Mutatus

by Ally Vance

  I make my way through the crowd of parked trailers, each housing a weird and wonderful member of my chosen family. It’s the middle of the day, so everyone is out and about, wandering around and running their daily errands: cooking, making repairs, or preparing for the night’s performance.

  I smile at Wren as I walk past him. He’s sitting in the shade on the steps of his trailer, away from the glare of the sun. It’s hot for everyone at this time of year in Santa Monica, but it’s worse for him with the weight and thickness of the fur covering pretty much every inch of his body. His nudeness surprised me at first, but once he explained the reason he forgoes clothing, I understood. He may be a man, but he embraces his animalistic appearance, and his thick fur is all the clothing he needs. After all, a dog wouldn't wear clothes, so why should he?

  I walk slowly up the few steps to Needles’ trailer and knock. After a few moments, she answers and beckons me inside. Entering the trailer she shares with Crispin, I step into a colorful cave of material, costumes, and all the embellishments an artist like her could possibly want. I’m confident she’ll be able to create something special for me.

  “Hi, Needles, I need your help,” I begin, and she raises a hand to stop me before I can continue.

  Her eyes gleam with the challenge I’m setting her, and it’s at times like this I’m almost certain she can read my mind. She nods her head toward her trailer door, and I don’t need to know her thoughts to understand that she’s telling me to get the hell out. I obey because I’m certain she knows what I want even better than I do. Plus, I wouldn’t put it past her to turn me into one of her masterpieces with the needle and thread she wields like a weapon if I piss her off.

  I leave her trailer with a smile and go to visit Yager. He’s practicing his performance, and even now, I still can’t quite watch without wincing. He’s injured himself several times, and every time it scares me because he doesn’t seem to realize just how serious it is. He won’t go to Darryn to be patched up. Instead, he insists on only coming to me or Needles. In spite of my own pain and my own demons, it warms my heart to be able to offer that kind of comfort to him, knowing he trusts me.

  We have a special bond, and a close friendship...he’s my closest friend here. He arrived just after I did, and I don’t know why, out of everyone in our family, he chose me as his best friend. It’s not easy with him at times; the constant fear that he’ll hurt himself beyond repair terrifies me. Ever since I watched the horrific beating he invited during his first performance here, I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do that to himself again. Yager Gates is doubly special, and as soon as I got to know him better, we just clicked. I feel everything, both physical and emotional, and he feels nothing. A quirk of nature means he doesn’t experience bodily pain, and human emotions are foreign to him. It’s not that he can’t feel them, it’s just he doesn’t understand what they are when he does, so I help him. I’m not sure I do a very good job explaining most of the time, but he seems to understand.

  We’ve had a new member join us, a freak by the name of Indigo, but I can’t seem to drum up the excitement I usually feel at meeting someone new and having them join the little troupe of misfits I call family. Sometimes I find it hard to put on a brave and cheerful face, and I take comfort in the fact that Yager doesn’t recognize my enthusiasm toward greeting our newest member as fake. It lightened my heart to see my best friend’s interest in Indigo, but Yager still wants us all to test Indigo before we accept him among our ranks, and that worries me. Indigo is tall and rail thin with an obvious affliction, but that’s not what’s bothering me, it’s the cruelty in his eyes and his clear disdain for the rest of us that I find concerning. I don’t know where Ezra found him, but I’m already wishing he’d send him away.

  Yager and I spend the afternoon together, and the hours fly by. It’s easy to lose track of time when I’m with him, I find his company so relaxing. I think part of the reason is that almost everyone else is so damn careful around me, but he isn’t, and I appreciate that about him. Even Darryn is careful with me, and I know it’s because he’s looking out for me. However, Yager sees my wings and still doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. He’s always lifting me up onto his shoulders and carrying me around. The first time he did it I was so surprised I kicked him, not that it made any difference, because he couldn’t feel a thing, and we ended up laughing so hard at the ridiculousness of the situation.

  It’s nearly dinner by the time I leave Yager’s, and I hurry over to the food trailer to help prepare. We all pitch in here, helping out with chores, and assisting with meals is one job I’m able to do. While hurrying over, I pass the conjoined twins, Beau and Nox. As is customary, they are having a heated discussion. Nox pauses mid sentence to wave and smile in greeting, but Beau stares sullenly at him, wanting to continue their argument. Nox is a good friend of mine, but Beau and I have never gotten as close. It was strange at first having conversations with Nox while Beau eavesdropped. But Nox helped me get used to it, and unless I’m speaking with Beau directly, he ignores us.

  After the meal, I return to my trailer to prepare for this evening’s performance. I’m about to take a shower when I hear a soft, familiar knock at my door, and I answer it. Needles is standing on the threshold, holding a dress bag in one hand and with an expectant expression on her face. On her wrist is a pincushion full of needles and pins with colorful balls on the top of each one. I step back and invite her in.

  Needles sweeps past me, and grabbing me by the wrist, she drags me into the center of my trailer. She gestures for me to strip, and I quickly obey because she’s not above poking me in the ass with a pin if I argue. I still mostly wear halter-neck tops, but she fits and creates them specially for me, and I have different ones for each season. We travel a lot, but I’m always prepared wherever we go, thanks to Needles.

  She picks up the dress bag, unzips it, and removes the outfit, unveiling her latest creation just for me. I can’t stop the tears from falling, and I brush them away before giving her a hug, not caring that I’m wearing next to nothing.

  “It’s perfect, Needles. Thank you,” I whisper in her ear.

  Three

  Maia

  I’m standing near the entrance to the Big Top, just out of sight, watching the show unfold. The cacophony of sounds from the people enjoying the amusements and rides filters through the open, heavy canvas doors. I can see the colored lights spinning and twirling, creating a light show that illuminates the scene, and the warm, delicious scent of hotdogs, donuts, and cotton candy reaches my nose, making my mouth water.

  All of it pales in comparison to the faint sound of the ocean washing against the shore and lapping at the sturdy wooden and concrete beams holding the pier in place. This is one of my favorite locations, and I’m glad we’ve come back. I missed this place so much when we left last time. There’s so much life here, but this time, I intend to carry a part of that life and excitement with me when we eventually move on to our next location.

  I still need to get dressed for tonight’s performance, so with a final glance outside, I turn and make my way toward the area where the troupe’s costumes are stored. I spot Darryn helping one of the other acts and continue without attempting to draw his attention. It’s best not to distract him while he’s working. Nerves flutter rebelliously in my stomach the closer I get. I force myself to grit my teeth and take the last few steps to the rack bearing the costumes for the evening, and carefully thumbing through them, I look for the bag containing the dress Needles made for me.

  Finally locating it, I carefully unzip the bag and remove the dress. It’s truly breathtaking: a combination of black and red lace with silver and black sequins strategically sewn down the back and along the sleeve, giving the material a sparkling appearance. However, what really sets the costume apart is the delicate cloak made of see-through gossamer fabric with a faint shimmer of glitter. It’s been designed to drape very lightly over my wings without causing me discomfort and is the perfect addition
to the darkly magical ensemble.

  I’m a freak. I’m an abomination of nature by birth and disfigured further by the man who raised me. But tonight, I’m going to leave my past behind when I step onto that stage. Darryn will raise me up, carrying me away from the ground and the heavy thoughts that persistently weigh me down. Tonight, I’m going to soar through the air as though weightless.

  I carefully put on my theatrical outfit, and I’m about to return the empty costume bag to the rack when I notice a small black satin drawstring bag attached to the inside. I gently open it and let out a gasp on seeing the beautiful, hand-crafted mesh mask within. I shake my head, smiling down at it. Thank you, Needles.

  I quickly style my hair with a curling iron, tightening my short locks so they curl sweetly around my face before affixing the mask; I’m thankful for the strip of clear elastic holding it in place, which will be obscured by my hair. Finally, I apply a coat of sparkly, black lipstick to my lips, and I’m ready.

  Moving to the full length mirror, I check my appearance, and my mouth drops open in surprise. I look like a gothic Tinkerbell, but it’s not just the costume that catches my attention, it’s me. For once, I don’t hate the way I look. For once, I’m filled with something other than self-loathing. I’m not entirely sure what it is, though, and I wonder briefly if this is what Yager experiences when he tries to navigate the complicated mess that is human emotion.

  It’s almost time to entertain the waiting crowd, so taking a deep breath, I head out to find Darryn. He’s waiting for me with the harness, and once again his face is twisted with concern for me. I know he worries about my wings and the toll they take on my body, but I hate being reminded of them all the time. The wings are my burden; they shouldn’t be anyone else’s, and I feel much better about performing on stage here than when I was entertaining the sick perversions and twisted fantasies of my creator, feeding into the insanity coursing through his mind. Along with the other members of Carnaval des Ténèbres, I’m here to show the world that the strange and curious forms the human body can take are magical, beautiful, and perfect in their imperfection.

  “I’m not sure you should be doing this again so soon. You’re going to reopen your wounds,” Darryn says, frowning and pinning me with a hard stare.

  “Needles managed to stitch a support brace into this dress, so my body won’t be under so much strain when I move. I’ll be fine,” I reassure him, blowing off his worries.

  I know he’s right, but if I allow myself to dwell on it, I’ll start to lose myself again, just when I’ve begun to rediscover the girl I was before Dr. Waugh remodeled my body.

  Ezra’s announcement reaches my ears, his voice booming through the Big Top, and then the music begins, signaling my cue to start my act. I look toward Darryn who nods silently at me before he lifts me off the stage, and I’m soaring. The warm air swirls around me as I twist and turn within it, the wings on my back shimmering as though truly sprinkled with fairy dust. The full length mirrors installed at the back of the stage create a myriad of images of my form as I spin and dance through the air, carefully supported and directed by Darryn. The low, colored stage lights flash off the glistening sequins of my costume, throwing sparks of refracted light back over the watching crowd.

  I lose myself in the emotion, the music, and the intensity of my performance. I don’t dwell on the past, and deflecting the pain to a distant corner of my brain, I simply feel the music and the fluid, graceful movements of my weightless body. I’m alive, and as I’m floating and swooping through the air, I finally find a tiny fragment of peace.

  Four

  Darryn

  Maia is mesmerizing out there, and it’s difficult to concentrate on the harness and pulleys instead of stopping to watch her. I’m responsible for controlling and guiding her progress, though, and keeping her aloft. She’s trusting me to keep her safe, and I don’t intend to violate her fragile trust. As her doctor I worry for her health, but her discomfort from the previous night seems a distant memory. It’s plain to me that Needles has done an incredible job on Maia’s costume for this evening, and I can see the almost euphoric expression on her face as she moves across the stage.

  I’ve been with the Carnaval des Ténèbres for ten years, and throughout those years I’ve met many strange and wonderful people but none have captivated me as much as Maia. She believes she’s deformed because of her incredibly petite stature and wings, but I think she’s beautiful. I know she hopes that one day I, or some other doctor, will be able to remove them and restore her to her former self, but it’s simply not possible.

  I inspected them when she first arrived here eight years ago, and again when she asked me if I could do anything for her. My answer was the same both times, but in spite of my refusal, she persisted, and eventually, I accompanied her to the hospital to ask their advice. The x-rays they performed finally revealed the full extent of what that bastard, Dr. Waugh, had done to her. He’d inserted pins and rods, similar to the ones used to treat broken bones in hospital, to set the wings in place and had wired them around her upper ribs. How he’d managed to do it without killing her is a medical miracle, but I know she wishes she’d died during the process. As far as I can tell, he somehow managed to graft them to her back using human skin from her own body and human bones that must have come from other people because they definitely didn’t come from her.

  The doctor was a lunatic and one fucked up individual. He not only ruined her chances at normality, but he also significantly traumatized her. I just pray she was unconscious during the procedure. I can’t even begin to comprehend the horror of what she suffered, but I can imagine how much worse it would have been for her had she been alert throughout.

  Her wings aren’t fairylike in the traditional sense; they are bat-like in overall appearance because of the way the doctor used her skin, stretching it over the skeletal structures. They don’t take anything away from Maia’s allure, but she believes she is hideous, and so even though I’ve told her numerous times that she’s stunning exactly as she is, she’s convinced they’re empty words meant to soothe her and nothing more.

  I came here with my older step-sister, Sammie, after we left home. She wanted a fresh start; a place where she’d be accepted, and I could help her. She was lucky that her condition didn’t entirely compromise her mental development, but she was the reason why I studied medicine. I now have some practical knowledge and skills alongside my Medical Degree, but at the time she approached me about moving here, I had barely begun my studies in a specialist field.

  Sammie had microcephaly, giving her what is more commonly referred to as a pinhead, but in my eyes, she was always my pretty older sister. Apart from the most obvious difference between us, looks-wise, we still shared a familial resemblance with our tall, slim builds, matching dark brown hair, and hazel-colored eyes. I never considered her outward appearance to be ugly or deformed; she was my older sister, and all I saw when I looked at her was family.

  I didn’t care she was different to everyone else, and I loved her enough to uproot my life when she asked me to. I moved with her to Carnaval des Ténèbres, and even though she passed away a little over a year after we joined, I stayed. I didn’t want to leave the place where she’d been the happiest I’d ever seen her, and so I built a home and a life here among my incredible adoptive family.

  As the music draws to its close, I use the pulleys and ropes to gradually lower Maia, so when the last note of the piano echoes, Maia’s feet land delicately on the stage. I can barely see her expression due to the shadows thrown across her face by the lighting, but I’m just able to make out the faintest upward curve at the corner of her painted mouth. Maia leaves the stage to a raucous round of applause, and I feel a small bubble of pride swell in my chest. I’m proud of her.

  “Well done, Maia,” I tell her, quickly unfastening the straps holding her in place.

  She doesn’t answer right away, and I let her have her moment. I’m sure she’s just processing the magic s
he brought to the stage this evening with her performance. In the entire time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her so tranquil. The Maia who was dancing through the air tonight was a far cry from the one I first met.

  “Darryn, we need your expertise,” the powerful voice of Ezra Black reaches me through the door of my trailer.

  He’s got a presence that ensures he’s heard; he doesn’t even need to shout. When he speaks, we all stop and listen. The reality is that without him, none of us would be here.

  “On my way, Sir,” I answer, pulling on a pair of boots and a thick jacket to ward off the wind and rain of the tempestuous storm outside.

  I’m assuming he requires my expertise as a doctor, so I grab my medical bag on the way out. I open the door and come face to face with the man who leads us all, standing drenched in the rain. His hair is plastered to his skin, making the cutaneous horn protruding from his forehead more prominent than usual. The dark clouds and heavy rain do nothing to obscure or lessen the effect his piercing gaze has on me.

  The cold, bitter air bites at the exposed skin of my face the moment I exit the cosy warmth of the place I call home. Ezra heads in the direction of his trailer, leaving me to secure my door. I then hurry after him, aware of the urgency with which I seem to be needed and already eager to be out of the harsh weather.

  By the time I arrive, the trailer door is slightly ajar, and I venture inside. I’m curious as to the reason for the urgency. Injuries from minor accidents aren’t uncommon here, but it’s been some time since I’ve been called with such a pressing need. My eyes widen when I see the young girl shivering near the heater, but it’s not her bare skin, or the vicious red lines marring her icy-white flesh that instantly seize my attention…it’s the wings protruding unnaturally from her back. I can tell instantly she wasn’t born with them. They were made by human hands.