Blood Moon Big Top

by Toneye Eyenot

  “Yes!” Coming here hadn’t been a total loss. Marbles smiled broadly as he instantly recognised the words- JOHANN’S FAMILY CIRCUS. The circus had come to town and was to be here for the next two whole weeks. His journey had finally reached its destination, giving Marbles rushes of jumbled up emotions. He didn’t know how to feel, now that he had just about found what he had been looking for, since waking up two weeks ago in the morgue. All he could do was grin like an idiot, as he stood staring at the flyer. A childlike excitement came over him, and he placed the flyer back on the counter, and then ran through the house to the room he had entered, diving recklessly through the open window to land in a heap on the ground outside.

  “Hey! Who are you? What were you doing in there?” A man walking by had seen the dishevelled Marbles exiting the window, and was coming over to where he stood, with a purposeful look and threatening posture. As he got close, his face dropped as his eyes locked onto Marbles’ deathly stare. His shoulders drooped and his chest sank, as he stuttered some unintelligible drivel. Marbles launched himself at the dumbstruck man, barrelling him to the ground and landing on top of him. What covenant he had made with himself for discretion had been left behind in the forest, from the moment Marbles had first spied the lights through the trees.

  Without hesitation, the ravenous drifter swiped his massive, dirty clawed hand across the paralysed man’s throat, and bit down on his face, tearing the cheek away in his teeth. The man beneath him shuddered briefly, but put up no fight at all, as Marbles went in for another bite, then another. The blood leaked profusely from the throat and facial wounds onto the grass, as Marbles sat up and began tearing his victim’s body open with his hands. This now took precedent as the most frenzied attack to date, as Marbles ripped the man to shreds, stuffing huge slabs of savaged flesh into his mouth, whilst growling maniacally as he feasted. The meat tasted like pure terror on his tongue. He was in a murderous bliss, completely oblivious to all that was around him, and completely without caution or care.

  Once he had eaten his fill, Marbles rose from the corpse and ran off into the dark, toward another house. His hunger had abated, but his rage only grew. All rational thought had once again left him, and his urge to kill consumed every fibre of his being. Marbles hurtled through a closed window with a terrible racket and stormed through the house, only to find this one empty as well. The scream of fury that tore from his throat reverberated through the house, vibrating the windows in every room. He threw furniture around like it was nothing, screaming and hollering all the while, until finally, his rage began to fade. Marbles stood there, panting heavily, blood still dripping from his hands onto the floor. Slowly, the deep red faded in his vision as he returned to a calmer disposition, and then he heard it - Sirens. Not just one, but several, in the distance but approaching fast. He wasted no time in leaving the house, charging straight through a glass panel door into the backyard, and leaping the fence without pause, before disappearing into the night towards the bustling hub of the city.

  14.

  It seemed the city’s entire population were out on the town this night. There were people everywhere, the atmosphere was abuzz with a party-like ambiance, and Marbles stood on a crowded corner, surveying the scene with apprehension. People gave him a wide berth and cautious stares, but Marbles ignored their rude gawking. He must have looked a real sight, filthy and stinking, but people just assumed he was a homeless vagrant. If only they knew what he could smell - what he could see all around him. It was a human buffet, of which this unsightly stranger could pick and choose from to his heart’s content. The blood of his most recent victim was on him, but dried out and camouflaged by all the dirt. Slowly, he started to make his way through the crowds, scouring the area for signs of the circus. A fight broke out across the street, which immediately drew a crowd. Marbles watched with interest, until the fight also drew the attention of the police. Marbles turned his head quickly and hurried off in the opposite direction, turning down a side street and breaking into a run. People jumped aside out of his way as he ran; some even shouted abuse at him, but he ignored them and kept on running.

  It was the night before the full moon, and although Marbles was unaware of this significance, he felt the ebb and flow of his unsteady mind, and the rising tide of something terribly ominous. As if waking up in a morgue and going on a killing spree wasn’t life changing enough, tomorrow night would bring a change he couldn’t even begin to anticipate. He couldn’t even remember why it was so important to find the circus; he only knew that he must. Maybe it was a last ditch, unconscious effort to retain something of his former life. All those memories had now faded to vague and senseless recollections. He no longer knew who he was. He was just a killer now. A killer who ate people and even this didn’t faze him anymore. He had adapted to the entirety of his lot, and now perceived it as normal and right.

  Up ahead, at the end of the street loomed a small park. A generous scattering of trees throughout, Marbles decided, in a brief moment of clarity, he would head there and gather his wits about him, before continuing his search. It was beginning to get on into the night, and he was feeling unusually tired for this time. He wondered why. Perhaps it was just that he had made it so far, and could sense his journey coming to an end, after nearly two highly eventful weeks of travelling. He slowed to a walk, now he had put some distance between himself and the busy main street, and made his way to the park. At about halfway along the street, Marbles spotted a large billboard at the far end of the park. It was some distance away, but the advertisement it displayed was as plain as the big red nose he used to wear on his face. JOHANN’S FAMILY CIRCUS. He started running again; an excitement building in his chest…Marbles had come home.

  Upon reaching the end of the street, he could see the circus grounds through the trees. The show was over and the crowds had left. Only the circus folk remained, packing up for the night after yet another sold out show. Marbles stole into the trees and crouched down to watch. He recognised many faces, but resisted the urge to enter the grounds and make his presence known. Although he saw people who once would have welcomed him with a smile and a cheerful greeting, these people were strangers to him now. He decided to keep his position and wait. The trees gave him plenty of cover, and as he cast his gaze around the grounds, he spotted his old trailer, isolated off behind the animal cages. It was a lonely sight and Marbles couldn’t look away. He wondered if somebody had since taken his place in the clown trio and now occupied his old home. If so, they weren’t going to keep that position past this night. Marbles had returned and nobody was taking his place.

  After some hours of waiting and watching, the activity around the circus grounds began to die down until finally, all fell silent and still. He got up and slowly started towards the lonely trailer. As he got closer, the animals began to get uneasy and started a commotion. Tarlo was the first to emerge from his trailer, followed by Benito and then Clarence from their trailers. They tended to the caged animals, which had begun to make quite a racket. They all seemed genuinely spooked, which concerned and confused the lion tamer and two animal handlers. Marbles was out in the open but under shadow, where he stood still and watched the three men trying to calm the animals. They went from cage to cage; every animal in a state of near panic. As soon as they disappeared around the side of the cages, Marbles ran stealthily for his old trailer.

  The latch was still broken from when Giuseppe had snapped it, and the door sat slightly ajar. Marbles entered the trailer silently and pulled the door closed. It had been stripped bare of furniture, apart from the bed frame without a mattress. Marbles didn’t particularly care about that too much, but he went straight for the closet and opened the door to find his clown costume still hanging there; his wig, his massive black floppy shoes, red nose and box of greasepaint on the closet floor. Marbles smiled and pulled his suit off the coat hanger in a mild haze of nostalgia. He bunched it up in his hands and lay down on the floor, placing the clown suit under his head for a pillow.
Marbles fell straight into a deep sleep, and didn’t wake again until just after midday.

  When he did awaken, he opened his eyes to the commotion outside, and lay there listening as children screamed and laughed. Machines whirred loudly with the carnival rides in full swing, and a multitude of voices clamoured to be heard above the din. Nobody disturbed the trailer, tucked out of the way behind the animal cages, housing a host of distressed beasts. The animals knew what was lurking in the trailer behind them, even before Marbles himself knew. All he knew was that he felt dreadful. His entire body ached with exhaustion and his head pounded with the noise outside, which sounded as though he were right out there in the thick of it. He put it all down to the preceding weeks finally catching up with him, now his long and brutal journey had come to what he perceived as an end. All he could do was lay, curled up on the trailer floor, wallowing in the miserable pain.

  As the hours progressed, the noise outside blurred with the terrible racket that was going on within his own mind and body. Marbles was sure he was once again dying, but he didn’t care. He was having an epiphany of sorts; plagued with abysmal feelings of guilt and remorse at the monster he had become, death was welcomed. He only wished now that it would hurry up and take him, this time for good.

  Nearing five P.M., Marbles felt as though his blood was boiling and frothing in his veins. His very bones felt like they were expanding and contracting with each breath he drew. The soft satin of his costume beneath his sweat drenched head clung to the side of his face, and he decided if he was going to die here, he wasn’t going to die as Kendrick the pathetic drifter. He was going out as Marbles the fucking Clown.

  It took every ounce of his will to simply sit up, but he managed. His lead filled arms struggled to straighten his costume and lay it out on the floor before him. His stomach churned violently and he heaved over and over again, as he removed his boots with ultimate effort. Sliding his feet through the top of the one-piece suit, something about the soft feel of the satin on his feet triggered his stomach, bringing his last meal hurtling up his throat to jettison from his mouth. Inch by inch, he pulled the clown suit up his legs, covered in the digested remains of the fool who had disturbed him on the city outskirts. He fell onto his back as he continued to pull the suit up his legs, and a strange sense of urgency overtook him. He struggled and shimmied his body into the suit in somewhat of a panic; in what could only be described as a reverse claustrophobic feeling. The more he got into the suit, the more panicked he became, as though time were running out and he simply had to get it on him before he died.

  The all-consuming hunger he’d grown so accustomed to had been strangely absent since he had awoken earlier in the day. In its place, was only pain and a nauseating discomfort. Once he had managed to get his arms through the sleeves though, Marbles felt a cold sweat, accompanied by feverish chills that racked his entire body. The task of simply putting on his clown suit had taken up the better part of an hour, but now it was on, Marbles began to feel some of his strength returning. He was recalling that sense of transformation every time he donned the suit in his former life. He still felt violently ill, and everything still ached like hell, but he was able to stand and retrieve the greasepaint and his skull cap with its bright green mohawk wig.

  If getting the clown suit on had been a struggle, it was nothing compared to trying to pull the wig over the matted, thick mess of hair on his head. He finally managed, but not without leaving a massive tear down the side of the latex skull cap. It sat askew over the hair, making his head a grotesque, elephant man type shape. Next, he opened the box containing his paint and took out the white. Scooping a heap out in his fingers and lightly rubbing his hands together, he smeared it thickly all over his face and through his filthy, tangled beard, grabbed the blue, and took it with him over to the dirty wash basin mirror.

  The sight of his reflection made him recoil in horror. Marbles looked like the stuff of a demented man’s nightmares. His lopsided wig with hair bulging out from beneath made his head look huge, along with the ghostly face and white painted beard giving him a grossly elongated looking chin. The front of his suit was splattered with the regurgitated remains of his last victim. He stared at himself with revulsion for a full ten minutes, while the white greasepaint dried on his face. Snapping himself out of his trance, he picked up the thin brush and dipped it into the blue paint. Carefully, he outlined the markings around each eye, and then began to fill them in. It was the neatest, most care-taken aspect of his entire guise, which made him look even more macabre. Fixing the moulded, red rubber nose, the transformation was complete. Before him in the mirror, Marbles the Clown stared back in all his terrifying glory.

  Lost in the moment; a moment which stretched into several minutes of staring and studying the nightmare he had become, the loud trumpet blast of the opening tune which heralded the beginning of tonight’s performance, almost made the clown jump right back out of his disguise. The all too familiar sound of Johann’s booming voice through the loudspeaker, started with his well-rehearsed address of, “STEP RIGHT UP, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS! COME ONE AND COME ALL, TO THE GREATEST SHOW YOU WILL EVER WITNESS…”

  “Let’s go play,” he growled back at the creature in the glass, then turned and made his way to the door.

  The crowds milling toward the big top didn’t see the demented clown step from his trailer, into the approaching night, and then circle behind the cages… none that is, except one.

  “Look, Daddy! A clown!” squealed a little girl, pointing her cotton candy stick in the direction of the cages and tugging on her father’s sleeve. Senior constable Tom Bellisarius looked to where his daughter indicated, but Marbles had already disappeared.

  “Where, honey? I don’t see him,” he replied.

  “He was right there, next to the cage, but he’s gone now.” Little Penny sounded disappointed.

  “Never mind, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll see him again with lots more clowns, and lions and acrobats and… Come on, we don’t want to miss the start of the show!” Tom said with a little too much forced enthusiasm. He wasn’t a big fan of the circus, and especially not of clowns, but he was doing this for his daughter. It was his only weekend of visitation with her while the circus was in town, and the mother had insisted he take their daughter. Penny had been hounding her for weeks about it. He certainly wasn’t doing it for his ex-wife. He despised the bitch, after she’d left him and taken their daughter away with her, allowing him only one weekend - two measly days a month to spend with his cherished little girl.

  “Yes! Come on Daddy!” Tom trotted to keep up, as Penny dragged him excitedly towards the entrance to the giant tent. Marbles watched the last two as they entered the Big Top, and for the first time since the maniac had returned to the circus, his stomach growled with the all too familiar hunger.

  15.

  With the grounds now empty and the Big Top filled to capacity, Marbles headed for the service entrance around the back. He played the routine over in his head, as he prepared to give the people a performance that the survivors, if any, would never forget. He could hear the Ringmaster whipping the crowd into a new level of excitement, cheering emphatically as the performers entered the ring to greet them. Just before he reached the back entrance, the sounds from inside faded and gave way to the chirping of crickets. Night seemed to roll in with urgency, as if it wished to catch the clown before he entered the Big Top and escaped from her view. Marbles paused at this sudden change and looked to the sky – and then he saw her.

  The Full Moon smiled her malevolent brilliance down upon him, and the clown stood transfixed. For a moment, he felt odd, and then a terrible wave of agony rushed over him, causing him to drop to his knees. His eyes watered profusely and his vision blurred with a deeper crimson than he had ever experienced since awakening from his temporary death. In a blind, terrified panic, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled through the doorway into the tent, but it had already begun.

  His teeth lo
osened and dislodged from his gums into his mouth, and he spat them out onto the dirt floor with a mixture of confusion and fear. What the fuck is happening? He tried to run deeper into the Big Top, but it felt as though all the bones in his body loosened at once. He could see through a wavy ocean of red, the bright lights inside the ring up ahead and knew he simply had to make it in there, as if it were his salvation from whatever was happening to him. Staggering disjointedly, Marbles cried out, hoping somebody would hear him and come to his aid, but the roar of the crowd and distorted music which played inside the Big Top sounded miles away in the distance. It died down suddenly and was replaced by an even louder roar, as the blood whooshing through his body pounded in his ears to a fitful rhythm. He felt as though his head was going to explode with the relentless pressure, as onward he lurched. Marbles experienced a terror unlike anything he thought possible. His cries for help were no longer human sounding but a whining, mournful series of pathetic howls. His rational thoughts abandoned him, replaced with rage, poisoned by untold fear.

  By the time he had traversed the seemingly endless distance towards the ring, his body revolted and threw him to the floor, sprawling him through the colourful arch and into the ring. His dramatic entrance caught the attention of everybody inside the Big Top, and the cheering and delighted crowd fell silent. Johann gasped in the centre of the ring, as he recognised the clown that lay writhing on the floor and making a god awful noise. The entire company of performers who stood in the ring also gasped in shock. Wasn’t Marbles supposed to be dead?