Clown Shoes
Every night he would recall the dark corridor outside his room. The shadows cast upon its walls, the muffled screams, the silhouette of a hand raising in the air and falling to its victim. He blocked out the rest. Because that’s when he would close his eyes and cup his ears tightly with his palms.
Sweat.
It was a stark difference from the colour and cheer of the circus. But that was in the day, in the night, there was no colour and there was no cheer. There were only more dark corridors, like the ones from his childhood, and more shadows. Long silhouettes of men fornicating behind the living quarters off to a distance, the faint groans, the creaking of the wooden boards. It was a different sort of hell.
But it was home. It had always been home. Though there was no sense of welcoming or warmth to it, it put something over his head, so therefore it must be home.
Home wasn’t so bad in the day time. It was only in the night and when he couldn’t sleep, which was the case more than half the time usually. But the days were filled with life and excitement. Men who fornicated with men walked tight ropes and jumped through rings of fire and did gymnastics and rode around on unicycles. Everyone was happy. Especially the children.
He did it for the children. Because their smiles and laughter made him feel warm and accomplished. He felt it made up for all the bad, for all the running-away-from-home and setting-things-on-fire and “accidentally”-stabbing-mom’s-boyfriend-in-the-hand-with-a-phillips-screwdriver. He felt at peace with the children. More importantly, he felt important. Needed. He was a spectacle.
And a freak, some might even say.
He pulled rabbits and white doves out of his hat. Yards of coloured handkerchiefs, coins from behind children’s ears (which they were allowed to keep) and even cut them up and put them back together. He could tell them which card they drew from a full deck — without even looking! He could start fires in mid air with a single snap of his fingers and make anything disappear. He was out of this world! He caused awe, and he made their eyes sparkle with wonder and inspiration.
He only did it for that. To feel the energy of the children. To feel alive for about half hour to forty-five minutes at a time. He was quiet then. And when he wasn’t performing magic, he’d be screaming, but he was still quiet then, too.
When his cheap tricks and routines weren’t being performed for the children, it was his mind that pulled the cheap tricks and routines. Shadows and blood and water dripping and screams and fire. He hated the fire. But that’s all he ever saw.
Everything was burning. The whole circus was on fire when he wasn’t performing magic.
“Hey mister!” yelled one of the kids during his routine.
He couldn’t hear him. He smiled as he set up the next trick, but in his mind he saw the violent flames of his childhood home.
“Hey mister magician!” yelled the little boy again. He caught his attention this time and stopped midway to look at the brown-haired child.
“Why are you wearing clown shoes?”
The children all began to take notice of the erroneous attire and all began to laugh rather violently.
//navk.
