October 1981
Turmoil had become the normal state of things in the area, although no one could exactly say why. It seemed that some unknown forces were wagging an unseen war, yet it was affecting even those who were not a part of it. The Cirque had been traveling, looking for a venue, but without much luck. Everywhere they seemed to go the people seemed on edge and even more cautious of strangers, and the strange, than usual.
Boris Romanov headed the wagons of the cirque away from the inhabited areas, giving up on setting up the show for another night. “We will find somewhere soon my Luv,” Madam Zarah attempted to console the man, “whatever is going on, I feel a break coming, a peace will settle once more.”
“I do hope,” Boris returned, reaching out to gently stroke the soft stubble that was coming in along the woman’s jaw line, “we will have to head for warmer lands soon.” Zarah nodded in agreement.
“Boris! Boris!” A young woman came running up to where the lead wagon had come to a rest.”
“What is it Veronika?”
“Look!” She pointed behind the group of wagons, “it’s a sign!” In the distance a strange green light lit up a portion of the night sky. “Are we doomed?” Slightly panicked eyes fell on Madam Zarah, “is a curse following the cirque?”
Zarah turned in her seat to take in the sight behind them; it seemed to be a skull with a serpent slipping through it. “No my dear,” the woman replied, “a sign yes, a curse, no.” She pointed towards the image, “the snake is eternity, it is conquering he skull of death. We must go Boris, something awaits.”
Although he didn’t feel as encouraged by the strange site in the sky as he beloved, he had learned long ago to trust in her instincts and gave the sign of the cirque to make a hard right, heading in the direction of the green sparkles in the sky.
* * * * * * * *
The sparkles had begun to fade and fall from the sky, like so many shooting stars, by the time the cirque train had reached the bottom of a tall hill. Upon the hill sat a large manor house, which appeared quite weathered by time. “What do you make of that?” Boris asked, turning to regard Zorah.
“Abandoned,” she replied, “yet…”
“Zorah? Luv?”
“We must go Boris,” she returned, “I feel it, something does indeed wait.”
“If nothing else,” the man sighed, “it will be a respite from the wagons for a night.”
* * * * * * * *
Wagons parked around the entrance way, the members of the cirque made their way into the old manor house. While the outside has spoke of neglect and years gone by, the inside was still in pristine condition, aside from some toppled and broken furniture here and there.
“Are you sure it’s abandoned?” Serena, the “four-legged” girl asked, looking around the foyer.
Zorah began to nod, but stopped suddenly, “no, one soul.” As if on cue, a small cry began to echo throughout the house. Alarm gripped the cirque performers at first, not sure if they were about to become an unwelcomed party and chased out. Zorah motioned for calm, “it is what we have come for. Search.” Boris nodded as eyes turned towards him for reassurance.
Soon the troupe was winding through the house, having searched room by room, unable to locate the source of the crying. With a sigh, Jasper, one of a pair of twin dwarves leaned against the wall, then let out a cry as he stumbled backwards, the panel he had leaned against pushing out from behind him. “Hey guys, I think I found something.” He scurried along inside the wall. A few moments later he emerged from another hidden panel within the entrance way, holding a basket. “I think I found the source of the noise.”
While a group gathered around, Zorah flipped over the blanket that covered the basket.
Inside, asleep, lay a young child of perhaps two or three. “She’s just a little thing,” the woman cooed, then her eyes grew wide, as the child’s hair began to change colors, “Boris,” she looked at the man beside her.
“I have never seen such a thing,” he returned, “what do you make of it?”
“This is why we were to come,” Zorah nodded, “she needs us. We can keep her, can we not?” She looked hopeful at cirque’s leader; other eyes too fell upon the man.
“We have not had a show in ages,” he began, with what was going to be something akin to another mouth to feed, but could not get past the eyes of his fellows, “perhaps this is what we need. A child of many colors.”
* * * * * * * *
Harlequin smiled to herself, as she rest her head upon her books. She had finished her homework and had been reminiscing. Madam Zorah had told her hundreds of times the story, of how the Cirque had found her, rescued her from the walls of the abandoned manor. What had not made sense then made sense now. What she did not know is how she had gotten there, who had left her there, but that mattered little. She had a family, one that was better than anyone could ask for, and a best friend, who, if she didn’t get moving was going to be left standing in the snow.
Glancing around, making sure no one was around to see, the witch shifted into a small black cat, marked with white diamonds under her eyes. Four feet were faster than two, and cracks in the castle walls made excellent short cuts when one was in a hurry.
|
Loading...
