And The Crowd Goes...Wild?

Every show started with the same thing.

Smiles. Laughter. Jovial looks on people’s faces.

People enjoy the entertainment of the circus, the grand displays of danger and amusement. The daring volunteers and ferocious animals.

It’s tense when people enter, anticipation floating through the dimly lit circus tent.

The contortionists are twisting and dancing to quiet music while people chatter, watching, but not fully invested yet. The contortionists were just an attention-catcher. Not what everyone was actually there to see.

The Ringmaster was who they were mainly there to see. He has the voice of an angel and the humor of a comedian. He was sly like a fox, but wise like an owl. He was the center of focus, the mastermind behind all the tricks and jokes. The magic behind the circus.

A young boy, around the age of seventeen, walks to the center of the floor. “Ladies and gentleman! Introducing, who you're all here to see, the one and only Ringmaster Kyoko Sakairi!” he shouts, his hands beckoning to the curtain, a smile painted brightly on his face.

The crowd hushes, all eyes turned towards the spotlight in the middle of the floor, popcorn at the ready.

But nothing happens.

Quiet voices travel through the aisles as people begin to converse with one another.

“Ringmaster Kyoko Sakairi!” he announces once again, his smile faltering when no one steps out.

The boy, with a hint of panic on his face, runs to the curtain, where all the other members of the circus are waiting. He asks the people where the Ringmaster is, what is wrong?

Then, a man does step out onto the middle of the floor. But this isn't the Ringmaster they all know. No, this man is a new face. A strange face. An unfamiliar face.

And these people hate unfamiliar things. Different things. They hate changes.

Perhaps they are willing to give this man a chance, though.

The man lights a match, a smile on his face as he shows it to the crowd. For a moment, everyone begins to think it is all part of the act. He pretends to drop it, a smirk growing over his smile when the spectators gasp.

A synchronized sigh of relief spreads throughout the crowd as they begin to realize this man means no harm.

Or so they think.

The man walks to the edge of the curtain and presses the flame to it. The fire spreads along the curtain and doubt crosses all of the faces in the audience.

A scream rings out, triggering another. And another.

“Run!”

“Call the fire department!”

“And the police!”

The shouts start with people trying to help each other. Then, they slowly begin to reveal the horror of humanity. The cowardly and selfish ways a person can act when it comes to life or death.

“Get out of my way!”

“Burn, for all I care! Just move!”

“I’m too young to die!”

Chaos spreads as people jump from their seats, trampling over others to escape the growing fire, people falling and nobody helping them up. The animal’s roars grow louder, for, unlike the people, they have no escape from the cages and the fire. They are trapped within.

When the people finally reach the exits, though, they can't go further. There are men blocking each and every one. These men care for nothing but their pay and are willing to do anything to make sure they get it.

Eventually the noise dies down, the screams growing distant and the struggling coming to a stop as people realize…

There is no escape. No escape from the madness. From the madness of the circus.

There's a good kind of mad and a bad kind of mad, if we're speaking in the mannerism of insanity. The good kind is the Mad Hatter kind of mad. The bad kind is the kind where you'll do anything to reach a goal, anything to satisfy your needs and desires.

This right now is the bad kind of mad.

No one was laughing anymore. It was as if the fire that fueled their joy snuffed out entirely. Any future circus would be built on the trauma experienced in this one, if there was anyone left to tell the story.

There is one person left.

Me.

I stand there, unfazed by the destruction.

Silence is all that rings through my ears now. Not the laughter that used to fill this place. Not the quiet music. Not the roar of the animals.

It's all gone. Dead.

Silent.

All that's left is the man, standing ominously in the center of the fire, that smirk blazing even brighter than the burning flames. A dangerous glint in his eyes.

This man has no fear. No nervousness. Only sick, sadistic desire.

He cares for no one but himself. No one.

He is the opposite of the Ringmaster.

But if you take a closer look, he is the Ringmaster. Only, something bad has happened to change him. A loss, a hurt, something that has manipulated him into believing he can do no more good for anyone. He can't bring the happiness that he used to. The joy. The smiles. The laughter.

He finally believes himself to be nuts, mad, psycho, gone, over the bend, entirely bonkers, off his rocker, crazy, completely out of it, insane.

And what do crazy people do? They act on impulse.

No one knows what his impulse was. No one knows what compelled him to do this, to be this way. He doesn't even know. Just like how he doesn't know himself anymore. He isn't himself anymore.

He can't be himself anymore.

Though in the depth of his heart he feels a longing sadness to see this place in flames, he acts proud of himself for accomplishing this ‘goal’.

He has silenced the circus, once and for all.

I apologize, reader, if this has confused you, but a confused author creates a confused reader, therefore we are both confused.

And in the life of the circus, confusion and silence speaks greater than all.