– Kelly Pells
Bones like pieces of shattered glass stuck beneath the skin. Eyes pools of bottomless black. Hunched shoulders and rasping breath. Thin lips drawn back from the teeth so they seem perpetually bared. As if he is smiling. Always smiling.
This is Effie’s view from between the bars of her cage. The boy of skin and bone is in the cage opposite, and between them is the space where the gawping crowds come to stare and point and jeer. She can see him, and he can see her, but they can never speak and they can never touch.
She can see other cages from where she sits. She knows there are cages on either side of her too. But there is not much to look at. Not when you see it every day. Margaret’s beard, Frank’s third leg and Walter’s Siamese twin protruding upside down from his chest are little more than wallpaper to her now.
When she was first brought here, Effie stared. She had never seen anything like them before. She had felt like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole until she came to in a world full of strange creatures that were almost human. The smell of sweat and piss and worse besides had assaulted her nose. All to reinforce the idea that these people were little better than animals.
She remembered certain things from before, though she tried not to. Memories like dreams, and as much use as dreams too. Walking through the quiet little village with Joseph holding her hand. He was the only man who had never been intimidated by her. They would walk for hours sometimes, circling the village with its squat little houses surrounded by stretches of green fields. He had pointed out places where they might live. All had little front gardens where they could grow vegetables and views out onto the path so she would be able to watch for him returning from work.
But thinking back only made her remember that night, the sudden sharp smell of chloroform, waking up in darkness in the back of the cart, and then this cage.
The Master, all long limbs and sharp features, comes by several times a day, followed by crowds of gaping strangers who assume the creatures behind the bars cannot understand their cries of disgust. Sometimes it is a slow day, and the Master blames Effie and the others. They’re not given anything to eat on those days. Thankfully, that rarely happens. The Master is a great showman and he can drum up an enthusiastic crowd with his speeches about wonders that have to be seen to be believed.
On occasion, very rarely, some of them are allowed out of their cages. Those that can walk, that is. They stand in front of the tent to further entice passers-by to come in and take a look. That is how Effie met Margaret and Frank and Walter. The Master would tap them sharply on the shoulder and order them to look happy. Smiling brings the customers in.
Effie has accepted that she will never achieve the hopes she once had for herself. The scenes painted on the tent walls of snow-capped mountains and swathes of green forest are as close as she will ever get to adventure. She knows that she will never again feel Joseph’s hand clasping her own. She knows she is alone.
It is dark when the hand appears through the bars. A hand Effie has never seen before, with only three thick pink fingers. She ignores it and curls up in the straw at the back of the cage. But the hand grabs the bar and starts rattling it. Effie shuffles forwards. She doesn’t want the Master to hear and come to investigate. His temper can be dangerous.
“What?”
The hand stops rattling. It is attached to an arm that is curved awkwardly around the corner from the cage next to Effie’s.
A deep male voice asks, “What’s your name?”
“Effie. Who are you?”
“Effie, my name is Ernest. I imagine you’d like to get out of here, wouldn’t you?”
“What are you talking about? The Master treats us well here.”
“He’s not listening.”
Effie looks around at the others in their cages. They are all sitting up and listening attentively. Their eyes glitter in the dim light from the single lamp hanging overhead. It occurs to her that this might be a trap, that the Master might appear at any moment and punish her.
Effie lowers her voice. “Of course I want to get out. There’s nothing I’d like more.”
“We have a plan,” Ernest says. “All of us make some noise and wait for the Master to come and see what’s going on. When he comes over to you, you knock him on the head with your weights and take his keys and free the rest of us. By morning, we can be far away from here. Understand?”
“It couldn’t possibly work,” Effie says slowly. “It’s too simple. Why me?”
“Why do you think, Effie?”
She looks down at herself. Of course she knows why. Beneath the jacket she wears at night to keep her warm, her arms ripple with massive, hard muscles. When she flexes her biceps the jacket strains at the seams. Her abs are carved of rock and her thighs could crush a man’s skull. There is a reason she is the only one with weights in her cage. The Master doesn’t want her to lose any of her muscle definition. She must work at it all day, give the crowds a sight when they come to see her.
“The Master kidnapped us,” Ernest tells her, sensing her hesitation. “We are his prisoners, Effie. Not his friends. He gives us just enough to keep us alive.”
“But at least we’re safe here. You must know how harsh the outside world can be to… people like us.”
“Do you want to be safe? Or do you want to be free?”
Effie pauses. She can feel the eyes in the other cages all staring at her now. None are angry at her hesitation. Most are simply desperate, pleading.
“I want to be free.”
“Good girl, Effie. Now, we’re only going to get one shot at this. Are you ready?”
Effie picks up one of her weights, lifts it up and down a few times.
“I’m ready.”
As if they have been waiting for the cue, every inhabitant in every cage in the tent starts to rattle their bars. Effie joins in with her free hand. It doesn’t take long for the almighty noise to bring the Master stumbling, half-asleep, into the tent to see what is going on. He holds a lantern in his hand. Its yellow light illuminates his face from beneath, throwing shadows across his sharp cheekbones and long, thin nose. In his pale nightshirt with his skinny ankles exposed and his hair ruffled from sleep, he seems almost comical. But only if you had never seen him in his bright red velvet jacket, his hair oiled back, and his black eyes burning like hot coals as he calls in the crowds.
The sound stops the moment he steps inside.
“What is going on here?” his familiar voice booms around the space.
Effie feels her courage falter for a moment. Where would she go even if she did escape from here? She thinks of Joseph, and whether there is any chance that he might still be waiting for her. They could have made a home together. The Master robbed her of that.
Effie’s hand curls into a tight fist around the heavy weight.
The Master stalks the row of cages, peering into each and every one. Sunken, shadowed eyes stare out at him. Some flinch back as the light approaches. No one says a word. All is quiet except for the sound of his footsteps.
He reaches Effie’s cage. She shuffles closer to the bars, the weight concealed behind her back. She gestures with a finger. The Master, frowning, moves closer.
Effie shoots an arm between the bars and grabs the front of his shirt. The Master has no time to react before her other arm brings the weight crashing down on top of his head. He crumples, eyes closed, blood flowing down the side of his face, but Effie keeps him upright. Holding him with one hand she searches through his pockets with the other until she finds his keys. She lets him go and he collapses to the ground. Effie peers down at him. He looks dead.
“Well done, Effie!”
Ernest’s voice brings her back to her senses. After a few tries she manages to get one of the keys into the lock on the outside of her cage and the door swings open. She pauses before she climbs out. There is no going back now.
One by one she unlocks the other cages. Some flee the moment their door is opened, disappearing into the night. Others need help. The giant cradles the mermaid girl in his arms as he walks past. Two midgets hold hands as they waddle to the entrance. The boy of skin and bone drags himself to freedom. Bearded Margaret pauses to hug Effie before she leaves.
Walter’s cage is the last. When Effie slides the key into the lock, he reaches a hand through the bars and rests it on Effie’s shoulder. She looks up at him.
“Don’t you want to go?” she asks.
Walter shakes his head. “What kind of life can I have out there?”
Walter’s twin, dangling from Walter’s torso, usually has his eyes closed. When they are open, they gaze about at the world in bewilderment, frightened of every small noise and sudden movement. Walter is right. On the outside, they would never be able to survive.
Walter turns his back to Effie and sits in the corner of his cage. She supposes it’s to make it easier for her to walk away.
Effie turns to Ernest. She has seen him before, standing with the others in front of the tent, but they have never spoken. Aside from his deformed hands, six fingers altogether, he is almost handsome. She smiles at him. They both turn to look at their Master, lying on the ground.
“He’s not… is he… dead?” Effie asks.
Ernest leans down close to the body. “He’s breathing.”
Effie feels something loosen in her chest. “Good. What are we going to do now?”
Ernest turns back to her. He is framed by the wide entrance to the tent which leads out into the darkness. The night seems suddenly to breathe with possibilities.
“Whatever we want,” he says.
Effie gazes out of the tent. The ground slopes away beneath her feet, promising that she need only take the first step. Gravity will do the rest.
Ernest stays behind, waiting until everyone else has left. He must attend to the Master.
They find the Master a few days later, when the locals complain that the freak show hasn’t been open for some time. The police come to investigate. They call out his name, but no one answers. Eventually they see him, propped up on a chair in one of the cages. The door has been locked. His hands are tied behind him and his ankles lashed together. They don’t recognise him at first. His smile has been extended, with the help of a knife, so that it stretches from ear to ear. The loose flaps of bloody skin reveal the shining white teeth beneath. Once they have freed him, and he opens his mouth to tell them what happened, they see that his tongue, also, has been removed.
Kelly Pells
Kelly Pells is a third year English with Creative Writing student with a passion for historical and fantasy fiction.