you managed. he stared at you. wondering why his own heart jumped just now. for this imposter. they all loved them. someone mortal. someone who was caring. someone who just burned bright. yet died in a way that left nothing but ash on his tongue. it has been over a century. longer. and time had blurred the memories, it was hard to continue to grasp. and his… his memory was fading… fading on what they had sounded. how they laughed… just a face that he was not certain was theirs. 

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everything felt like it was closing down. everything around you was a blur. the ringing. the sound drowned the muttering and the excited gasps around. all you can hear was the drums of your heart beat. thump. thump. thump. it was all you can truly hear. your gaze was down upon your hand. it was sweaty. it was shaking. it was trembling. no. it wasn’t just your hands. it was your entire body. tremors that felt like you were being surrounded by a natural disaster. the lights in the tent. it felt too bright. bleary and fuzzy. it was dizzying. the realisation of everything came crashing down on you like a pile of bricks that was barely holding up the fragile foundation that was your fractured mental stability. your breath came out in huffs. everything was making sense. but at the same time, was also making things so much more complicated. everyone here. were they them? they were the ones you had searched for in a fog of uncertainty that you clawed through to obtain? they were still around. and that should have made you happy. it should make you excited. your hands fumbled to your pocket. running a thumb along a smooth surface that was a few rocks.

instead… it made you sick. they were still alive. they were… barely managing. going through the ever ending cycle of grief. the stories that you witnessed. the words. it all pointed to one thing. you were some catalyst. your death had resulted in pain in their lives. pain, longing… perhaps even anger. and you did not know how to handle the guilt that had overtaken your soul. like hands that gripped your heart. ❝ hey. let’s… let’s go… you have gotten paler ❞ your friend’s voice was like a shrill siren in your mental psyche. your friend wasn’t being loud. no. they were being soft spoken. but everything just felt louder now. every word. every laugh. every single noise. it was grating. loud. just absolutely painful. but you forced a smile. ❝ of… of course ❞ your voice held that shaky sensation that showed how much you were holding it barely together. just barely. 

it was already a struggle. walking. but you put your mind to it. one step at a time. left. right. left.. right… or right, left? walking was slowly feeling like a blur. a chore. even when you felt a minuscule load lightening your body… it was simply just not enough for you. as you walked alongside your friend. they were saying something. but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. none of it at all. you came to protect your friend, your coworker… only to uncover so much more than what you can emotionally handle. just as you walked. taking more steps. zoning out as your mind was going through reels of film of a life that was yours… yet at the same time, wasn’t. you lived through it. you experienced the laughter. the friendship. but at the end of the day… it was not your body. it was never your body. but they cared for you. they cared for you. in their own twisted way… but the stories. it felt terrifying. you were no saint. no angel. it was a pedestal that was so steeped. you felt fear clutch deep into your own insecurities. that you would not actually be what they had perceived of you. that you were entirely different… in appearance… hell… you have gone through hell and back.

it was when you had walked a little ahead. your friend called for you. for something. for what? ❝ oof- ❞ you bumped into a figure. stumbling backwards. until strong hands reached out and grasped your arm. saving you from falling over. ❝ i’m sorry— ❞ you paused. as you are met eye to eye. pink eyes. behind a veil. they were so familiar. that you felt like you wanted to completely sink in them. ❝ it is okay. are you okay? ❞ her voice. you couldn’t help but feel all choked up. it sounded slightly different. but at the same time, it was her. it was rose. you can see the concern in her eyes. even though watching her brutal performance. the dance in the air… the splat that had you wincing. it was too much. you did not know if to sink into her arms or to pull away and recalibrate. to actually sit down. to sleep. it seemed like a far journey to the comfort of your home.

❝ i… i am okay. thank you for… asking ❞ you choked out. you were unsure if you wanted to choke out a sob or it was a breath. you slowly pulled your arm from hers. before her hands… the clawed tips traced along your bare hand. and for a moment, you saw how her eyes dilated. like they were sensing. but at the same time, it was such a brief touch. columbina stood there, she felt the inner turmoil. it was as if this human in front of her wanted to escape. to run away. the pain was so severe and pain. yet, it was laced with something that had her wanting to grab your hand and pull you close. it was a pain that had her stop. she need to seek more. she needed to hold your hand. her hands twitched. wanting to inch closer to pull. but only stopped. slowly trying to keep herself calm. yet the way you looked at her, in between if she was someone who was a safe haven… but also someone who scared you. why was that? she needed to know. one brief touch was not enough. she needed more. she needed it so badly that her hands ached. but one breath at a time.

but you were already pulled away, ❝ you are welcome ❞ columbina spoke with a warm expression that watched your expression. keeping in mind what was going on behind those pretty eyes of yours. why were you so frantic? why was your heart racing so fast. why was it that you were looking around, trying to find a route of escape? ❝ what tents did you visit, dear visitor? ❞ she asked, she wanted to be in your presence. even when you were scared. even when you felt like some cornered animal. your presence alone, it felt like them. it felt like they were alive. which troubled her greatly. jester would not like that one bit. he held their memory on the highest regard. he had kept many of their belongings close before allowing ticket taker to guard these treasures. they may have travelled. they may have lost the circus many times. but somehow, each time… they managed to keep their memory in tact. no matter the troubles. though her eyes glanced over at your friend that remained close. the white ticket loosely tucked in their pocket. somehow she was guessing that you had a hunch of some sort. 

you paused. looking at her. rose… looked so different from before. she already looked like a human. but somehow, the one standing in front of you, was almost someone wearing a mask. metaphorically. her appearance alone was humanoid. ❝ all… all of them ❞ you answered quietly. you had turned away, feeling like you were going to crumple before her. ❝ but the tents are quite intense… i am heading back home to sleep ❞ you stepped back. a smile that was wavering as you grasped your friends hand. tugging them away. ❝ it… it was such a treat ❞ you murmured and immediately slipping away from the circus. though even as you walked away. you can feel her gaze seared against your back. even as you walked away. you were feeling more eyes against your back. you were unsure if it were either from animosity or something else… but all you can truly think of doing currently was to grab their friend, walk them back to their home safe and sound. before returning back home. 

however, back in the purple tent, one quick sweep around. jester let out a soft click of the tongue. the mess they leave behind. they leave nothing good behind with what they touched. his gaze sharpened as he stepped along the rows of seats. allowing the fools to clean up the trash. popcorn kernels to even random receipt stubs. ❝ disgusting ❞ he hissed. he walked until his shoe had stepped on something solid. a rock or possibly someone’s belongings. he lift his shoe up. only to meet with a familiar purple hue. with a quick grace, he had reached down. grasping the smooth surface. an amethyst. a common stone. he had seen many use it. something spiritual about the stone. though, his gaze only softened for a brief moment. his fingers slowly closed around the smooth surface. even when it was the belongings of some human being… the stone and its name… remained a cherished memory.

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it took half an hour. you had finally gotten home. your legs felt like they were being dragged down by some deep dark abyss. your weary tired soul felt like it was weighing down with so many thoughts running through your mind. too much. that you wanted to just collapse on your bed and just sleep. and that was what you were going to do. you trudged through your apartment. it sounded like you were just dragging yourself across the room. or sounded like some was pulling you across the wooden floors. your eyes were growing heavy. tired. you did not even want to take off your clothes that was just making you feel disgusting and icky. the sweat. the scent of the looming danger of the circus… the fear and nausea that bubbled inside you. no. you were at your wits end. and you needed sleep. you needed some kind of peace. so once you had collapsed on the bed. the bed that was lulling you to a peaceful sense of false security. you tried to pull something off, a coat? possibly anything. weakly kicking it off the bed. 

a shift here. a small movement there. you were out cold. so emotionally, mentally and physically drained from the day that had been nothing but stress inducing. trying to welcome the warm embrace that was a deep sleep… and hopefully a dreamless slumber. the sound of the door moved. he stood there. six and five inches tall. towering and casting multiple shadows in your home. his golden eyes gleamed. holding such a pained fractured need and desperation. the bells were silent. even with each movement. his gaze didn’t leave your figure. no. not one bit. ❝ meu tesouro ❞ he began. his voice was wavering. as his clawed hands reached. even as he spoke, he saw no signs of you stirring awake at all. ❝ you have seem so tired… your journey back… it must have been so difficult ❞ he murmured, his gloved hands moved. brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

❝ harlequin… he said i was mad. but he does not understand. he would not understand ❞ he frowned. ❝ you had helped me… i felt it when you helped me. your eyes, the way it wavers… it is the same. but you do not remember it yet… ❞ he leaned closer. his towering figure, his shadow swallowed you completely. ❝ i have searched so many faces… so many breaths i have counted… they… now i know that everyone before was wrong. i was wrong for not realising that the ones before did not hold a candle to you, meu tesouro… ❞ his voice lowered to a whisper. it was so intimate and quiet. he had watched your sleeping face. his expression was a mixture of so many. pain. care. reverence. madness… possession. ❝ harlequin… says you do not look like them. not exactly. the hair colour… the way your lips look… your nose is different ❞ he paused. he was trembling with a shaking need. ❝ but the way you exist… it is just like them. i would know… no, i made mistakes before. but i am right, this time ❞ his hand cupped your cheek. his breath shook.

❝ it is the way you stood. the way you walk… everything. ❞ he leaned. ❝ he said that i am seeing what i want to see… after over a hundred years. any significant resemblance would click… but he does not understand… or maybe he does… ❞ his voice wavered and weakened. as a tears started to well up in his eyes. ❝ everyone is so stupid… they do not see how you matter. how much you are just them ❞ he had let out a shaky breath. he finally pulled away. instead, he knelt beside your bed. his head laying against the soft plush bed. ❝ i will make them see… i will make sure everyone understand you are them. and they are you… i just need to see… that you even have a small hint of recognition ❞ he closed his eyes. ❝ … please… please just remember me… everyone… before i go completely mad ❞ his hands now placed upon your own hand. 

it was complete sheer silence. he was breathing. he was settled onto the floor. his eyes fixed on the way you breathed. in and out. ❝ sleep a little longer, meu tesouro… the remembering… it will be painful… but i will watch over you. like how i should have back then. but now i will watch over you forever now ❞ as he sat there. he wanted to remain by your side. be the guardian. the protector. the sentinel… the monster that had his heart beating for you. and as you had slept on. sleeping so soundly. he would keep you close to him. he did not want to let you go… he just simply cannot. you were too important. he could not let you go again.

in your dreamless slumber, no… the scent of something sweet wafted in the air. as if your mind had conjured a scent so warm. you remained in the darken consciousness of your mind. walking across the empty land of your mind. the sound of distorted voices echoed throughout the chambers. your steps were light on what was the ground. it was solid… somewhat. but you continued to walk. trying to find some kind of exit. the retelling of the stories that were twisting. either the voices were in muffled distortion or booming at some points. a frown adorned your features as you continued to walk. one step at a time. not pausing. not stopping. the sound of someone familiar did caress your nerves. topaz? it sounded like him… except a lot more lower, a little raspy from disuse. his words struck a cord deep within you as you quietly questioned. 

it was a matter on if you want to keep a distance from the circus for a while. or approach the circus once more. to figure out more. it was a desperate need. and just as you continued to walk. you heard the voice once more. ❝ meu tesouro… i must go soon… but i have waited for so long to say this… i love you. i love you so much… ❞

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the face. the body. the hands. everything. it was staring at you. those eyes. the one that had haunted your nightmares. and you were standing there. completely frozen. it was as if you were staring at the same reflection once more. it was the face that you had wore before… you had died then. that was what you had remembered. and now it was here. standing amongst a myriad of mirrors. it wasn’t breathing. it was just a mirror. eyes that seem to shimmer and glow for a brief moment. as you stood there… feeling the tightness around your throat. as if it was trying to close in itself. you felt completely paralysed in the spot. your lungs? it felt like two organs that did not want to work. did not want to breathe the air in. your hands felt completely clammy. trying to wipe the sweat upon your pant leg to almost possibly dry them. to no avail. the sweat came back with a vengeance. 

you watched as their head tilts. watching you. there was no actual recognition in their eyes. but at the same time, they looked at you…. like they know what you did. and all you could do was stand there like some kind of statue rooted to the ground. your legs did not want to run anywhere. your mouth was so dry, like you were unsure if you can even breathe. if was not the same hollowed look that you had given yourself. no. the real one. the original soul that you possibly had displaced. you never figured or found out the reasoning to why you had inhabited the body. but now you were looking at you. knowing almost… you gulped a bit as you were trying to find the right questions. the right retorts. anything. because the gaze towards you was all knowing. like it watched your life through the big screen like you were a display of movies and films. 

❝ so… this is the face of the soul ❞ it’s voice was incredibly distorted. you were unsure if you were feeling uneasy that you couldn’t tell what they sound like. the mirrors… were they heavily distorting the sound. ❝ come closer. i can’t bite you… since i have passed away a long ago. ❞ they chuckled but their words sound bitter. but you were wondering if it were because you had taken over their body and started to work under their name… or something else but at the same time, you never even realise how they did not stare at you with any kind of disgust nor anger. a false sense of security possibly. but you chose to approach the mirror. carefully. quietly. you could not hear anything nor can you even feel the watchful eyes that you felt previously. you looked around. confused. ❝ how… how am i seeing you? ❞ you asked. everything felt like it made sense. like it was pointing at one thing. but it was easier to believe something else. 

though the figure let out a sound that sounded like a balloon slipping out. ❝ he ❞ the figure directed around the mirrors. ❝ cannot see me… or even realised i am here… but i am unfortunately trapped here in this circus for some circumstances that you have caused ❞ and you winced at the accusation. though the figure had noticed it and let out a sigh. they can see how stiff you looked. just how… withered away. they had been watching what ticket taker show all those illusions. referring you to them… albeit, you were them. but your soul, the memories return back to the now. and they… unfortunately could not pass on. ❝ i am not angry at you ❞ they spoke, with gritted teeth. you looked down. 

❝ then why are you showing yourself to me? ❞ you asked. staring at the figure who was trying their best to choose its words extremely careful. knowing you were an individual who had suffered a lot. ██████ watched the passing of time. haunted the grounds due to reasons that they have been trying to figure out. ❝ come closer ❞ the figure asked. you were confused, how close? so you had walked a little closer before you yelped. feeling a subtle flick on your forehead. it wasn’t physically there. but you were shocked that you could feel it. ❝ you need to stop thinking too much. you are a lot stronger than you think ❞ the figure had frowned. ❝ and a lot smarter too. you are too deep in… whatever you are going through ❞ they winced. what a way to comfort someone who came from the twenty-first century. 

❝ you should think it through. there has been quite a lot of clues staring at you ❞ the figure quickly added. ❝ bilheiteiro would be wondering why you are in the tent too long. and your friend… you should watch out for them ❞ they answered. they could sense it. ticket taker was not aware of the existence of the spectral figure that had practically remained haunted in every nook and cranny. ❝ would i see… you again? ❞ you asked. making the figure shocked and confused. why was it that you would want to see the face that had haunted your days back then? ❝ what a peculiar thing to ask me, little one… but of course you would see me again… i would be asking for a favour… ❞ you stood there. ❝ remember. think about what you are watching… watch every performer. ❞ watching as the figure disappeared when you had heard the footsteps from behind you. making you tense up.

you turned around and saw it was just ticket taker. ❝ dear visitor. i thought you were lost. the mirrors can get disorientating ❞ he spoke. his eyes narrowed while he was staring at the mirror you were standing. there was nothing here. nothing there. so why was it that you were standing there… he was sure he had heard voices.. his eyes narrowed. staring at you. wondering and questioning why is it that you were standing there, talking to yourself. there was nothing here. no illusion. no tricks. nothing. but you looked like you had seen a ghost. it was strange and peculiar. ❝ allow me to lead you out. your… friend is waiting for you for the last performance of the night ❞ he ushered you out, but his gaze remained on the empty mirror that seem to leave some cast of warmth. like something was lingering. something dare linger in his domain? he may have to look over it. 

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it was a blur. after meeting up with your friend, all safe and sound. maybe not all safe and sound. since you were now sitting in a tent. once again. it was not as overly huge like the pink and red tent. possibly just the same size as the green one. another story telling one. but you were remembering. remembering the words amongst the haze of sheer panic to the possible deadly performance you were going to witness. it was the dread that mingled with the advice of ██████. what did they mean to watch every performer? the stories? the memories? you were merely just thinking and it felt like a siren that blared and vibrated in your mind. your breath was slow, trying to think. until the lights were knocked out, like it predicted that you were dwelling deep in your mind. the sound of footsteps. one step at a time. a man clad with elegance and grace, like a royal storm of purples. his movements were smooth, watchful with every gesture. his sharp toothed grin gleamed under the spotlight. 

❝ welcome, welcome! my precious monsters of the day ❞ his voice carried through the air. commanding attention. like he was grasping a chain to drag everyone’s gaze to him, to the stage. forcing everyone’s lips shut like to shush them. like a blanket of silence draped over everyone. ❝ did you come thirsty for blood? hungry for terror? ❞ his eyes gleamed, searching the audience. before it merely passed over you. there was a gleam. a look. it was like it was looking like dirt on his shoe. like you had done something that had displeased him. like you were just wrong. a fraud. it was only for a few moments before it just disappeared like it was nothing. returning his gaze to the general audience. you gulped. ❝ you know, my dear monsters, this dark garden is the window to the kind of fear you have been craving ❞ his hand raised. ❝ and i, your noble jester, couldn’t deny shivers to my starving little monsters, could i? ❞ his grin curled, his eyes held a manic look. ❝ tonight, i’ll tell you a story. hold your gasps, it’s just a harmless story about… the forbidden love between monsters and the sacrifice ❞ he slowly stepped back, allowing the actors in place.

you winced. at the sight of actors. this cannot be good. you closed your eyes tightly. like you need to look away. it was painful. the idea that you were going to once again watch a brutal murder happen once again in front of you. and you would not be able to stop. however, the words had continued to repeat themselves. watch the performers. watch them. you felt like you were fumbling so you finally opened your eyes. gazing back at the front. you needed to see. you needed to somehow witness whatever they had told you. even if it choked you and clouded your eyes. 

❝ in a forgotten valley, where the sun refused to rise… and the air tasted of sorrow… and ash ❞ he pulled back. ❝ six creatures slept, their hearts had long been hollowed by silence and isolation… they did not dream. they did not even breathe for anything but the habit of surviving… they had long devoured hope long ago ❞ he watched at the ones, those dressed in white moved. each bearing a symbol of their own. sleeping. the actors, sleeping… wounded. ❝ but then… they came… a figure of warmth… walking barefoot through the rot, the rust… pure… their eyes were so soft ❞ his voice quivered as the actor, one’s movement was gentle. elegant. but under jester’s gaze, he could not help but scrutinise each movement. wrong. it was all wrong. that was not how they would have moved. ❝ their saviour… a blooming flower… a light in a garden of decay and rot… a flower who dared to grow in a world such as this… a world that has been long buried in the shadows of corruption and desperation ❞ he spoke like he was reminiscing it. 

but you who sat, listened. wondering why it sounded so familiar. like a different retelling of the one in the green tent. ❝ the six creatures loved them in six different ways ❞ he had directed his hands towards each one. ❝ the yellow eyed beat who saw in them a home, a haven ❞ one stood, holding their hand towards the actor who was supposed to be the saviour. the desperation aching in every movement. ❝ the green eyed serpent who found to the comfort and the calm in their presence ❞ another stood, holding their hand out like a desperate clawing while trying to remain some semblance of restraint. ❝ the blue eyed wisp wanted only to listen to their laughter ❞ one stood, in a manner that mirror one who had the personality of a gentleman, yet with a desperation to listen. ❝ the pink eyed heart one who found song in their voice ❞ another stood with a more gentle disposition moved. ❝ the cyan eyed monster who loved them but realised too late ❞ a larger actor moved, his body turned. ❝ the purple eyed one… made them a promise ❞

you tensed. your eyes seem to gleam. a promise. purple. the slow realisation came in waves, crashing against the shore of your subconscious. ❝ ❛ if the would wounds me, would you devour me… ❜ they had whispered… ❞ the white one stepped. gazing at the one who wore a mask that resembled his. ❝ and the monster swore upon his heart even when his clawed hand trembled. a foolish promise, the purple eyed one thought. one he hoped not to fulfil ❞ he spoke. watching as the scene changed. ❝ and for a time… light and darkness learnt to waltz with one another. the valley glowed with orbs of light. they had thought that perhaps this was hope… ❞ his voice seem to hold a moment of care. a cradle almost… but his voice turned cold. ❝ but the world… was cruel ❞ his face was harsh. but everyone couldn’t see it. but to you. the realisation hit like a ton of bricks. ❝ humans came with chains… eyes filled with greed… they had feared what they could not understand ❞ his voice filled with anger. the scene with the actors was almost chaotic… 

❝ and in the cruelty of humans… they took the saviour… ❞ his eyes closed. ❝ broken… bleeding… their saviour sat amongst them. an inch from their life… before they offered themselves… not to the gods above… not to humans…. not to any otherworldly beings… only to them. the monsters who loved them ❞ his voice shook. ❝ the green eyed serpent stepped forward. his tears fell. he had seen the world as cruel. and so he took the promise, the villainous role to take the life of the one who had given him life ❞ watching as the one in a mask with green embellishments held the one… their saviour. jester’s gaze wavered. remembering that night so well… he had been shocked. taken back. a promise he did not think he would have to fulfill for a long time.  ❝ it was a mercy… a cruel act of a twisted mercy. and it dripped of red and smelled of rust ❞ he watched as sharp claws clawed at them. teeth to skin. tearing it. watching and hearing the wet sounds. he did not pull away from the control. no. they did not scream when they died. ❝ and when it was done… the six creatures wept as they devoured. their valley that once glowed and blossomed with flowers… fell silent once more ❞ he whispered.

he watched the crumpled bloodied mess get dragged away. your body was like a tight strung string, ready to snap at any time possible.. ❝ the purple eyed monster stood amongst the others., bathed in shadow and red. a promise he did not fulfil… and his heart broken ❞ his voice grew quiet. ❝ the green eyed one hid his hands… scrubbing and scrubbing… as if he was copying one of the habits of the saviour… trying to wash off the cruel mercy… it was necessary… or was it truly? ❞ his eyes darted towards the one, the one that represented harlequin. remembering how harlequin had stepped in. taking in the role to be the villain, to be the devourer. even when it pained him just as much. your hands twitched, remembering your… intense need to constantly clean your own hands. your hands unconsciously rubbed with one another. ❝ but the valley knew better than that. the saviours light had faded… but not forgotten under the weight of the grief… the six monsters remained… so silent as they left the valley… watching as the valley swallowed itself whole ❞

jester stood on the stage. a bow as the blood lingered on the platform. but humans were so… foolish. they did not see. they did not even realise one of their own was murdered in front of their eyes. such simple minded creatures. all they cared about was for their entertainment. not to why something looked so realistic. not to check if the actor was okay. well… there were rare cases, of course. there were rare cases. but those who actively choose to go to a circus filled with nightmarish horrors… they love the thrill of it. they love to witness the gore. the unsettling part. and it was amusing… his gaze turned. glancing at the crowd. until he stopped back again. once at you. yet instead of what he expected, there was a horror… the verge of a panic attack. he can see it approaching… but he turned away. leaving the stage

just as the curtains fall, the sound of cheers around you seems to drown by the loud static ringing in your ears. were you that blind? perhaps… it was hard to believe in fairytales. hard when you search in every crowd and hope that you can meet a gaze that was familiar to theirs. presence that rang true and comfort. one time… another time. and once again another. your hands grasped a stranger, only to startle someone. it was your mind playing tricks. that was what your therapist had said… it had been barely a couple of months. and your heart still ached and wondered. did they eat? are they eating? are they safe? … that one simple newspaper clipping was what truly… grounded you. and as the claps slowly quietens down around you… your mind now fully in the presence. but no less anxious like before… you were looking at amethyst on the stage. or what he goes by… the jester. 

and you were now an audience watching the aftermath of what your death had caused. stories… of yourself. twisted in a grief stricken narrative that you could not control. faces you did not recognise. voices that were now laced with a desperation and pain that was hidden behind a grandeur performance. and you now did not know what to do. because you knew… they had spent over a century grieving. and grief… was fickle. it was a rollercoaster of emotions. the denial.. the anger… the yearning… the deep misery… the resentment to the world. and the guilt. they had suffered much worse just as you did. they had the years. and now… you have understood… ticket taker. how quick he was to be angered at the mention of the name sapphire… 

everything was clicking into place. and you were emotionally and mentally exhausted to approach them… without the possibility of opening barely stitched up cuts. and poorly patched up wounds.

——————————————————————————

you undoubtedly wanted to run. was it fear? was it the undeniable thread that consumed your waking being? you couldn’t tell as you stared at the silhouette that had shown itself multiple times today. too many times. too much for your own liking. it loomed like a shadow that wanted to swallow the ground you stood. thick… and viscous like ink. you clutched your clothes, questioning if you should run. though what was truly nauseating was the fact that everyone was missing. there was so many people… such quiet sounds… were you imagining it? were you slowly descending to madness… the more you dwelled, the more you felt sick in the pit of your stomach. you stepped back until the shadow disappeared into nothingness. and the sight… the nauseating sight of two figures on each side approached the middle mirror. 

and for a second… you saw a flicker… a flicker of a familiar frame from the cafe. it was quick. but you caught it. ❝ in here, dear guest… you will see things you might want to… whispers from your heart… or perhaps warnings from beyond ❞ he spoke in a manner that bordered polite and a threat. and somehow the idea that the mirrors would… show the whispers from your heart. the same heart that was thumping too fast that you can hear it. ❝ ❛ don’t trust what your eyes… see… ❜ do please, enjoy, oh weary visitor ❞ and with that, he disappeared. which made you step back just momentarily. you were questioning yourself. questioning the chaos and the insanity you were witnessing. it was terrifying. unpredictable. and in most cases, unpredictability can be… detrimental. the unknown… the dangers. the warning signs your body screamed. that you weren’t following…

❝ just keep moving forward, weary one ❞ the sound of his voice seem to vibrate the glass of the mirrors. you shook. looking around. almost trying to find the source. but it felt like it was coming from everywhere… your mouth felt… dry. the sensation of whatever saliva you had slowly gulped down… like a trickle. like a broken tap. ❝ you’ll find the exit, eventually… though i’d recommend not stopping for too long ❞ it was a threat. that’s how you were describing it. that’s how you were interpreting his words laced with this faux joy to lure you into a false sense of security. like it was a hug of reassurance from a bush of thorn roses. ❝ i’ve heard monsters live in the dark… and mirrors… sometimes show more than they should ❞ you hesitated. before you slowly walked ahead. the atmosphere felt like it was in reverse. rewinding itself in an eerie cacophony. 

you approached one of the mirrors. seeing your reflection. standing there as you wondered what was it that you were supposed to see. until a flash of green. your body tensed. those eyes… it was like two different things. this one… was eyes that were familiar… green. but it was colder. darker. ❝ you’re not… ❞ the shadowy finger moved. like a beast ready to stalk and pounce. ❝ your eyes… they’re the wrong shade ❞ the way the shadow shot out and attempt to catch your jaw. ❝ smile ❞ the command was barely a whisper. you were tense even when this… this was not anything- your mouth trembled. your lips forced itself to a smile. and you see him recoil. ❝ no. no. no- ❞ the shadowy shook its head. violently. ❝ they smiled like the world owed them nothing!! like forgiveness… like the only goodness in the world ❞ it’s voice was distorted. making you wince. 

❝ wrong. wrong. wrong. wrong… terribly wrong ❞ the word was like a mantra. the voice shredded and distorted, completely different from the one that had performed in front of you. making you quake. ❝ i waited ❞ he snarled. not at you. or perhaps at you. the silence that followed was worse than the repetitive nature of his chanting. ❝ but you breathe like them… ❞ he whispered. like that would make it kinder. ❝ the world… the universe is so cruel… to make you so close… ❞ his hands moved from the jaw to your jaw. like it could squeeze the life out of you. ❝ it’s not your fault… none of it is… you’re just the wrong shape… the wrong colour… ❞ his grip attempt tighten. watching as he tilt his head as the scent of night blooming jasmine pulsed in the air. until his jaw sunk down your shoulder. ❝ next time… ❞ he whispered and the jaws sunk deeper. 

you jolt away. watching as the figure disappears in front of your eyes. your hands grasped your shoulder. like the phantom pain of something that happened in a distant past revealed itself. you were panting. you were hyperventilating. trying to count between the breaths but it was hard to do so. it was either too few between or too fast and heavy. you turned away, trying not to gaze at the mirror that seem to linger in your heart. but what was the emotion? you could not tell. it was impossible when everything felt heavy and tight. like you were trying to hold up this entire tent with your two hands. holding up while your arms shook with so much effort… holding it up that you were unsure if you could keep your legs straight… 

you went to the mirror opposite. you approached it. until there was another shadow. you closed your eyes… almost in fear what was there gazing back at you. ❝ ahh… meu tesouro ❞ the voice was different from the one before. ❝ i stopped counting the years… after maybe thirty… numbers are so cruel… they… they don’t care how much you miss someone ❞ the voice was quiet. filled with grief. ❝ meu tesouro… i had memorised you… i had nothing else to do in the dark but replay you… over and over again until the memory burned a hole inside me… so don’t tell me i’m mistaken again… don’t tell me i’ve forgotten what you feel like ❞ his voice was shaky. like he was asking and making sure. the way the shadow held you so reverently. watching as his eyes closed. cradling you close. ❝ but i look at you… and think you’re not… no- no no… i won’t say it. i wont even think of it. you’re here… that’s proof. you being here in my arms is proof ❞ 

though the shadow was shaking. ❝ just you and me… together ❞ the voice grew shaky… almost like he was holding some kind of… need for you to stay. ❝ stay with me ❞ it continued to plead. ❝ stay… just stay. i don’t care if your eyes are all wrong. or your voice pitched differently… or how you don’t laugh like them. i can learn you. i can learn more about you like i learnt them. i can love you just the same. i can try. so stay with me ❞ watching as there was blood forming. ❝ say yes. please say yes ❞ his voice continue to waver in an obsessive need to keep you in its arms. you tried to back away. feeling like this was getting too intense. too much for you. as you were feeling too… too suppressed… like the air was condensed in one area. you gulped until then you let out a sudden cry, the sound of glass shattering. your eyes opened, meeting a knife embedded into the glass. 

you started trembling, turning away from the reflective surface. unable to stare at it long. you turned away and immediately went to a different mirror. that was too intense… and what was that?! a knife? out of nowhere? you slowly blinked. breathing harshly. trying to what? regulate what? you have been experiencing nothing but continuous strife and heavy traumatic inflictions over and over again. you felt eyes all over you. unaware ticket taker’s eerie gaze continue to linger. his attention snapped between two places. one, to watch over the circus like a guard that ensured the protection and the security of the circus… and the other was the human that had managed to weasel itself into their familial dynamic. unruly. it was the same old with pierrot. his delusions. trying to find them when they have long left this mortal realm. it was saddening, watching it repeat itself once again. and having to pick up the pieces when that person did not match the version that he remembered… 

however, for the doctor to also show interest? that was something new. offering his cyan ticket. you rarely see that ticket often given to anyone due to the lack of outings outside the circus itself… due to the nature of humans. his appearance attracted attention and the second eldest knew that. he had watched the scene, like a judge. watching the conversation. and his own heart throbbed at the reminder of his own stupidity and blind hope to assume a human can ever be them. but here was a human in his tent. with two of their family forged by the same experience… their interest upon this human must be corrected. seeing how you were… not following such commands. stopping at two of the many mirrors that reflected one another. seeing your reaction. it was visceral. it was physical… and pierrot had stepped in. breaking one of the mirrors. this would need to be discussed. 

staring at the next mirror. this was getting dizzying. until a large figure loomed over you. there wasn’t you in the reflection. the doctor. his stature was truly recognisable. though his gaze was intense. ❝ your heart rate has increased a considerable amount… possibly tachycardia?? the rhythm, however, is familiar… like theirs ❞ the voice spoke softly. like he was talking to a small animal. though he paused. ❝ i am aware you are not them… the resemblance is superficial… everyone… no… one will not stop asking whether you are the one or merely presenting the same signs as them ❞ it was a silence that felt uncomfortable. ❝ i have ruled out resurrection, possession, reincarnation… and coincidence… you are quite the precise mimic… it is quite a hazard, my tasty patient ❞ and you stood there. listening to his words. feeling the thrumming of your chest.. 

❝ i have performed on many. i know the weight of every organ… every point of a system… yet… still, i cannot tell you where love originates… because by the time i realised what it was, what was left was an empty cavity… and a body gone cold. ❞ the sound seemed like he was frowning at the idea. at just the mere…idea that he was slow to realise his true feelings for them before it was long gone. he stared at you, at your soul. ❝ they  would have wanted me to let you go… i know this. i know them. but they are dead. and i am a doctor… and a doctor would not waste a sample… that reminded him of one who got away ❞ his hand holding a ticket. the same ticket that was now in your pocket. felt a lot heavier. like somehow a slip of paper was as heavier as lead. weighing you down considerably. your mouth have gone completely dry. as you watched the image disappear… 

you stepped back. you shoved your hand into your pocket. stepping back. feeling the weight of the brightly coloured ticket in your pocket. until you stumbled upon the next mirror. a soft wince. a quiet oof. you slowly turned. only to see piercing purples stare back. ones that was as hard as stone but cold as the coldest of tundras. you didn’t recognise this one. from all the performers you have met, he had a distinct appearance of one you have encountered yet. ❝ how dare some frightened mimic dare to devour the light that is not theirs ❞ he spoke. his voice was almost like a lullaby. but his words were harsh. like he spat it out. ❝ they had given us warmth. a light. a reason… and now that the sun is gone… this poor imitation, a candle daring to stand in the same sky… it is laughable… and lethally misguided… ❞ his eyes narrowed. 

❝ you are not them. the fact that this needs to be stated aloud offends me… you are a smudge on a mirror that once reflected perfection. the mirror has shattered long ago… ❞ the anger in his voice was palpable. ❝ you… you with their supposed fear and their heartbeat… you are nothing but a forgery. a poor one… and i do not tolerate forgeries of those that are sacred ❞ his gaze never leaving your figure. scrutinising you with every inch of your being. ❝ you better run… or your luck would run out, you little fake ❞ you stepped back as you started seeing many shadows behind the darkened figure whose eyes glowed violent. ❝ i will have my fun with you ❞ until the mirage disappear… it was truly too much. staring at the mirror that just gazed back in a manner like the figure would show itself. it would reach out and wrap its sharp claws around your neck. it was the questioning of why the figure was calling you a fake. 

you stepped over to another mirror. then ticket taker formed in the mirror. ❝ you’re an interesting guest… i told you not to stop. yet… you wanted to look at every mirror ❞ he spoke. his hands pushed through the mirror. you stepped back. tensed. how was he walking through a mirror… was it a mirror? ❝ so… the monster caught up to you ❞ and he was in front of you. and suddenly you feel a warm breath against your neck. you wanted to turn. the scent of something familiar. a comfort you have been seeking for so long. your body and mind was telling you to turn. ❝ don’t ❞ he spoke, a command, really. ❝ don’t look back, trust me ❞ all you can feel was something enormous grab your head. forcing forward. you can’t move. just as you watched the man in front of you. ❝ i despise the disobedient. you’re lucky i can’t hurt you ❞ he spoke hurriedly. ❝ stop right there ❞ you stood still. 

❝ i’m watching you. step back. we’re only talking. it depends on you ❞ he was conversing. but who was he conversing with? ❝ now, where were we? ah. yes. ❞ he spoke. ❝ be polite. and keep your eyes on me. we’re having a conversation ❞ he stared down on you. like he was analysing what was the makings of your soul. you then slowly felt your head released. heavy claws pressing down your shoulder. you were silent. your body was still screaming for you to turn around. ❝ this is the part where the other visitors usually say, what an impressive trick ❞ his eyes narrowed at you. ❝ but not you, right, guest? your eyes, doubt. ❞ he frowned as he stared down at you. ❝ hmm… not everyone makes it this far… but there is no need to tremble. i don’t bite ❞ he spoke. then you used every ounce of your being to turn when the sound was coming from behind. 

only for your eyes to be clamped down. ❝ tsk. so disobedient. i think i’ll have to keep an eye on you ❞ for a moment, you felt the weight of a hand over your eyes. the scent… it calms you. it pulls you closer to him. like it was the memory of markets… the memory of working with inks. you opened your mouth to say something only for the hand to pull away and you stared at a blank space in front of you. you stood there in a complete daze. there was that need for you to find that man. to demand answers. something. but all you felt was cold. slowly you wrapped your arms around your form. to ground yourself in some way. 

you stared at the second last mirror. your arms tightened around your body. in a gentle lull. until you were met with pink eyes amongst the shadows. your breath hitched. the figure was just like the aerialist… but her eyes were gentle. caring. not… like the last two. ❝ we loved them… all of us did. i am asking… begging you to leave.. walk away ❞ her voice was most gentle compared to the encounters before. ❝ what you brought here, let it remain just a memory… do not become one like the ones before you ❞ the way her hand caressed your cheek like you mean something. her arms wrapped around your form. a reminder. you wanted to lean closer. close your eyes. ❝ for your own good… i am the only one who would hesitate… however, hesitation is not enough to keep you alive, keep you breathing when the others… ❞ the pause. the concern in her eyes as she spoke of your safety.

she stared. gentle. sweet. the way she stared even as a shadow only caused the ache in your chest. ❝ everyone is not cruel… but our grief has made us blind… and you would get caught in the crossfire ❞ her voice choked softly. like holding onto you was enough. you didn’t realise you were shedding tears. ❝ if i let myself look at you too long… i will start calling you by their name… and their name holds value… ❞ she whispered. ❝ so leave, before you become another one among their jaws ❞ her voice left with a whisper. and the shadow was gone. a gentle warning. a nudge that you should take. but you stared at your reflection. tears streamed down your cheeks, even when there was nothing there… why was it that it reminded you of the gentle warmth of someone who you were unsure was still around. the warmth of one’s arms. yet you wonder if this was a false sense of security. 

your hands clutched your arms. as you stopped in front of a broken mirror. creepy. then you started hearing screaming. the scene of a fire. a fire engulfing a tent. the scent of burning embers… burning flesh permeated through the air. making it hard to breathe. it was really strong. too strong. you couldn’t help but stare at the mirror. the insults were… some of them mirrored those who laughed at your dear friends… your… dear hearts. as you stepped away. looking away. you choked on your breath. the air still smelt of a fire that was all hungry,.. all consuming. you turned around, trying to find the exit. where was the damned exit?! you were looking around, feeling too overwhelmed as you walked further. mirrors that remained still. showing your reflection… that felt like eyes on you. 

until you stopped in front of two mirrors that seemed tucked away. ❝ come closer ❞ the voice was familiar. this was the same voice that you could remember vibrating through your skull. you stepped closer. ❝ come closer… i need to see the true soul that inhabit this body ❞ and then you were met with the figure that caused you to choke. 

it was them. 

██████

——————————————————————————

How long has it been since you left him? Months? Years? You’d lost count, too busy trying to survive on your own to truly care.

You do not regret what you did: he had it coming. You do, however, regret leaving so quickly, taking flight into the night as soon as you were done devouring the evidence of your vengeance. Perhaps if you had been a bit wiser, you would have taken some essentials to help you survive on your own. But alas, your mind had been far too frazzled to think of anything other than to consume and fly.

You wanted to go home, back to the wild valleys where you came from, but you were far too deep within human territory and had no way of getting back. And so, you were forced to survive on whatever scraps of food you could find, all the while trying to make yourself look as human as possible so that you weren’t hunted on sight.

When news of a traveling circus coming to the town you were currently residing in reached your ears, you did not think too much of it. While it was a rare occasion for the mundane corner of the Earth you had picked out as your temporary home to receive any caravans (you never stayed in one place for too long and made sure to avoid large cities teeming with humans), outsiders would sometimes stay for a night or two before heading to whichever destination they were aiming for.

‘They’ll probably stay for a few days before moving on with their lives. I’ll need to make sure to stay far away from those new humans - who knows what they’ll do if they figure out I’m not one of them?’

Becoming an attraction to some greedy humans’ freak show was the absolute last thing you wanted for your future. You’d been there, done that, and decided ‘never again’.

If you had known that the ones running the circus were your long-lost friends, you would have dive-bombed into their embrace the second they set foot in town. But alas, you were under the assumption that all you friends were dead - the show you formerly belonged to seemingly vanished into thin air one day, with no traces of anyone associated with it surviving, leaving you to mourn the loss of your loved ones, ridden with guilt at not being there. And so, a whole week went by with a reunion sitting right under your noses, before sheer dumb luck and desperation landed you right into the arms of your family.

You were hungry. Oh so very hungry. It had been weeks since you’d last eaten anything substantial enough to sustain you and you were growing desperate for food. So when your nose picks up the tantalizing scent of fresh meat coming from one of the circus tents, you decide to pull an extremely risky move: you are going to steal from the circus. Waiting for the perfect hour to strike, well after the circus officially closed, your wings soundlessly glide you towards the large black tent where you had sniffed out food earlier.

Inside, you find a buffet.

Not even registering the absurdity of finding such perfect food for monsters in a human-run circus, you let yourself feast upon piles and piles of meat left for the taking. So engrossed in culling your hunger, you don’t even register the presence of others until you hear a hauntingly familiar voice.

“You…! It’s you…!”

Never in your life have you ever moved your body so quickly. Neck turning backwards at a speed you didn’t even think was possible (you thank your bird-like anatomy for giving you a neck with 270 degrees rotation - you’re certain that you would have flailed around from shock if you had to turn your whole body to see who was behind you at that moment), you are met face-to-mask with the owner of two very familiar purple eyes.

He says your name, reaches out to you, but the ringing in your ears is too much, the tent feels suffocating, and you collapse onto the ground as you are overwhelmed by a surge of love, fear, and disbelief. The last thing you think before you are lost to the depth of your mind is how you do not wish for this dream to end.

–

When you wake up, you are greeted by the embrace of strong arms and frantic voices you only ever get to hear in your dreams.

“Step aside Harlequin, you’re suffocating her.”

A man wearing a crying mask clad in red chastises one of the two embracing you, a second figure of black and white carefully observing from besides him.

“I need to step aside? What about Pierrot, he’s practically choking her right now!”

A deep growl is heard right below your left ear, making you flinch.

“You’re scaring her, Pierrot, calm yourself.”

The voice laced with an all-too-familiar venom snickers as the owner of the growl nuzzles into you as if to apologize.

“...Pierrot…?”

You mutter in confusion at the name. Immediately, the nuzzles cease and ‘Harlequin’ gives a growl of his own.

“Of all the names you could have said first….”

“...Harlequin…?”

Immediately, the green-eyed Poison shifts his gaze towards you. His eyes gleam with approval and something else you cannot quite place.

“Yes, cherished one. I’m here, I’m here….”

He practically purrs as his grip around you tightens significantly, earning another growl from the one nuzzling your neck.

“...Harlequin.”

“Hm?”

“Are you… are you real?”

“What?”

“You… him… all of you… you’re, you’re here? You’re actually here? With me? I’m… I’m not dreaming?”

“No, cherished one. This is real.”

Another familiar voice, one belonging to the monster who had found you and brought your half-feral and unconscious self back home, speaks to you as the owner of that voice lays a gentle hand on your cheek to ground you.

“Welcome home, beloved.”

And for the first time since his betrayal, you allow yourself to cry.

<Pierrot>

You were kind. 

You had always been there to patch up his wounds after the humans would round the two of you up for ‘extra discipline’, him as a consequence of protecting his beloved, you for trying to help him or baring your fangs on behalf of the others. You held him while he trembled in pain and would help him sooth his beloved as she cried at the injustices of it all, and for that he was grateful.

The day you went away, he wished you safety. For as a kindred spirit in suffering, he knew that a place where no one could hurt you anymore would be a paradise you rightfully deserved. As he lay alone in his own blood, robbed of the company of another to lick his wounds, he could only hope that you were no longer in pain.

‘It hurts. I want to hear your voice. But at least you won’t be hurt anymore, so I’ll bear this pain for the both of us. Be safe, always.’

–

You were not safe.

The realisation hit him when the ringmaster showed up with a fan made out of your feathers as a response to his beloved’s pleas to see you again.

“As much as I would love to have the Freak Canary back for show, I’m afraid I can’t just take another’s assets. Here, a memento of your friend. Take it and shut up.”

With that, the ringmaster threw the fan towards the six of them as he left mumbling curses under his breath.

“Tsk, should have pawned off her feathers when I had the chance. If I knew that bird would make this much money I would have never sold her to that weasel….”

You beloved savior had not saved you at all. He deceived you and hurt you in different ways than the circus had. Only this time, you were all alone to bear the burden (at least he still had his beloved and the others). The thought made him feel a burning rage towards the human who dared use your heart against you, and at himself for having failed you.

‘Hurt. You’re hurt. And you’re all alone. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold you while you cried. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry….’

<Harlequin>

You were warm.

No matter how many times he hissed at you, how many times he threatened to dismember you, you always smiled at him. You didn’t fear him and his venom, you treated him no different than the others. You dared give him that which he so desperately craved. He did not have to grapple for your attention, for your eyes would so willingly fall on him when he needed you.

The day you went away, he wished you love. Yet his words were laced with bitter poison, for he realised too late that he might have grown to covet your warmth more than the other’s, but could do nothing as someone he wanted fell into the arms of another once again. As he witnessed the lovers find comfort in each other’s embrace, a sight that left an especially bitter taste in his mouth on this particular night, he could at least hope that you would find what he could not.

‘It hurts. I want to feel your arms around me. Are you happy with him? Are you happy leaving me here to rot? You said you’d come back. I’m waiting. We all are. So just, come back.’

–

You were not loved.

The realisation hit him when the ringmaster showed up with a fan made out of your feathers as a response to her pleas to see you again.

“As much as I would love to have the Freak Canary back for show, I’m afraid I can’t just take another’s assets. Here, a memento of your friend. Take it and shut up.”

With that, the ringmaster threw the fan towards the six of them as he left mumbling curses under his breath.

“Tsk, should have pawned off her feathers when I had the chance. If I knew that bird would make this much money I would have never sold her to that weasel….”

Your beloved savior had not loved you. He played you for your features and likely left you to rot in a cage all alone. The thought made him wish to sink his fangs deep into that bastard's neck, yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of relief at the realization that you would not be lost forever to another’s love.

‘It seems my poisonous words ruined you, my dear. Ha…! What a bitter end for both of us.’

<Jester>

You were irreplaceable.

From the day you quite literally dropped into his life, you were always beside him in all manners of life. You hunted together, starved together, and suffered together at the hands of people who only saw you as crude entertainment. You were his. His to cherish, his to hold, and his to claim. Unmistakably, irrevocably his.

The day you went away was the day a part of him was ripped away from him. He wanted to scream, wanted to break the bars of his cage and devour the one who would dare to take you away from him. But he was powerless to stop it, and so, you left.

‘It hurts. I miss you. I need you. You don’t belong with that human, you belong with your family. With me. We all mourn for you, so please, return to your rightful place.’

–

If only he could turn back time, he would have killed that human before he could have even approached you.

He growled when the ringmaster showed up with a fan made out of your feathers as a response to her pleas to see you again.

“As much as I would love to have the Freak Canary back for show, I’m afraid I can’t just take another’s assets. Here, a memento of your friend. Take it and shut up.”

With that, the ringmaster threw the fan towards the six of them as he left mumbling curses under his breath.

“Tsk, should have pawned off her feathers when I had the chance. If I knew that bird would make this much money I would have never sold her to that weasel….”

He was right about your beloved ‘savior’: that human was just as greedy and untrustworthy as the one who had caged them with the promise of food. And yet he allowed him to get his despicable hands on you, allowed him to take you away to a place where he could not reach you. And that was unforgivable.

‘I will find you, beloved one. No matter how long it takes, I will find you. And when I do, I’ll make sure no human can ever harm us again. You have my word.’

<Ticket Taker>

You were hope.

You were a beacon of light, much like their beloved angel, but where she was a gentle flower providing respite from a harsh world filled with claws and fangs, you were a hard rock for the monsters to lean on. You sharpened your claws against the humans that would harm them and freely lent out a shoulder to those who needed comfort. You helped all of them find the strength to carry on, and he was entirely grateful for your presence.

The day you went away, he wished you freedom. For if any one of them could truly be free again, it was you who had wings to carry you far, far away from all the pain and suffering. As he lay down in his cage, suffering from the all-too-familiar pain of starvation, he found a small amount of comfort in thinking that at least one of you would be soaring.

‘It hurts. I want to see you fly. So please, although I cannot be there to witness it, fly for all of us. Canaries were never meant to sing in cages.’

–

You were not free.

The realisation hit him when the ringmaster showed up with a fan made out of your feathers as a response to her pleas to see you again.

“As much as I would love to have the Freak Canary back for show, I’m afraid I can’t just take another’s assets. Here, a memento of your friend. Take it and shut up.”

With that, the ringmaster threw the fan towards the six of them as he left mumbling curses under his breath.

“Tsk, should have pawned off her feathers when I had the chance. If I knew that bird would make this much money I would have never sold her to that weasel….”

Your beloved savior had not freed you from your suffering, he simply trapped you in a different cage. You deserved far better than to spend your life trapped behind humanity’s greed. All of them did. And so, he prayed that one day all of them could be free to roam the world once more, where you could greet them freed of your own cage for good.

‘Fly high, little bird. Fly high….’

<Doctor>

You were treasured.

Although not his by blood, the larger avian looked at you with paternal affection. You were the only other bird monster among your group, a fact that drew him to you instinctively, and your bond deepened after you allowed him to study your regenerative abilities - you wanted to understand your own limits and were more than happy to indulge him in his curiosity. When you were all captured by the human ringmaster, he would often find himself caring for your well being as a doctor would his patient, for how could he allow his most treasured specimen to mindlessly suffer? You were a wondrous creature deserving of care and he was more than happy to play the role of caretaker to the little hatchling who had endeared him (you were fully grown when you met, but the older monster still called you hatchling as a term of endearment).

The day you went away, he warned you to be careful. For he knew that weariness was an essential variable in surviving life, especially for those who had been dealt a cruel hand like your kind, and so he decided to give some parting words of wisdom before you were sent away. He truly hoped that you would make it in life.

‘It hurts. I want to check up on you. Are you well? Is the human treating you with care? So many questions, yet none will be answered….’

–

You were not careful enough.

The realisation hit him when the ringmaster showed up with a fan made out of your feathers as a response to her pleas to see you again.

“As much as I would love to have the Freak Canary back for show, I’m afraid I can’t just take another’s assets. Here, a memento of your friend. Take it and shut up.”

With that, the ringmaster threw the fan towards the six of them as he left mumbling curses under his breath.

“Tsk, should have pawned off her feathers when I had the chance. If I knew that bird would make this much money I would have never sold her to that weasel….”

Your savior was not your savior, but rather a convincing liar who had tricked you into becoming his personal asset. He wished he could peck his eyes out for daring to reduce you to nothing but a means to an end, when you could be so much more.

‘Your doctor will fix you, little hatchling. It will all be better soon….’

<Columbina>

You were wonderful.

You were brave, you were fierce, you had claws that cut the flesh of any who dared to touch you and fangs to puncture the veins of those making unwanted advances. She could not count the number of times you were there to fend off the cruel humans when her beloved was too weak from the beatings he had received on her behalf - the humans liked to pair the two of you together since you were the only females in the group, and you served as a valiant shield to the gazes of leering men. You were an incredible friend who she could trust with her life, and for that she was all the more grateful for having met you.

The day you went away, she wished you happiness. For you deserved to be the center of someone’s world when you had spent so long as another’s faithful shadow. As she lay in the arms of her beloved on a rare occasion the humans allowed them to rest outside their cages, both of them bruised from being used as entertainment earlier, she wished that you would experience the joys of love with your own lover.

‘It hurts. I want to talk with you again. I am being held by my love now, is yours holding you too? I hope one day we can meet again and laugh like we used to, before all this. But until then, I hope you truly did find your happy place.’

–

You were not happy.

The realisation hit her when the ringmaster showed up with a fan made out of your feathers as a response to her pleas to see you again.

“As much as I would love to have the Freak Canary back for show, I’m afraid I can’t just take another’s assets. Here, a memento of your friend. Take it and shut up.”

With that, the ringmaster threw the fan towards the six of them as he left mumbling curses under his breath.

“Tsk, should have pawned off her feathers when I had the chance. If I knew that bird would make this much money I would have never sold her to that weasel….”

Your beloved savior had not loved you. He was just like the rest of them, only using you for what your body could provide and leaving you to wallow in your misery. And unlike her, who had her beloved and the others to protect her, you were all alone to face whatever horrible things that human was doing to you. A shiver went up her spine at the realization, and she could only hope that she was wrong to assume the worst.

‘My dear friend… I’m so, so sorry….’

And as she lay in a pool of her own blood, the anguished faces of the others looming over her as they feasted on her mutilated body, it was a silent apology she repeated for having to leave you forever without saying goodbye.

Next Interlude

his fingers were swift. taking off the straps. he watched as you moved. the figure that was much smaller. less harsh and hard around the edges. of someone who was not accustomed to heavy loaded work like them. your gait was unsteady from the sedative he had administrated. he had been careful. of course, he had been so careful with the dosage. just enough to calm you down. it was just enough to make the world a lot softer at the edges. just enough that you would not remember the way his eyes had flickered to an ominous red. he just watched as you had left the tent.

he continued to watch you. his gaze never truly left your form. watching as you clutch the cyan ticket that he only gave to a few… he did not move. not one bit, but he was watching. his hand had twitched. like he was trying to memorise the touch. the way your cheek felt, the weight… the softness. he let his hand to relax. the cyan of his goggles went dull. in something much quieter… it was not the quietness of nothing. it wasn’t a flat look, or one of disinterest. he could still feel the thrumming of your heartbeat against his palm. he had remembered how he had counted it without meaning to… but he always did. he always found it so fascinating with humans. the workings of their bodies. it was truly fascinating… so interesting. however. there was something different from yours compared to the many who had waltzed into his tent.

yours had been exactly right. it wasn’t approximately. it was not similar. of course. he was someone who believed in facts and science… it was just… the same tempo. the same pressure. the small little flutter from different beats that he had catalogued and memorise over a century ago. so… so many nights. when he had pressed close. trying to replicate the feeling. the sensation. he had slowly lowered his hands. curling his fingers into a tight fist before slowly loosened it. the gloves made a soft creak as he did so. ❛ you are not them ❜ he told himself. he closed his eyes. the words landed somewhere in his chest… yet it did not take root into his foundation that he had built. years had passed and grief was a fickle mistress. where it was hard to truly let you go. even when he understood that he had only known them for a brief time of his long life… truly… it was peculiar. how one simple life can change one’s life… a simple blimp in his long life.

his gaze turned to the white clad figure. yet the doctor did not physically turn to acknowledge the fool. he walked to the examination chair… where you had been bound only minutes before they were interrupted. the restraints were now loose… empty. his clawed tops traced along the seat. pressing his finger against the warmth… it still faintly lingers. he trailed along the armrest. ❝ you have something to say? ❞ he asked, wondering when the message would be. from the faint traces of purple. it must be jester who had sent the fool. ❝ they knew too much. ticket taker’s report was… rather concerning ❞ the voice of the controlled human came rather thin and rough. it was like air was escaping and struggling too come out a balloon with a simple hole. the fool had paused. ❝ you had let them go ❞ it continued to speak.

❝ i gave them a ticket ❞ doctor answered his oldest friend amongst the troupe. ❝ i saw ❞ it continued. the doctor slowly turned towards the fool. ❝ then you saw what just happened ❞ the doctor answered. though as he watched the white clad fold step close. ❝ the issue is that you gave a cyan ticket. your ticket ❞ it continued. but the doctor did not say or respond. ❝ cyan tickets are not those who know too much… not for- for- ❞ the fool try to articulate the words from the purple clad jester that was mere feet’s away. ❝ i know. i am aware of what cyan tickets are for ❞ it was for those that had piqued their interest. a game of sorts they had started. and he was one that gave out the least. he can almost count the amount of those he gave out in just one hand… compared to the others. the silence between the two had that kind of weight. the one that pressed heavy.

❝ doctor ❞ the fool said. there was something gentle in it… but there was a hint of warning. ❝ who was that? ❞ and just as the doctor remained there. his cyan eyes met the hollow gaze of the fool’s mask. ❝ they were a patient. nothing more. nothing less ❞ the doctor responded. ❝ that is not what i asked ❞ the fool spat out. the doctor stared at the human… no, at the mirage of jester. the one he had met first. he knew how protective jester was to the memory of them that it bordered dangerous. like the idea of someone would ever sully their name or the memory. he could count so many instances… yet he knew that jester was a patient man. ❝ you… you wanted to know if they are a threat ❞ the doctor asked. he had paused as he watched the guarded figure. even when jester was not physically there, the body of the controlled fools… almost followed the movement of their leader.

❝ they had… their heartbeat ❞ the doctor’s words came out before he could truly stop it. ❝ not a heartbeat. it was theirs… they breathed in the same cadence… and their fear… the fear had the same tempo… same flavour ❞ the doctor spoke. as he watched the fool pause. it was very still. ❝ doctor. ❞ the sound sounded like fury hidden behind politeness and grace. ❝ that is not possible ❞ the fool had answered. ❝ the one you speak of… meu sol…is dead ❞ the fool had made sure his words, his tone was measured. ❝ but… they were about to say something before you had interrupted ❞ the doctor turned to stare at the gap of the tent. the night sky. the soft glow of the lights. ❝ ale— they had began to say something. a name… or perhaps someone who had knew me… or— ❞

❝ or nothing. ❞ the fool cut in. ❝ a coincidence. a half formed word. the sedative was already in their systems. their thoughts… were not coherent ❞ the fool had continued. ❝ that is the logical conclusion ❞ the doctor had nodded. and he could see the fool twitched. while his gaze turned down to his hand. hands that cradled your cheek not ten minutes before with a tenderness that should have been impossible for the likes of him. ❝ their name… was written down. it was shaky. almost like they were writing their own death warrant ❞ the doctor laughed silently. ❝ the initials… ❞ which only had made the fool step closer. ❝ do not make the same mistake. bil had been mistaken by tricks like this before ❞ the fool gazed up. he was serious. ❝ you are wondering if you want them to be them… doctor. you are no fool. there is no chance they are alive ❞

then he watched as the fool turned to head back to the purple tent. it was a word of caution. a warning. he had slowly sat on the large chair. it creaked beneath him. he had closed his eyes. remembering the single syllable… ale— just a syllable. it could have been anything. alessandra. alex. alec. alexander. or it could have been a sneeze. a cough. a random exhalation. but you were looking at him when you said it. your eyes blown wide… yes. but was focused. you were looking at him. at him. there was something in your gaze. not recognition. not exactly. that would be too simple. it was…. almost like a shadow of recognition. the doctor slowly pressed his palm against his chest. feeling the sound of his heart. trying to remember something that his own memory had long faded but a few.

❛ ale— ❜

❝ alexandrite ❞ he had quietly muttered to himself. like a hope that was as small as a small flame.

——————————————————————————

the moment you stepped out. you felt like you thoughts were a jumble… or possibly like things in a jar filled with water. shaking. shaking. the outside sky was already a dark colour gradients of blues and purples. the lights were buzzing. everything felt like stroke lights… just as you squint, trying your best to focus… you started panicking. your friend. where did your friend go? you heart felt like it was punching against your ribs. you can just feel the panic trying to break through. yet it felt like it was getting smothered and muffled. ❛ where? ❜ you turban in a slow circle. the music that was playing, felt wrong. the melody was all wrong. the notes seem like a jumble, playing half notes, either a step fast or step slow. your tongue felt dead in your mouth as you started to walk. and every step felt like dragging lead across. you keep seeing things at the edges of the tents.

you can feel the panic climbing now. clawing its way up through the fog. everything felt like it was building in your chest. whatever you took, would not let your body match the terror. you felt so trapped. your phone? it was dead. you don’t even remember it dying. as two things were having a war in your nervous system. and you were definitely losing at both fronts. you were shaking and trembling. your vision kept tunnelling. as your arms were tightly wrapped around yourself. trying to put in the weight somehow. just as you continued to walk. you can see the food stalls. the scent made you so nauseous. the popcorn. the half eaten pretzels. the fried dough. everything just felt like a dizzying mess.

and there… at the very end, sitting on a crate, talking to the one dressed in the blue suit and half masked. your friend. just as you sped up toward them, your gaze stared at the man. was it a glare? possibly not but the intent was there. the moment ticket taker spotted you, he was quick to politely bow to your friend before leaving, which only made your anxiety soar. what were they talking about? did your friend had no idea about how this circus was absolute bad news. just as you approached, your friend must have heard the sound of your footsteps, because they turned to look at you. their expression was neutral. mild. untroubled. utterly normal compared to you. ❝ oh hey, took you long enough ❞ your friend said. as they stared at you, with concern. ❝ you okay? you look kind of out of it ❞ they questioned. you looked at the food in their hand. half eaten. the drink in their hand, half finished.

❝ why… were you talking to that guy ❞ you asked, your friend who sat there eating. ❝ oh! i did a quick visit to the blue tent! it was extremely fun, just mirrors. he was outside the tent when i did a quick visit ❞ your friend answered, gulping the food. you stood there as you were trying to calm your mind. hearing how your friend was not aware the eerie feeling around the circus. you stared at your friend, pinching the bridge of your nose. ❝ you should stop by. it was just mirrors. there is quite a few people in there. it is quite calming ❞ your friend smiled. you stared at your friend and slowly trailed your eyes towards the blue tent to just looms over the circus… just like every single tent. it felt like you were in a forest, in a dark dark wooded area… trees loomed, the branches… they were trying to cover the sky. it was… enclosing.

❝ i… ❞ you were uncomfortable. both at the idea of leaving your friend again… but also going into the tent that from deduction? was ran by the man from the front. though, now you have so many questions… so many needed to be answered. why is it that everything seemed so… familiar yet so dreadful. like something is haunting the very ground. ghosts? some entity? you could not understand. and maybe in some sick way, you want to at least… get to the bottom of it. what can truly go wrong in a mirror tent? and somehow you thinking of that, it felt like you had just jinxed your future self. something can definitely happen. maybe one of the mirrors was a video or something. a mirage… before you had slowly nodded. ❝ i can go check it out ❞ you whispered. and seeing their smile, watching as they had patted your arm.

❝ it is just some simple mirrors ❞ they smiled. you stared, seeing the way your friend was being supportive… and well… you only came to make sure your friend didn’t end… up… you didn’t know what they would end up as. you nodded with a silence. before you slowly moved. still feeling the blur around the edges. softer. yet your mind and your heart was going in two different directions. your mind was soft, like a nice and… a little muddy… meanwhile your heart was racing at full speed. your heart was pumping in your chest. like you had ran a long marathon and had not yet stopped running. your hands was sweaty. ❝ wish me luck ❞ you muttered under your breath. forcing a smile on your face. as you quietly staggered towards the blue tent. trying to rationalise. you spent a lot of money on a ticket. it was right to visit all the attractions. just two more tents. and you can just leave and run away. never come back. just try to forget what you seen.

god. the sedative was still thrumming in your system. a slow river in your blood. and now you are here… wherever here was. you pushed through the flap. and inside… the world just fractured. mirrors. every surface was a mirror, well except for the ceiling, thankfully. the mirror was all polished. that made your reflection was clear. you stood there. you were seeing yourself… the multiplication was nauseating. and the tent was full. packed with people. and they don’t notice you. thats the first wrong thing…. and the second one? was the silence of it. you slowly blinked only to see that every single person… was almost removed. as if they were never there. you were alone in a tent of mirrors. you press your palms against your heart. grounding the technique. you close your eyes… before you slowly opened them.

still empty. still mirrors… still you, multiplied into meaninglessness. until you turned. the sound of a spotlight being turned on. a shadow appeared almost like a mirage merging from the fog. ❝ hm? my tent doesn’t usually attract that many curious souls… especially ones who seem so eager to run away ❞

and you did want to run away.

——————————————————————————

the cyan tent loomed. striped in a muted cyan and black… it looked like it was breathing in the evening wind. like the circus was pulsing like a rapid heartbeat. you stood there as you felt like the laughter around you sounded like screams if she listened to it wrong. you felt violated by the recognition. your memories, the ones you cherished while also mourned, was dressed in some little performance and presented in front of an audience. like someone had taken your story… their story… and hung them on a stage. lit in lights… selling tickets to tell the story that you held so dear to your heart. you stood there. everything felt so… wrong. muffled. distant… just wrong. your hands trembled. holding a pen as you started at the waiver form on the clipboard that was offered to you by a person clad in white. it was eerie. as you stared at the letters that blurred and jumbled. your hand on the pen felt so foreign in your own hands. 

your friend was settling onto a bench just outside. ❝ i’ll wait here ❞ they said gently. face masked with concern. ❝ you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to ❞ they reassured you. but you have to. this unbearable feeling. and the sensation that you were being watched… somehow you were hoping for an explanation… maybe evidence that you were not going insane. as you stared at the waiver. you stared and stared. the usual language of one, however… it felt like a contract for something so much darker. like if you were going to sign it, it would possibly be a death warrant. signing meant agreeing to whatever was in there… the pen shook in your hand. ❝ no… i will go inside ❞ you finally mustered. you signed it. your signature came out wrong, wobbly. not yourself. it was like an unfamiliar scrawl. as if someone was trying to forge your own signature. 

handing the clipboard back. you stepped through the canvas, into the dark. the lights were so dim that it was completely dark… hanging figures twisted in ways that made you feel sick in the stomach. you stood there, almost too scared to move your legs. then a scent hit you like a splash of water. familiar. beautiful… unsettling… too impossible to truly forget. it was the faint spice, clove? or was it cinnamon. it was faint beneath the sweetness that was reminiscent of honeysuckle. but then there were other scents that made you nauseous. the air felt sterile… but at the same time, it wasn’t. there was a scent of an attempt to clean with something ammonia based mixed with sanitiser. but it could never truly hide the lingering scent of blood. heavy. sharp. the coppery tang.

was there no end?

though as you stood there. the puppets? moved. the sound of cracking, a forceful movement of joints that made you wince. why did you expect to actually get medical attention in a circus that advertised horror? ❝ come closer, dear patient. don’t be shy ❞ the voice beckoned you closer top the chair illuminated by the red spotlight. then the dissonance of force. the eyes. god the eyes were turning towards you. all glowing cyan. just as the walk way lit up for you to approach. you wanted to turn. to say no. but you moved. approaching the towering figure. this was the closest you gotten to one of the performers. you could see how he looked. how he dressed. the plague mask which made you wonder if it was all for show or that he actually stuffed herbs inside to mask the… foul odour in this darkly lit tent. you were not sure. 

❝ don’t forget to roll up your sleeves, please ❞ the doctor had spoken once more. making hairs jolt up. you were hesitant. your eyes gazed around in the room. unsure if you can stomach what you had eaten. too much was happening at once. you felt like your hands moved. slowly pulling your sleeves up. rolling the fabric up one by one, your hands trembled and shook so hard, you lost count of how much you unroll and rolled it back again. slowly feeling the seat beneath you. sitting there as the gleaming bloodied medical instruments lay on a blue cloth… you were hoping and praying that that was just some fake blood. some prop. until an incense was lit. the scent… it was something you have experienced before… the faint clove and honeysuckle was much stronger. was that…. the azalea that you were smelling? it was masking the other scents. there was almost like a floral scent… something akin to just jasmine… perhaps a hint of something tropical… it calms your nerves more than you like to admit it. 

❝ you wanted to run off, didn’t you? ❞ he asked calmly. almost trying to reassure you. but it was true… you did want to run. but not in the case of running away from this tent… but running away from this entire circus that had done nothing but made you sick. the doctor took your silence as a confirmation but not aware of the many underlying reasons why you wanted to run away. ❝ it’s fine. no one really likes visiting the doctor ❞ he whispered. his gloved hands started to tie down your wrists. ❝ after all, there aren’t any secrets between the doctor and their patient, right? ❞ you started noting at the sharp points of his gloves. was this some type of cosplay? ❝ what… what are you doing? ❞ you were trying to heave through. but the incense was dulling your mind… lulling you to something nostalgic. something that had your heart slowing down. calming down. ❝ it’s part of the procedure. i don’t want you to freak out and run off ❞ he took a small pause. ❝ you could hurt yourself, you know? ❞ he pulled back after securing the ties. ❝ there are dangerous instruments in an office ❞

❝ on your file… ❞ he paused. you sat there. but the doctor was staring at the file silently. pensively as he read what was written down. what ticket taker had quickly jot down between the passing of the form between fool and doctor. ❝ it seems you are suffering from stress induced attack ❞ he finally spoke. tapping the page. ❝ a… a colleague of mine has directed you here, yes? ❞ he turned to you. you were silent. trying to listen, but you were too out of it. finding comfort in the incense that just reminded you to a time. but all you did was nod. parting your lips as you realise it was rude to not respond. ❝ yes ❞ your eyes watched as he tilt his head to the left. ❝ hmmm. don’t worry. i will be very gentle. i am your doctor. and i would examine every fibre of your being to see what is the cause of these… stressful moments, dear patient ❞

his hands moved. touching your wrist. pressing firmly against your pulse to check it. but all you did was lean to it. making the doctor slowly blink beneath. what a strange peculiar reaction. he slowly listened. counting the beats. it was slowly down. he had heard it then. when you stepped in the tent. your heart was thrumming to the roar of a drum. how your eyes darted around the tent like you were waiting for something to drop… for a body to drop. he remembered how your breathing was ragged. you were afraid. you were scared. the rushing of blood all over your body. god… it reminded him of… he paused. he stood there. it reminded him of them. but he was no delusional fool like pierrot… or was he? he leaned in, your fear tasted too much like theirs. and somehow he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you. 

but worth great effort, he pulled away. clearing his throat, psychology was a little outside his field of expertise. ❝ what is troubling you so? ❞ he asked. and you, who sat there, inhaling the incense that made you rock your head a little bit. this just felt like a therapy session… but a session that was much cheaper than you could get. for a ticket, that was at least half the cost of your actual sessions. leaning against the chair. somehow you were a little too scared at the idea of exposing that you believe if you said something along the lines of speaking of the belief you witnessed a murder in the pink tent… that the second performance made you yearn and crave the touch of people you were unsure were alive and well. to the third performance that was a grotesque retelling of something so sacred to your heart… and here you were, in one tent and two more to go.

the tent was quiet. well, as quiet as being surrounded by the sounds of on goers, muffled by the thick canvas. ❝ i keep… having this dream ❞ you spoke quietly. ❝ well.. it is not like a dream…. it is more like a memory ❞ you wanted to place your hands on your lap. ❝ except it had never happened… or maybe it has happened. i don’t know ❞ no, you did know it happened. that newspaper article meant something, right? that you had experienced something… or were you trying to fool yourself. to hopefully make something make sense. your fingers traced along the groove of the chair. ❝ i am sitting with all these people… they look at me… but i know that i have to do this one thing. if i didn’t, they’ll all… ❞ you paused. you couldn’t truly finish your words. your eyes closed your eyes. ❝ one of them… they.. oh… they took initiative. and i don’t scream. i don’t even think about screaming at all. i just let it happen ❞ you slowly opened your eyes. watching as he stared at you. it was nerve wrecking with how you were not sure if he was blinking or showing an expression. 

❝ sometimes… some mornings… some times after naps… i wake up and ache ❞ you whispered. ❝ at your chest? ❞ the doctor had finally spoke. but you shook your head to answer him. ❝ no. not in one place… not like i have been hurt. it’s so much deeper… it’s so raw. like somethings been pulled out of me me and i can still feel where it was clawed out ❞ you let out a shaky breath. you winced when you realised you wanted to reach to your chest. ❝ and… i am so tired ❞ you whispered. the doctor frowned, not like you can see it. ❝ perhaps some melatonin would do good rest ❞ he didn’t have the qualifications to administer actual medication. but you shook your head once more at him. ❝ it is not the sleepy kind of tired… its just tired. like i have been trying to carry something for so very long… and no one notices… no one understands. no one ever saw it happen… it was just a dream they say ❞ you laughed… however, it sounded so exhausting. it was too thin and hollow. a sound that made the doctor choose to listen longer. 

❝ maybe i made it all up… maybe it’s just… ❞ you were tearing up. feeling frustrated. feeling angry at it all. ❝ i don’t know. like it was just some metaphor… for something stupid ❞ you wanted to cry. ❝ but it doesn’t feel like a metaphor. it… it feels like the truest thing that ever had happened to me… and somehow it is the most loneliest ❞ you whispered. clutching on the chair. there was some silence between the both of you and the doctor. ❝ does that make any sense? ❞ you asked in a quiet voice. your vision was completely blurry. and somehow you felt like you were talking in circles. you waited for his words. waited for what he may say. somehow you were expecting him to be like the others. the same doctors and therapist. that you had such an overactive imagination. that you were probably making everything up… that it was all dreams. that they were never real. 

that it was never real in the first place. 

but the doctor was quiet. ticket taker had written how you knew too much. the possibility that you were aware of what was truly happening behind closed doors. however, instead of getting an admission that you knew, instead… he was met with a dilemma. how was he supposed to approach this… how was he supposed to separate the feeling that you were someone he knew. he was silent. his hands had reached towards you. and for a moment those cyans had become red. ❝ you know… your fear… it’s just like them ❞ his hands trembled. was this the delusion that pierrot felt? his large hand cupped your cheek. his fingers were cool even through the gloves… it was not unpleasant. ❝ your heart pumping… just like theirs ❞ he leaned in. making your breath hitch there was something wrong with how the doctor was approaching this. 

his hand traced along your jaw, ❝ thump… thump… thump… thump ❞ his hands moved, rose ands fell like a metronome that he had memorised its rhythm. it was right. exactly right… too right. the heart beat that he had remembered with precision of something that he spent a very very long time listening to. while his other hand had held a syringe, it was quick. swift. a movement to prick and get you to calm yourself. ❝ the fear… oh the same fear… you wear it so beautiful, dear patient. i can smell it on you like i smelled it on them ❞ his hands returned back to your cheek. thumb tracing the curve of your cheek to your cheekbone. ❝ and your pupils…. ❞ he leaned closer. ❝ blown wide. just like theirs. looking at you now… i could almost pretend… ❞ his voice cracked. not with some emotion but it was something else. his hand paused. his thumb had stopped moving. 

❝ that you… are them ❞

he pulled away. ❝ but they are dead… no they still belong to us… belong to us who loved them to pieces… all the pieces ❞ he paused. ❝ fufu ❞ he laughed a little bit. ❝ i like you ❞ he spoke. before he had miraculously pulled a ticket. a cyan ticket. a special ticket. you were a little dizzy. watching as he had untied the bounds around your wrist. your gaze was staring at the ticket. there was no looming foreboding. ❝ what is this? ❞ you asked as he handed the ticket. his eyes were back to one of cyans. ❝ ale— ❞ you stared as you opened your mouth. until the white clad fool opened the entrance. almost like it was trying to relay information from someone else. ❝ hmm. i guess we would have to cut our appointments short… but i do hope you use my ticket, my dear dear patient ❞

however one thing remained on his mind… ale— what were you going to say?

——————————————————————————

it was not too long before your friend had reunited with you in front of the red tent. and you did not understand why they chose this tent when it was obvious you were still shaken up from the previous performance. perhaps it was for your sake. ripping the bandaid off. your arms wrapped around your waist, turning around slowly… steadily. almost aware of your surroundings. too aware. the air tastes like copper. something so familiar that the hair in the back of your neck raised. there was an itch in your hands. the itch that made you heave. the itch to scratch, to scrub. trying to mentally calm yourself was starting to become a hard feat. you continued to walk. your legs did not feel like you were carrying lead. it moved like it wasn’t yours. numb. carrying you forward into the red tent. even when your instincts were screaming and shaking you to stop. that something was truly wrong about this circus.

because what you saw… it kept replaying over and over again. the spotlight. the haze of it all. the choreography. it was seamless… until it involved the dove. the mocking bird. the fact, everyone had seen this act. or perhaps some version of it? you were unsure if the stories changed each day that passed. they watched the fool crumple. the crunch that sounded too real that it could have not been some kind of sound effect. you had watched it all. sick to your stomach. it was so deliberate. all you could hear was the applause. it was all around you. like some kind of sick standing ovation. someone hollered and whooped. all of them… and the shape… form… being discreetly dragged away. everyone thought it was just some dummy, some kind of prop… but you knew through your core that was not the case whatsoever. you who had witnessed death, no matter how many psychologists downplayed your trauma, knew with full certainty that you had watched a double homicide. watched it while everyone cheered for an encore. 

now here you are, your friend has betrayed you in the nicest possible way. you felt like you were running a fever. you were breaking cold sweat. you felt lightheaded. fear gripped your heart with a heavy hand. your stomach was clenching into fists. and your hands could not stop trembling. every time you close your eyes, all you can do is envision the crumbled up bodies. and no one believes you. not your friend. no one. they would just call it dizziness… maybe a huge imagination, something in your head. even when your friend tried to reassure you, you could feel it… you can sense that they did not truly believe it. their support felt hollow… but in a way, it was better than being dismissed of having an overactive imagination. gaslighting you that you have possibly watched too much true crime or you were too paranoid.

but the next show. the next performance. where you will be watching amongst the same crowd. how everyone including yourself would hold their breath… but you would be holding your breath for an entirely different reason. since you would be watching, you would be listening for every single drop. and that’s the worst of it. you had witnessed death. but the people around you would tell you of the impossibility of the truth. and here you were about to possibly watch the sequel of the haunting tragedy. finally finding the solid surface beneath you when you found yourself seated. your heart was pounding so hard against your chest, slamming. you felt powerless once again. seated amongst the others as you would witness another possible death. 

then when the tent was jam packed. it was quite the popular attraction. you chewed your bottom lip. you don’t even move when you felt a quick shove. there was a row seemingly left empty. the front ones. it was something you noticed in the last performance as well. you winced when someone behind you jostled your shoulder and didn't even apologise. but you were too out of it to care. then the tent lights cut out. you could hear how the gasps from the crowd that was vibrating with a need to watch. you glanced around, away from the centre ring. almost like you were trying to see if someone can see what you were seeing. but all in the darkness, you can just see how they were open and eager. innocent in a way that makes your stomach feel like it was bubbling. it was the fact they did not know… or did they not care?? or were you simply reaching too much. 

then a spotlight. you closed your eyes tightly. silently counting in your mind. your breath held. your head slowly… stiffly turned towards the spotlight. it was mechanical. you were waiting to see who… or what would be walking into that light. 

then in the blink of an eye, there standing in the middle of the spotlight was the man from earlier. he had a much different air now that there was a spotlight upon him. it was like he occupied the space, not in an arrogant manner. his feet planted on the ground, the same length of his shoulders. the way he breathes was slow… the rise and fall of his chest. there was some gravitational pull towards it. however, it was his eyes that searched the crowd until landing on you. and for a moment, his eyes seem to sparkle. those eyes that seem to gleam with a joy that you have not seen directed at yourself in so long. but it cannot be true. you cannot let yourself believe. you can’t hurt yourself over and over again. laying awake in the middle of the night… wondering, hoping… shedding too many tears that you have lost count. the painful ache in your heart that cried for them.

it would be selfish to put someone else on the pedestal of someone dear to you. putting them in the spotlight of expectation. 

pierrot stood upon the spotlight. the light catches wrong to his figure. it was complete silence before the music was quiet. almost too quiet like it did not want to take away from the performance. his movements were slow… almost like liquid. his hands moved. that you noticed the pointed tips. they were sharp… like claws. you were wondering what was going to happen. people said this was a physical attraction. it was when his fingers and joints were folding… like he had so many of them. watching as it became a bird. why was there so many bird analogies today.. but you sucked in your breath. shadow work. okay. that’s good. that is not scary. though you watched the shadow almost… come to life. wings beating with desperation. his hands moved, the spotlight followed. each feather, each wing that was the work of a simple contortion of the hand. watching it move around the tent, smooth. like you can hear the wings. like you can feel the wings when the light moves across the crowd, across you. like a gentle caress. then the shivers everyone was getting. 

however, you watched as the shadow plummets. making your heart ache. you watched as the shadow changed. to one of a figure. his? it seemed a little shorter. and you slowly realised that he was telling a story. pierrot moves. something almost like a waltz. the performer raises an arm, and his shadow steps forwards. a duet. it was beautiful. a choreograph of something so long ago. of remembrance. every movement was graceful… so tender and loving. like a performance practiced a thousand times before. it was a memory of a grief that you somehow believed you relate to. his body moved along his shadow like his heart cannot simply let go. the way they moved apart, how his fingers reached for the shadow. and the shadow followed in answer. the fingers almost like they were interlaced with one another. and you can hear the crowd exhale. watching this was a love story.

then you caught the scent of something familiar. pierrot faltered. but remained stead fast. you turned towards the direction towards the scent. jasmine. you momentarily saw something green disappeared from the canvas. only to turn back to the performance. watching as he and the shadow turned. how he spins the shadow. how it moved with something so fluid, like it was life. alive. something that was defying physics all together. how the shadow was blurring at the edges into almost smoke. it was mesmerising. you watched him lower the shadow. then the mood shifts, how he watches as he crumbles. his body folds around the shadow. watching the shadow crumbles alongside him. not in the way you had seen, or heard from the previous tent. not with blood and bones. but the way a shadow crumbles when the light changes. dissolving the edges… becoming less of them… an absence. 

you held your breath. watching as his hands clutch at the dissolving form. his claws close around nothing, again… again… like the beat of a heart. of one he tried to remember. you watched him gather the darkness again… bringing it to the shape. but it slips again… and again. and then the shadow was gone when the spotlight was finally directly on him. finding him… kneeling in the sawdust. arms wrapped around nothing. and the shadow… his shadow loomed over him. behind him. you watched as he shook. like he was trying to hold something that wanted to break in front of so many people. but he chose not to. the crowd was silent before it erupted. cheers. it was art. you could hear people calling it beautiful and it was a performance. an amazing act and show.

but you didn’t think it was not a show. you saw his mouth form words… you were not sure if it was a sob or a name. you could see how the performance had truly ended and the grief replaced it. your heart ached. watching him now rising from the sawdust. turning towards the crowd. pierrot stared at the audience. bowing down theatrically. however, his eyes had found yours again. his hands shook. like he wanted to walk towards you… to pull you close to him. and you did not understand why… why he looked at you like you were something so precious. something he needed to protect… something he needed to keep safe. you were unsure and scared if you should be worried for your being, or feel this heavy load of expectation this one was placing upon you…

you could not tell. and somehow you did not know if you wanted to understand it more… or not. 

——————————————————————————

he had been wrong too many times… too many he could not count. humans he had followed. studies. approached with shaking hands and trembling hope. only to find things wrong. he had believed every time he found someone that it was you. it had to be reincarnation. transmigration… recursive souls. something he had read to bright hope that his beloved was never truly gone. waiting to be found in the billions. a new face, a new life where he would kneel down and vow to protect you. but no one has truly fit in the puzzle quite right. not in the way they acted. not the way their eyes shimmered. but this was so much different. he watched. he watched you throughout the performance. how your eyes wavered… how you shook before you entered his tent. he had to stop that ache. to cradle your weary soul that has been through so much…

so he changed his performance completely. a declaration of love… but harlequin had definitely noticed the change. he was going to report it to the others. pierrot was delusional once again. that this is the same malfunction. it was just his grieving mind that was looking for signs… trying to find patterns in a single person. that this was just a hallucination.. even if in the cold rational part of his mind told him this can’t be them. even then, he was starving… starving for a hundred years. something in his mind was telling him that this time… this time, it was real. it was them. it was finally you. 

❝ pierrot ❞ 

pierrot chose not to turn around. standing in the backstage of his tent. he could not. ❝ pierrot. please ❞ the voice belonged to the usual mocking and teasing harlequin. but it was devoid of the teasing. the taunting. harlequin, the one who had ended them with his hands… pierrot knew, he knew that it was not his fault. it was an act of mercy, to die a slow death or one that was fast and quick. but the pain that tore out his chest, that harlequin was still to blame… even when it was too late. too late to save them. harlequin’s hand settled on pierrot’s shoulder . which pierrot had shook it off with a violence that did not surprise harlequin. ❝ don’t. ❞ pierrot said even when he could see the hurting in harlequin’s eyes. even when he knew that harlequin was going through the same pain that he had, maybe on the same level. ❝ do not tell me this time… i know what you… and everyone will say ❞ pierrot’s voice scraped out of him. clawing up his throat. like a dead man desperately crawling out of the grave. the interventions… the pain and aggression that followed soon after when it was just not them. 

❝ it’s not them ❞ harlequin forced it out of him. even when he was a hypocrite himself. ❝ it is. ❞ pierrot snapped at harlequin. but the green clad figure stood there. watching how pierrot practically snarled at him. ❝ pierrot. ❞ harlequin trying to stand between pierrot and the exit. it was a bad idea. their fights tend to end in bloodshed. ❝ listen to yourself! you say this every time. in one city, in another. in every show when some soul does something remotely like them. a certain angle. and every single time— ❞ harlequin’s voice cracked, even when he tried to recover himself. ❝ this time is different ❞ pierrot spoke… convincing himself as he falters. ❝ it is never different, pierrot ❞ harlequin tried to reason with one of their emotional ones amongst this messed up family. pierrot turned to harlequin, and harlequin could see the war behind his eyes. 

❝ they are dead. ❞ harlequin whispered. it was not to be cruel. never in their memory. it was just true. ❝ we held them. they bled. we all listened to them stop breathing. and then we— ❞ harlequin remembered what had happened afterwards. it was a cruel reminder of the cruel mercy. ❝ do not. do not say it ❞ pierrot’s fist clenched tightly. standing there, shaking. grief. anger… a complex mixture of hope that pierrot tried to keep a tight hold on. harlequin closed his eyes, turning away from him. ❝ pierrot… they are gone. there is no body to return to. no soul to be reborn. no such thing as reincarnation or transmigration or whatever your mind had conjured to keep you sane. ❞ 

❝ you do not know that. ❞ pierrot croaked.

❝ i know that you have been chasing ghosts of them for over a century ❞ like himself, harlequin was just as much of a hypocrite as pierrot. chasing visages of them. humming a tune that reminded him of them… it got so bad that even jester had to put a ban… he was no different from pierrot even when he claims he isn’t. that he had moved. throwing a facade, a mask to hide what was the grief that constantly bubbled deep within his chest. 

❝ their hair is not the same. their hands are not the same… ❞ harlequin tried to target towards their outward appearance. ❝ souls do not carry the colour of hair. and bodies change. forms change. quim. we know this. we as creatures in this form know this ❞ pierrot placed a hand on his chest. pierrot was already near tears and harlequin had winced at the name used on him. ❝ you are breaking your own heart. every night… in every stranger. you cannot keep doing this ❞ harlequin’s voice quietens. his hands gripped pierrot’s sleeve. shaking himself. he missed them too. he missed them terribly so. in the end, it was like raising a mirror and arguing with himself. pierrot had brushed harlequin off. ❝ then what do you want me to do? forget them? let them fade… pretend they were not the reason why we are alive…they gave every remaining moment of their life for me… for us… what did i give them back ❞ pierrot’s voice cracked. 

it was silence between the two. looking back at each other, seeing the grief between them. ❝ we loved them too, pierrot. we love them still. we will always love them… but this is not love. this is something else… this is just you refusing to let them sleep ❞ it was the last thing harlequin could muster up to say. yet, he knew what pierrot was going to say. he knew because nearly every single one of them… approached this wildly differently. but he knew that every one of them grieved over the loss of them. so the words out of pierrot’s mouth would reflect that.

❛ i cannot ❜

❝ i cannot ❞

two words. that echoed one another. one through one’s lips. and the other through the mind. ❝ quim… just go… go back to your tent. just leave me be… your show is starting soon… ❞ pierrot turned away from harlequin. leaving both in an internal turmoil that both had a hard time truly letting go. and pierrot, in all his twisted beliefs, believes you are them… and they are you. no matter who told him otherwise. he just has to make sure of it. he had to confirm it. but deep inside, he believes it’s you. even if a part of him, the one that has been swayed by harlequin, says otherwise. 

——————————————————————————

the sun had disappeared over the horizon, leaving the tent submerged in darkness. the only light source that flickered from the torch that was strategically placed outside the tent. the flickering flame seemed to dance, reaching to the skies like it can be one with the sun that had long had set. his purple eyes narrow, at how it sways. how it wavers. it snaps and crackles like sparks of open and loud defiance. the wind assisted the flame, fanning it. adding the air it needs to continue to light, to continue to live. the breeze being so gracious to open the flaps of the canvas, to allow air to circulate. the air felt like a heavy warm blanket. even with the breeze, it did so little to cool him and the slumbering others. however, it was something he was used to. but he remains awake amongst the others that he had called and deemed family. why? to think. to look over every nook and cranny of any issues will arise during their possible escape. amethyst laid awake, subjected to his racing mind of possibilities, to conflicts to the possible failures… 

his eyes clenched, feeling restless. as the familiar scents and sounds only dulled the headache that want to linger. the scent of night blooming blossoms pumped out scent to attract insects. coffee beans that had been left, forgotten, roasting in clay pots and pans over fires that had long fizzled out. tobacco and sweat permeated the air, leaving the rancid scent of chewed tobacco and sweat over workers and slaves. the cicadas screamed through the night. ringing through the night, making it a common sound of the tropical landscape. it could be almost maddening… the whine of mosquitoes not far but he did not pay it any mind. the birds that seem natural in it’s habitat. a guttural rumble that was reminiscent to a roar, to the screaming kraws’ across fields and rivers. it was truly a symphony of the natural world around them… and it was at most, the most familiar he had gotten in this hellscape that stunk of humans. it was an orchestra of dissonance. 

then… the familiar soapy scent tickled his nose. his eyes jolt open. a shadow loomed over at the entrance. wary. his gaze turned towards the one that stood at the flap. looking exhausted. your eyes were red rimmed… almost hollowed by the nightmare that must have plagued your mind. the remnants of dried tear tracks that traced down paths down your cheek. a sheen of dried sweat that made your usual glow, more clammy. oh, how your shoulders curled forward. arms tightly wrapped around your body, like you were holding yourself together. your hands were stiff. his eyes narrowed… your hands scrubbed raw. a habit that their cyan eyed friend had noted. your hands were intensely red… blotchy. your fingertips were pruned, possibly from constant cleaning. your knuckles were cracked.. the back of your hand was chapped. stopping just at the wrist. 

❝ caretaker ❞ his voice had clarity that had you wince. his clawed hands reached out, beckoning you closer. you stood there, you had woken up in cold sweat. remembering the viscous thick sensation of blood on your hands. hallucinations. it always felt so fresh in your hands. it never dried out. it does not fade. it was a reminder of lives that you had taken. even for the good for them. the blood is always pungent. even when no one could even smell it. but to you, it might as well be there. you could always seem to smell it in the dark of the night, when there was nothing for you to do. nothing for your hands to work to forget. even pressing your palms together in a gesture that once was a prayer, a wish… now felt stained and tainted. because of this, sometimes sleep was an impossible feat. the mental deterioration that eats away at your consciousness. 

but you followed at his wordless command. your steps slow. sluggish. like you were trying to learn how to walk even when you did find yourself walking towards the most dangerous part of this place… however, it was not dangerous. it was safety. it was the lull of a lullaby that rocked you. a need to be in their presence, to remind yourself that what you did was for them. ❝ did you have a nightmare? ❞ he asked, once you were already seated by his cage. you could only nod. tired, you were mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. ❝ i am so tired, amethyst… ❞ your voice croaked. sounding raw. and his gaze upon your form that had been trembling. persistent. your arms still wrapped around your body tightly. pressing tightly against your torso. flat against yourself to warm… to hide… to absorb the taint that was mentally tattooed on your hands. 

amethyst remained quiet. you were too trusting of them. always walking into the jaws of those who wouldn’t hesitate to snap your neck… yet, he believed he may have gotten too soft himself. he had no words of advice. humans and monsters were so different… yet at the same time, they can be alike. that was always something he had a hard time coming to terms with. ❝ there was, once… a group of performers. they… were not very good at being performers. they were large and terrifying. they had big teeth and claws so sharp… however, even as performers, they lived in a dark place. ❞ he paused. mentally cringing at his lack of story telling skills. ❝ under the rule of a tyrant who used them like fools. and they followed orders. even then, they were sad, cold… and constantly starving. but they did what they were told as they were shackled down, weak at the mercy of the their owner ❞ his mouth pressed in a thin line. and he can see you were typically not enjoying this story. this narrative he was allowing you to envision. 

❝ but suddenly a royal appeared. the royal was not supposed to be there. they are usually not supposed to be amongst the darkness and harsh conditions of the performer’s living quarters. royals had better, important things to do than to be amongst the monstrous performers ❞ he spoke. grazing his claw along your shoulder. ❝ but the royal was lost. so the royal try to befriend the performers… and to the performers… the royal was bright. it was not like the brightness of the sun, where you have to squint. it was bright and… gentle. like the morning light of dawn, where everything looks softer and kinder ❞ his finger stroked your hair. feeling you slowly relaxed at the introduction of another character. ❝ the royal befriended them, lowly performers. they would constantly escape their opulent home to spend time with them ❞ his eyes gentled as he could see your eyelids grow heavy. ❝ the performers realised they deserve better… the royal… they saved them by noticing them, feeding them…talking to them… not like the heroic stories ❞

he closed his eyes. trying to vision it. ❝ ❛ come with me ❜ the royal had said. and just like that. speaking of the warmth of the sun, delicious fruit that would drop from trees. oceans they could have fun at… so they left. escape from the grasp of the tyrant in the dead of night ❞ he whispered. ❝ and the world they have seen before was… much brighter. a sky of endless possibilities. they travelled together, the royal abandoning their duties. they walked through forests. crossed rivers. played amongst the sand. they slept in beautiful meadows full of flowers. i do not know what they were travelling towards… maybe they didn’t know it either. they were not cold anymore. they were not forgotten… they were happy …and they lived happily forever ❞ he simply cringed at his rather mediocre tellings. it had so many gaps in its story. cliche turns. questions of why would a prince or princess ever leave luxurious lifestyle to live a life of travel. 

though his purple gaze watched your eyes closed. your body slumped against the metal. his knuckle trace along your cheek. he hated humans. it was not a casual dislike or a preference. it was hatred that buried deep into the ground. roots so strong that could never be weeded out. he hated their noise, their cruelty that was dressed up as civilisations and empires. he hated how they burnt things… burnt so many things. casting him and his family as the monster in their stories. but here you were. his hatred did not erode away. it only created a pocket… a bubble to separate you to the cruel humans. since hatred of this magnitude did not subsides. you… he had found himself beginning grow fond of your presence. that your presence was now a home for him and the others. this human was not fire. ithey were sunlight through the cracks. 

as he continued to trace their features, combing their hair. he traced every curve of what you were. from your upper lip, to the bridge of your nose. like sculpting you into his memory. he could see the way your eyelashes cast shadows. and he could see the way your breathing was steady. in and out. he continued to trace. the line of your jaw. along your neck… his hands that could squeeze, strangle… easily killing a human… had trembled lightly. his hand cups your cheek. and then… you smiled. in your sleep. not any big smile or grin. just something small… happening while his hands held you like you were a treasured being. he was reluctant. but he slowly pulled his hand from your face. and so he sat in the dark. listening to the breathing of his brethren… focusing and zoning to yours. he could not sleep. perhaps he chose not to sleep. 

he just watches you. and then he finally thinks. ❛ you. you are the fire that i was not supposed to love… no. calling you a fire is an insult. you are the sun. and i want to be where you are… i love you. i will always love you in the morning when you come through the entrance. i will always love you in the evening when you are getting tired. i will love you when you laugh… so graceless and crass… but a sound i will treasure… i will protect you… your sleep… your crooked little smile… i love you… i will protect you… always ❜

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he was seated in his tent. his hands holding a brush, brushing his long purple locks. the scent of the coppery tang was strong, another one. another human. life that flickered away. the familiar scent of you continue to bloom in his personal tent. he stared at his pale masked form. his mind once again, disobedient, wanders. wondering if you would be happy with what they were doing? you have been long gone now that he feared that he may have forgotten what you had wanted. what you cared for. he let out a shaky breath. no. you would be happy for them. you would have wanted them to be happy and healthy. you would have wanted nothing but for them to ❛ lived happily forever ❜. the brush slowly moves through his hair. the tent was quiet, except for the sound of his brushing.  

as he thinks of your memory. he thinks of it constantly. treasuring and guarding it. like it was something truly sacred. like something that could be stolen by disgusting humans that was willing to desecrate your beloved memory. he… does get a little fidgety whenever someone mentions of you. how he goes very still. but smile it through. he does not correct anyone. he cannot. because if he were to correct them, it would mean he would admit of his belief that he knew you better. somehow know you better the rest. so he choose to be quiet. to keep the moments between you and him as knowledge buried deep in his private and sacred mind. however, he will always listen. he will listen with the intensity of a scholar ready to sort through the errors. the other monsters who had figured out about your gentle soul… hearing the misinterpretations, like they were speaking of some story than you. 

they were getting it wrong. they were getting it all wrong. and he had snapped. he had hurt monsters and humans alike… the monsters who speak carelessly… who reduced you as a character in a story than someone who had lived and breathed… the humans that managed to retain themselves… making jokes of their beloved. it was not only him that acted like a guard, a sentinel of the memory of you. he knew you would have not wanted this. you would have just told them to ignore them. oh… reminding how you were a human. 

but jester was not a human. he can never be a human. he can only guard and protect your memory with the tools he had. and his tools were his calculative sharp mind, his claws… his teeth. and soon the brush stills.

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