dgray_man | Fanfiction: Warmth

Title: Warmth
Genre: Drama and general sadness
Characters: Allen
Summary: A short story on Allen's life in the circus

Don’t look at me!

The boy shuffled on his hands and feet to the far corner, protecting himself with the darkness. The ugly purple and green stripes just continued bouncing in front of him, the long black stick pointing right at his chest.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is a child which God has forsaken.”

Stop looking at me!

The curious faces pressed against the bars, searching wildly to catch a glimpse of the novelty. The faces protested angrily, moaning and roaring as the shadows continued to hide the child’s body.

“Oho! This little devil is trying to hide.” The purple and green stripes stuck his stick into the bars and hooked onto the rope tethering the child.

“Come out here!” The ringmaster yelled as he yanked the rope and pulled the boy into where the candles’ light could illuminate. He landed face first into the pungent and filthy hay.

STOP IT!

The boy tried to go back to the safe darkness but just one mobile arm was not enough for him to beat the strength of the ringmaster and the rope around his throat.

“See this! The devil’s child!” Purple and green stripes declared, arms outstretched like a proud artist showing off his art.

Men backed up, women screamed, their hands covering their own mouth to muffle the sound, some dragged their children a bit closer into their protective embraces. They whispered softly to each other, some making signs to ward off the imaginary evil. They glanced and pointed at the boy in the cage. They pointed at the blood red arm of an otherwise normal looking child.

“The arm of the Devil himself!” shouted the stripes.

The crowd roared and squealed in horror.

The child tried to stand but the rope, now pinned down by the walking stick kept him on the floor. He raised his head a little only to see the audience recoiling.

Don’t look at me if you’re so scared. What’s wrong with all of you?!

He used his normal arm to cover his eyes. He did not want to see the red arm either. Only that, unlike for the other people, that arm belonged to him.

********************************************

The circus deserves to die, everyone deserves to die, the whole world deserves to die!

The boy sat at the corner of the tent using pieces of damp rag to distract himself from the throbbing pain from the newly formed bruises.

Which was worst? Being stuck in a disgusting cage with little food and water or being an errand boy with a useless hand? Not that it mattered much to the child. He did not have much say in the matter in the first place.

The people have raised issues about him, the “Devil’s Child”. They brought matters to the church and higher authorities, accusing the traveling circus of forming contracts with Satan himself. The ringmaster, fearing prosecution and possible allegations of witchcraft, pulled the boy from the cell and made him do odd jobs instead of staying a sideshow display.

Especially that bastard Cosmos, he deserves to go to hell most of all.

The boy pressed another rag onto his face. Ever since he’s become the errand boy, he has also become the outlet for some of the members of the circus to vent their stress and anger. Anyone would have thought against thrashing a child, but those members did not.

No one loves me anyway. So everyone can just die.

There were footsteps outside the tent. Heavy footsteps.

Damn, he’s back.

“Allen! You little bastard! Where are you?! Get your puny little ass out here!” The boy cannot see the expression that clown was having now but whatever it was, it was probably a twisted and contorted red and white mockery of a human face.

Leave me alone.

The boy gathered up the dirty rags, contemplating stuffing them down the clown’s throat. It was a pleasant thought for him but there was no way someone his size could do something like that and get away with it. Furthermore, his paralysed hand was not going to be able to do anything.

“If I find you, I swear I’m going to thrash you so bad that…” The threat didn’t come out complete. The sound of a canine growling interrupted the clown.

“You damn mutt! Who the hell do you think you’re growling at?” The boy heard the clown yell. The canine barked loudly, snarled and then the man was heard hollering.

“YOU DAMN MUTT!” There was more growling and the clown left, the sound of his footfalls fading fast.

The boy stared at the opening of the tent as a furry head popped into the tent. The old thin dog stuck its tongue out.

“No one asked you for your help…”The boy muttered as the dog trotted over to him. It nudged his left arm. The ugly one.

“Leave me alone, you damn mutt.” The boy said angrily. “You’ll get infected.”

The dog sniffed and nudged his arm again.

“Go away.” And something wet came into contact with the blood red hand.

The boy backed up but the dog went closer and licked him again.

It stinks, it’s wet but it was warm. This hand had not felt warmth before, no one had dared to touch it.

“Geez, you stink.” The boy said, pushing the dog away.

Fine, I guess you are an exception.