2 The Magician by Ava Rayle
When the circus came to town, it was cold. I went with my daughter, Lila. She had been so excited to see him, his long, black tailcoat and a twisted handlebar mustache. His pale skin seemed to glow under the yellow light of the stage and his blue eyes glistened like diamonds. But I was the only one who saw the bloodshot in his eyes, the pain behind his grin.
After his fantastic tricks, applause filled my hears but my dark feeling never left. Upon leaving, it was dark. Lila needed the restroom, so I let her go. By herself, in the eerie night. I heard a man whisper, the sound of Lila’s sweet giggles and the crunching of the ice-covered grass. Her giggles quickly turned to a quiet weeping. My brisk walk became a run, the freezing air filling my tired lungs. My fingernails stabbing into my palms as I called my little girl’s name. The familiar sound of the magician’s tent came to life, the red lights lit up my pale face. I bounded up the stage steps, the wood creaking as I went. I heard Lila’s cries growing more and more painful every second I was away. I pulled back the dark curtain to the backstage.
Everything went quiet, my head pounded at the horror I saw. My knees shook furiously as I looked upon the corpses lined neatly along the walls. Their bloodied faces were frozen in contorted horror. Some were skinned, bludgeoned, or eaten alive. A young woman about 20 in a magician’s helper outfit, a beautiful pink leotard with a feathered hat. Sequins studded the dress and lit up her once beautiful face. But no longer. Her ribs popped out from the bloody pulp that had been the left half of her torso. It was sickening. The corpse lay at my feet, forcing me to set atop her eaten, rotting body. It squelched repellently underfoot. I bit my fist as I tried not to cry at the horrifying visual of the dismembered and disfigured bodies. Lila’s nearly muted cries from the other side of the room filled my ears, I turned, it was nearly pitch-black but I could still see her long, blonde hair. “Daddy …” she tried to call me. It was the most pained sound I had ever heard. She lay behind a wall, I could only see half her face. I ran over and tried to embrace her, she wouldn’t move. I then saw the blood flowing down her dress. It was then her weak body was pulled behind the wall. She used her last ounce of strength to grab the wall. She screamed and cried. I tried to grab her, her little hand reached for mine, her blue eyes met mine and for that split second I saw her as the bouncing little baby she used to be, and I knew at that moment I would never see her again.
It was then her body was completely pulled behind the wall, and the last thing I heard was the magician’s cruel laughter as he ate away at what was left of my daughter.