The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Birdie
by Nina D’Arcangela

They said I was a misfit, but weren’t we all?

I wasn’t born into this life like some, I found it, or rather it found me. Too young to remember, I was told my parents left me by the side of the road with a note that said they couldn’t feed another mouth and they hoped God would send a kind soul to find me.

They were kind, just which kind. In truth, they were many kinds; a caravan troupe that performed for cash, booze, or food. When they rolled into a village or town, if they couldn’t con the locals, they simply stole what they wanted. So yeah, they were kind to me, but I wouldn’t call them kind.

I was placed in the care of a three-armed woman named Nell. She raised me until I was old enough to learn a skill and start earning like everyone else. I was small and hoped to be a sidekick. You know, the pretty girl who helped Tim Thumb with his props, or Galloping Glenda parade by on her trick pony. I think my favorite chore was helping the Bearded Lady comb out her hair. It’s not just on her face, it’s everywhere!

But that wasn’t to be. The Flying Gardonos, our high-wire act, needed another body for a new trick they were working on, so that’s where I ended up. My terror of heights not a factor for Mr. Baddy McFat Pockets who ran the show.

The Gardonos were nice people but they drilled sixteen hours a day. They would take turns running their individual routines, then the full routine with the whole ‘family’. It was tough at first, but their encouragement and kindness eventually got me through. I was bounding along that tensioned wire with ease, if not grace, by the time we reached London Town – that’s where Pockets said we’d bank the most.

Opening night inside the ratty canvas big-top was shaping up to be the real deal. Fancy ribbons were hung along with glittering balls reserved for big-money nights. They even pulled out the red carpets and laid them over the mud at each entrance so the finer people didn’t dirty their shoes.

I was caught dawdling near the back curtain—the performers’ entrance—and sent to help ready things for the others. That meant no dinner as punishment. But I was buzzing so much from excitement, I didn’t even care.

The sun began its decline just as Tim Thumb tossed me an apple to tide me over. He put his thick finger to his lips and made an exaggerated shhh motion with his entire body. I giggled all the way back to the trapeze troupe to finally gear up.

The show was going great. Plenty of ooos and ahhhs from the crowd, but everyone knew the Flying Gardonos were the real draw and we were the closers. Just a few more minutes and we’d be on.

The ringmaster cleared the jesters from the circle and introduced us with an enormous amount of flair. We all cartwheeled, flipped, and pranced our way to the center of the ring under the highwire net. Once we took our bows, the young men flipped into the net and reached down to help the ladies up. We all separated and headed to the poles we needed to climb. My new brother, Francisco, helped me up to the first rung and our part of the show began. We were magnificent. My new family and I flicking and flipping through the air. The shabby costumes dazzled from a distance; the crowd had no idea just how cheap Pockets was.

Being the smallest, I helped with catching lines and props when they were no longer needed. Then it was my turn to walk the highwire.

I climbed to the top platform of the support pole, pasted a huge smile on my face, and leaned as far over the expanse as my reach would allow. Listening to the crowd cheer, I slid one foot onto the wire. With balance bar in hand, I drew the other leg out and placed my second foot on the line. Just before I was about to begin crossing, the ringmaster reappeared far below.

The crowd had hushed, sensing the difficulty of my act, and Pockets was feeling greedy.

As the ringmaster began speaking, I could feel the tension build.

“Having a great time, folks? Oh, don’t worry about our little dove so high above, she was born to defy the pull of the ground. Exciting, isn’t it? Please take note of the gentlemen moving among you with their hats in hand. If you’d like to show our tiny bird a bit of appreciation, why not drop a coin in, eh?”

The other wireworkers kept their grins plastered, happy faces bring in more money.

“Why the hush, why so concerned? Our sparrow is as light as a feather and just as deft on the breeze. Watch as she crosses the wire high above. And because you fine folks have been such a delight to perform for, we’re going to make it more interesting.”

At this point, my muscles were beginning to shake from the strain, but showmanship was showmanship and this had happened before. They were milking the crowd for extra money.

“Tonight, just for you, our little lovely will perform her death-defying walk with no net. Drop it boys!”

I could hear gasps from the crowd, see the worried look of those on the platform opposite me. My nerves started to jangle, and my muscles began to shiver.

“Drumroll, please!”

I was terrified, or so it seemed. We’d pulled this grift countless times, and my job was to look scared – it got the crowd riled up. The rest of the family was in on it, too.

I began to slide my soft sole forward, followed by a wide sweep of my back foot, landing it in front of the other with perfect precision. Halfway across the length, I stopped to readjust and wobble just a little. I could hear more than one woman scream from below.

I continued my eternal shuffle, dropping the balance bar and feigning a near fall.

Men were hollering from below to stop this insanity, a matronly looking woman swooned.

“Hush now, let us not break her concentration.” He almost sounded sincere.

I began my slide and swing motion again. You could cut the tension with a knife it was so thick.

After an eternity and one more unsteady wobble, I made it to the other side. The crowd rose to their feet hollering and cheering. I stepped one foot back onto the wire for a dramatic bow, that’s when I heard a slight ping. The crowd was so riotous, I don’t think anyone else heard it.

Within a blink, the rope tore loose from its pinning point, taking its rusted fastener with it. My back to the platform, my balance leaning on the rope, all I could do was follow it to the packed ground waiting below.

More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Bent Metal

Where does reality end and dreamscape begin?

Woken each night by the sounds of screams and twisting metal, Lauren must relive the panic and fear of discovering her brother’s broken body on the asphalt. But each morning, she finds it’s only a dream… One she doesn’t want to keep having.

At what point does a dream become a nightmare, and a nightmare more than a figment of her subconscious?

Available on Amazon!