May/June/July Movie Writing CHallenge 2009- Strange Tale
Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2009 3:41 am
OK, I finally finished this. It strays off a *little* from canon, but is mostly my own takes on his canon origin almost completely from the Nightcrawler V3 mini-series. One part, though, is exaggeratedly evil and time durations are really screwed up. This is not really a movie... more like a novella on which a movie could be based. Here it is, though, my last minute entry, submitted still on September 16th =)
*****
STRANGE TALE
Any tale must have a beginning. It was a rule and forever would be a rule. Beginning, middle, end. Yet this certain tale, a tale of a life, begins *with* an end. This, Raven knew as she ran with a still-swollen stomach through unforgiving woods, as she stumbled with heavy breath and sensitive pains between her legs through cutting thorns and jagged branches that sliced past her skin and her face, only the omnipresent glow of the moon and the distant orange light of torches lighting her way. An end was near, that was certain, but of what, Raven did not yet know, and so she clutched the bundle to her swollen breast tighter, too tightly, and it cried through the whole journey, soft wails that she tried to silence against the cloth of her dress.
One end that she was indeed aware of now, for which awareness came in the form of aching feet and distant cries of “[WITCH!]”Was her cushy life here as Baroness. That was surely over now, now that the child that was not her husband’s, the bastard child borne of stupid, irresponsible passion was out of her and real, crying and clinging to her like the one thing he’d ever known. That baby, the one that had hurt so much to expel from inside of her, the one that made her change back to blue from the stress, the one that’s eyes glowed against the night looking up at her asking:
‘Where are you going? Will you leave me?’ That baby was the source of her pain, the end to the one life she’d grown into, fit into well. They’d seen it, and then seen her, and now she was running.
She looked back down at it now, as the cliffs became nearer, rushing river coursing underneath them with a powerful roar, as she moved fast enough to slightly mute the mob-cries to her ears, met its yellow eyes with her own, those questioning eyes.
‘Yes.’
She stopped for a moment, and wrapped the cloth tighter around the newborn’s tiny body. Wagner was monogrammed onto it, but she did not notice that. She did not notice much now. All she saw was the baby, and all she felt was pain. Pain from birthing, from running, from hearing the incessant mob-cries getting louder and louder as they progressed. The tiny child, too young to yet properly move, made no effort to reach out to her, and she looked to it, then down at the cliffs, then back where the orange glow was becoming ever clearer. It was clear to Raven, then and there.
There was another end here. The end to this child’s life. Shakily, she dangled the baby over the falls, wind blowing her skirts and hair akimbo, and she exchanged one final look with him, the unnamed child, still bloody from birth, and to her, there was another end evident here. The end of the life of the boy that would never be her son, on the same day he began. Raven stepped forwards ever so slightly, took a final shaking breath...
and released her hands. The bundle, the baby, fell over the cliffs, a tiny black wailing clump, until, both from view and sound; it disappeared, beyond wet, murky death.
*****
DISCOVERY
~Two hours old~
*****
There was something in the water. Damned if she knew what, and damned if she knew why, but as Margali looked towards the river trailing past her camp, she saw it, a brown, sopping piece of cloth, floating along the water. On her left, Stephan was washing his face and hands, as did everyone, and the water was sparklingly clean, beautiful. There was no polluted river here in Winzeldorf, and occasionally fish would be seen here swimming, frolicking. So she shouldn’t pay any mind to the fact that there was something there, something floating down the stream. It was probably unimportant and she shouldn’t care.
But damn it, what *was* that? She squinted, trying to make it out, and then noticed something, a sound that pierced her to the bone, that rang through her brain like ricocheting debris against the inside of her skull. A baby’s crying. Margali, saying not a word, ran into the cold river water, skirts billowing behind her like a mermaid’s hair, and ignored her young son’s calling out to her. The water made her slower, but she pushed on, grabbed the bundle, pressed it to her chest, and waded out as quickly as she could.
“[Feur!]” She called, not really knowing much beyond the fact that there was something small, wet, and crying in her arms. “[Get a blanket! NOW!]” She watched the fire-eater give her a confused expression before running off as fast as his legs would carry him towards the camp. She tried to hush the bundle, but its hoarse wails were adamantly consistent. Hoarse from a raw throat, she noted. Feur was back too quickly, and by then, Stephan and a few other select circus folk were crowded around Margali, watching her lay the blanket down. She placed the bundle down gently, ever so gently, and then peeled back the sopping folds of cloth to get to the person beneath.
Margali gasped and froze for a moment, letting the child be exposed to the elements and those who crowded around her. The baby, evidently a boy, was wet-yes, that was to be expected, but what Margali had *not* expected as she pulled the bundle out of the river, was how damp blue fuzz covered the child’s body, slicked down from the water. In fact, there were many things she had not expected from the baby. His ears, relatively large for a child, were pointed like an elf’s, and that his eyes, tightly shut from crying, would open stark and gold, to name a few. The infant shivered, and his hands curled listlessly around himself, tiny three fingered hands, trying to get warm, somehow. The child looked back towards Margali, and his eyes widened in perpetual newborn curiosity.
‘Can *you* make me warm?’ They were asking, imploring, and a blue forked tail reached out to her, almost as if purposely. She looked at the freezing, crying boy and wrapped the blanket tightly around his strange little body, discarding the wet cloth.
‘Yes’. She took Stephan by the hand and walked to the camp, preparing to ready a bath of water, warm water and... shampoo? Feur followed her, heavy arms at his sides, infant’s wailing quieter now that there was some aspect of warmth. Feur, not a slight man himself in any sense of the word, had no idea as how to broach gentle subjects and so licked his lips and tried.
“[Wagner was written on the other cloth.]” he said. Margali did not reply. “[His name. It’s Wagner.]”
“[So what?]” she asked. “[Now we know the name of the person who threw him off of a cliff.]”
“[Well, Margali... you’re not planning to *keep* him, are you?]” In a brief flash of time, that of a question being asked, she made a decision that would impact the rest of her life and said nothing, walking towards the gypsy camp. Feur took notice. “[Oh, lord, you’re planning to keep him.]”
“[Well, what would *you* do?]” She snapped. “[Bring him back to them to finish the job? Find an orphanage? You’ve *seen* him, who would take him in?]” Feur met her eyes for a moment, and looked down at the shivering bundle in her arms.
“[All right, Margali.]” He finally conceded. “[All right. But *you* enjoy explaining him to the rest of the troupe.]”
*****
When the little boy was bathed and warm, it was evident that he’d hit something, by the swollen condition of his tiny, strange paw- leg, and also that he had been in that cold water for far too long. His throat was raw and hoarse from cold wails, and his tiny nose ran constantly, soiling the fur directly under it. He was breathing through his mouth for the most part, and it was open slightly in a constant awe. The thick blanket around him made only his face visible, and tiny golden eyes were closed at the moment, sleeping. Around him, the majority of the circus troupe leaned over, taking in the sight.
“[Where did you find him?]”
“[In the river, poor thing.]” Margali answered.
“[Are you going to take him in?]”
“[Well... yes. Yes, I am.]”
“[What *is* he?]” Stephan asked, having joined the crowd to see whatever it was that had caught their attention so.
“[...Your... foster brother.]”
One of the female animal handlers spoke now, leaning towards Margali in a question, eyes on the little furry boy. “[Is he... an *elf*?]”
“[Psshhhh No.]”
“[Demon?]”
“[*No!*}”
“[...Imp?]”
Margali sighed. “[He’s just...]” The child sneezed in his sleep, face contorting for a moment, little nose wrinkling before awaking and beginning to wail at consciousness itself. She picked him up, cradling him to her chest, and the crying slowly stopped, turning back into the tiny sounds of slumber. Her mouth twitched in a tiny, rewarded smile. “[A boy. Who happens to resemble some sort of...]”
“[Elfin imp-demon?]” The handler offered. Margali sighed, and there was a distinct beat of silence before another question permeated the air.
“[What’s his name?]”
*****
KURT WAGNER
~Eleven months old~
*****
“[That’s it, my little one, that’s the way.]” Margali crouched, calves aching, arms outstretched as she coaxed her child to come towards her. He made a decent effort at a step, and kept himself balanced, coming forwards with an impossible grin on his face.“[*Good*. Good boy, a step at a time.]” He made a final step, feet moving almost paw-like, and then stumbled towards her open arms, releasing a happy laugh as he did so. She picked him up then, and commended his work.
“[You learn to walk first— then to fly – on the trapeze. You’ll become the greatest acrobat of them all.]” He laughed again, tail swishing back and forth, while his brother watched on from the shadow, observing the scene, listening to their interaction.
“[How does *that* sound, my littlest boy?]” She cooed, oblivious. “[My most special boy.]” Stephan walked over to the two, and tugged at his mother’s skirts.
“[Mama, when do the shows start?]” He asked, indicating the sunset colours of the trees; an autumn occurrence.
“[Twelve more days, Stephan.]” She answered, beginning to walk towards her home, infant child in one arm, and hand of a young one in the other. “[Why?]” He shrugged as he watched her place Kurti down on a table, and walked over and initiated a crude thumb war-esque game with his tail.
“[Just curious, that’s all.]” Kurti’s tail wrapped around his thumb and the small boy laughed gleefully at his victory. Stephan engaged in a rematch and his eyes darted between the game and Margali herself. “[I thought maybe... I could be a part of it?]” the end of his sentence curled up in a question, voice growing higher with uncertainty. Margali’s mouth twitched in an amused smile, and she bent down for a moment to kiss the boy’s head.
“[Oh? And what would you do there?]” She asked, her voice drowned out by clamour of metal on metal as she removed various cooking implements from where they were held, readying to prepare. Stephan busied himself in the game, and shrugged his shoulders, not quite embarrassed.
“[You said that when Kurti learns to walk, he can be on the trapeze, and I already *can* walk, so...]” he looked back up at her, implications lacing every word he said. To his surprise, Margali burst out into musical laughter, and placed her pans down to look at him. Bosom and stomach rumbling with merriment, she crouched down to his level and smiled.
“[Oh, Stephan...]” she giggled. “[I didn’t mean as *soon* as Kurti could walk. No one starts real training until they’re at least... I don’t know, eight.]” Stephan puffed his cheeks. “[All right, liebchen?]”
“[OK.]” He grinned, cheeks bubbling up underneath his eyes. Margali rose from her crouch, joints cracking painlessly from immunity brought on by the common exercises of motherhood.
“[Maybe you can help me with some *magic*, hmm?]” At this, Stephan’s eyes twinkled with a childish hunger, and he went off to sit on the counter next to his foster brother. He took Kurti’s hands in his own and the two found unspoken ways to amuse themselves, mindless sibling interaction enough to make the elder brother smile, and the younger one laugh and stumble over speech that he had not as of yet mastered. Margali cooked in relative silence, and then was interrupted by a meek exclamation.
“[Mama?]”
“[Yes, Stephan?]”
“[Why are Kurti’s teeth coming in all pointy?]”
“[Kurti’s teeth already came in, liebling. There won’t be any more until he’s about two.]” She recited, well educated in the verses of childhood development.
“[No, look.]” He stated, ever adamant, trying to contort himself to an angle such that he could look up at his infant brother’s top teeth as he perched somewhat clumsily on the counter. “[There’s new ones. And they’re coming in pointy.]” Sighing, Margali looked at her pot, watched bubbles straining to reach the top of the water in her pot, but fizzling out midway through. She wiped her hands on her apron and took a step towards her son.
“[All right, Stephan, where?]”
“[*There*.]” He said, one finger extended towards Kurti’s mouth, the unashamedly satisfied look on his face stating that it was impossible to miss the accusedly pointy teeth he was presenting to her. She bent to Kurti’s level and coaxed him to open his mouth, placing one hand around the chin and one on the top of his head. The child obliged with a light purring sound and she tilted his head back, looking at where the ‘pointy teeth’ should have been.
Margali gasped. Canines that shouldn’t have been there for at least another year were protruding from soft pink gums, gleaming white, looking slightly intrusive, surreal. Evidently, they were not fully grown, but rivalled all his other teeth in length, clearly striving to be longer. And to Margali’s utter confusion, they were... for lack of a better word, pointy.
“[*See?*]” quipped Stephan. “[Pointy. They look like the tigers’.]” He noted. And he was right. The fangs were pretty much the same. Margali allowed Kurti to close his mouth and looked over at her older son.
“[Well, I don’t know why. That’s just the way Gott made him.]” Stephan seemed satisfied with that answer, and growing bored with sitting by his mother’s side as she worked, he lifted Kurti up unsteadily and carried him off with the announcement that they were going to go play.
“[OK, Kurti.]” Stephan said, holding up a ball as the two sat outside of their own house. “[Catch.]” He rolled the ball along the ground and Kurti’s head followed it until it landed between his own legs. He held the little coloured rubber sphere with six fingers and looked to his elder brother quizzically for approval.
“[Now *roll* it back to me.]” He directed, gesticulating exuberantly with his arms. Kurti looked to the ball, then to his brother, and his face lit up in understanding. He pushed his arms forward with all the strength he could muster, and the little sphere propelled towards Stephan, who caught it easily and almost immediately threw it back, far too hard and high. It fell in a slow arch towards the ground and bounced on the soil, propelling upwards, until landing on top of the house, blocking out the sun. Kurti, smiling with adventurousness, turned onto his stomach and walked on all fours until he reached the building. Stephan, turning his head for the nearest adult, did not notice his brother’s new discovery and then turned back towards him, and gasped.
*****
Margali was sifting out the right amount of salt onto her spoon, slowly shaking her container until the white crystals slid out, ever so slowly.
“[Steady...]” she mumbled. “[a little more...]” The large, silver spoon was nearly full now, the mountain of white threatening to spill over the edges. “[Almost full...]”
“[MAMA!]” Margali jumped, fumbling with her utensils, and cursed as half the total container poured relentlessly into her cauldron. She sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. {I suppose today’s soup will have to be extra salty.}
“[Yes, Stephan?]” She said, coating her voice with so much sweetness not to sound annoyed it made her mouth feel thick.
“[Um... come here.]”
She sighed, and hastily added some sugar to the concoction, shrugging as she did so. It wouldn’t be ready for a few minutes. Wiping her hands again, she walked outside, only to see Stephan standing outside the house, mouth open, staring towards the wall adjacent to him.
“[What, Stephan? What is it? Where’s Kur-]” Now mother and child both stared at the wall, equal expressions on their faces, and watched as Kurti, with tail wagging behind him like a joyful dog’s, climbed up the wall, holding onto the *wall* itself. They watched in stunned silence as he made his way to the top, scampered onto the platform of the roof, and grabbed the ball, throwing it down at Stephan with a squeal.
“[How is he *doing* that?]” Margali asked as he slowly made his way down the wall, head first. Stephan looked back at her.
“[That’s just the way Gott made him.]”
*****
HIDE AND SEEK
~Five years old~
*****
“[Supper’s almost ready!]” Margali called to her three children, one hand stirring a large pot while the other held it in place. “[Be here in *fifteen* minutes.]” She poured in about half her container’s worth of salt; since four and a half years ago, that combination got great reactions out of most of the troupe.
“[But, mama!]” She heard a small girl call from somewhere behind her. “[I can’t find Stephan *or* Kurti!]” Margali sighed and lifted a tit of soup into her mouth, taste-testing.
“[Feur!]” She called. “[Go help Jimaine find Stephan and Kurti.]” The strongman grinned as he rushed past Margali and hefted her daughter up onto his shoulders.
“[All right, liebling, do you see anyone *now*?]” He asked. The girl narrowed her eyes in preparation for a hunt and scoured whatever grounds she could see from her position with them. There was naught but tents and trees and houses for now, and she could see the trapeze setup, towering above it all, a circus guardian, with a touch of a red bandana peeking out from behind one of the columns...
“[There!]” She pointed to the bandana and her fire-eating consort dutifully stalked over and pulled Stephan out by the scruff. Pouting, the boy looked up at Feur, dangerously twinkling eyes accusing him a traitor, and the man simply shrugged. “[Found you!]” Jimaine shouted, grinning all the while. “[Now come on, help me find Kurti.]”
The three walked around the entire perimeter of the grounds before unanimously deciding that Kurti was *inside* something, and rather, not behind it. Sabu, who had been watching their hunt with growing amusement, decided to partake in the sleuthing along with the children and Feur.
“[What could he be inside of, children? You all outgrew those all little hiding spots, remember?]” Stephan shook his head.
“[No, Kurti can still do it. We found him inside the *soup pot* once.]” Sabu searched Feur’s face for traces of a lie.
“[Really? How’d he get *in* there?]”
“[Kurti can kind of fold himself up to get inside *anywhere*.]” Stephan recalled with growing spitefulness. “[I don’t know, he puts his legs around his arms or something and he’s *three* times smaller!]”
“[*Really?*]” asked Sabu. “[Now that is interesting.]” Then, after a moment’s pause, Feur asked:
“[Have you checked the trees?]” Jimaine looked up at him, and Stephan grinned.
“[No, actually we haven’t. Let’s go.]” And the group made their way towards the trees that surrounded the circus grounds and their homes, a gate of forestry.
“[Where can we start looking?]” Jimaine asked, suddenly intimidated by all the huge, towering plants. “[There so *many*.]”
“[Knowing Kurti...]” Stephan said, gazing upwards with a speculative brow. “[We look *up*.]” Taking the boy’s example, Sabu craned his head up, trying to see between the twining branches of the trees, separating them with his eyes, a mental surgery.
Jimaine, of course, not yet patient enough to sift through the forestry, claimed it all looked the same, as did Stephan, after a while. Feur saw a deep shadow between two of the trees, mere black against the wood, but squinted his eyes to see a branched part in the sunlight, where a thick blue rope was wrapped securely about.
“[I see you, Kurti!]” Feur said, pointing at the boy with a thick finger. “[I see your tail.]” The little crowd from below all took notice of the appendage and waited silently for some development, gazing upwards. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two glowing lights penetrated the darkness, and looked down towards the tail wrapped around the branch.
“[*AW*, I was *sure* I was all in the shadows!]” A voice came from the lights. And then a figure popped out from the blackness, now visible in the light. The figure unwrapped his tail from the branch and perched himself on it, grinning like a fool, fangs now visible as well in the shrouding blackness. “[Did I win?]” He asked, looking to Jimaine. She sighed and hung her head, blonde hair falling in waves around her face.
“[Yes, you won... But it’s not fair, you can’t hide in *trees*.]” Kurti made a face of utter disagreement and then climbed down the tree skilfully before jumping off from halfway down the height, turning in the air slightly to land in a perch.
“[Yes, I can! You never said ‘no hiding in trees’.]” Feur smirked.
“[That’s true, Jimaine. You never said ‘no hiding in trees’.]” Bested, she conceded and Kurti stood upright, beaming from a victory.
“[Do we have time for one more?]” Kurti asked, looking at Feur hopefully. The man turned back to Margali, who looked hard at work, and shrugged.
“[I don’t see why not.]” The children cheered and Stephan set to closing his eyes and counting downwards from seventy seven (their predetermined number).
“[Feur,]” Sabu started, an air of inquisitiveness around him. “[Has Kurti been practicing that wall-climbing that he does? He’s gotten quite good.]” The larger man nodded.
“[Yes, he has.]”
“[And what about the way he jumped down? Impressive stuff for a five year old.]” Feur shrugged, not knowing where the elder man was heading with his observations.
“[I guess so.]”
“[...Four, three, two, one! Here I come!]” Stephan called and then took off running towards the cluster of homes, bandana flying behind his head like some sort of superman. Soon enough, he turned a corner, disappearing from the adults’ view, and a moment later, he came out with a grumbling Jimaine behind him and a grin plastered on his face.
“[Ok, now we look for Kurti.]” After a moment’s pause: “[Let’s check the kitchen first.]”
*****
The kitchen was a small square room with one stove, a huge cupboard beneath it for supplies, and various other fixtures strewn across the walls. Translation: A perfect hiding spot. First, Stephan commanded everyone, with the prowess of both a showman and an army general to look *around* the building *and* on top of it. Jimaine, very much enjoying the charade and the prospect of her foster brother as enemy, gave a mock salute and bounded off.
“[Mama, did you see him?]” He asked, appraising Margali as she intently stared at a pot of soup, wooden spoon in hand, preparing to strike if the need arose. Keeping her lips in a tight line to withhold smiling, she shrugged.
“[I can’t say.]” She said, and let out a snort of laughter before quickly regaining her composure, avoiding his eyes. {Just look at the soup... not at your weirdly entertaining children... only the soup.} Stephan snaked around the kitchen, eyes squinted, deadly. All the cupboards, at the top and bottom of the kitchen, had curved ceilings, kind of domed, allowing lots of room for anyone, *especially* amateur contortionists like Kurti.
Stephan furrowed his brow. But which of them was he in? So he began opening and closing all of them, starting with the large pots and pans one under the sink. But that one was completely filled with... pots and pans. So he looked through each and every one, climbing inside, and seeing nothing.
Next he moved large things out of the way, looking behind them in case Kurti had developed the ability to make himself flat. Margali watched this all with passive amusement, and watched until everything had been moved and moved back, every cupboard had been thoroughly climbed into, and Stephan was going through them all again.
“[Supper’s ready!]” Margali then called, apologetically waving her spoon at Stephan’s forlorn expression, an exchange made subconsciously, food for peace. Jimaine, along with Feur and Sabu, and one of the local acrobats made their way into the tiny kitchen. “[Everyone who wants soup come *now* before it runs out!]” They made their way to grab a bowl for themselves, and then Sabu and Stephan watched, entranced, as the first cabinet opened again, ghost-like.
From above the pots and pans, a spine that had actually bent itself to the groove of the top, straightened out, and golden lights opened, before the figure crawled, from above the pots, out of the cupboard, fell onto the floor, and somersaulted slowly as not to hurt himself, grabbing a bowl out of Stephan’s hands at the end of the trick. Kurti flashed a grin at Stephan, Sabu, and then Margali before turning to her with pleading eyes.
“[Can I have some soup?]”
*****
“[...No.]”
“[But, Margali, please just listen, I-]”
“[*No*.]”
“[Can I just have five minutes to-]”
“[To what?]”
“[To explain to you that this is really a good idea and-]”
“[Why?]”
“[Why? Why is it a good idea? OK, um, first off, there’s less people coming in every year, and the acts are getting stale and I think that if you think about it, he’s really-]”
“[It’s dangerous.]”
“[That’s what I’m saying, I think that for him, it’ll actually-]”
“[He’s too young.]”
“[Yes, he’s young, but he shows more ability than-]”
“[It’s still a no.]”
“[But *I’ll* be the one who’s-]”
“[What part of no don’t you understand, Sabu?]”
“[...Are you going to let me finish a-]”
“[No.]”
Sabu sighed, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers as he rested his elbows on his thighs. Margali sat across from him, face set in stubborn resilience, and looked as if she was holding her own quite well, flicking a piece of black hair behind her head idly.
“[Ok, Margali, just hear me out. PLEASE?]” He nearly begged.
Sigh. “*Fine*. I’m hearing you-.”
“[No, no, *actually* hear me out.]” Margali waved her hands in surrender, and then gestured an introduction for Sabu, ‘Please continue.’
“[All right, firstly, I understand that Kurti’s only five as of now-]” Margali opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it quickly, true to her word. “[And I know that that’s very young. But I think he’s shown a lot more talent *already* than some of the acrobats we have. Performing. Honestly.]”
Margali licked her lips, trying to hide the fact that she was the slightest bit proud of this, if anything.
“[Now, while even if I saw talent, I would usually not recruit a five year old to start training. Because it’s usually dangerous. But there are many reasons why I think that it won’t be NEARLY as dangerous for Kurti, all of which I have thoroughly thought out before I came here trying to convince you.]”
Margali raised a brow. And then the second.
“[All right, first off, he has a tail. That can grab on to things. Ergo, 25% more grip. I’m not including the fact that his feet can grab as well as his hands, mind you. Next off, he can *stick* to *walls*. If that’s not an advantage on, say, the trapeze, than nothing is.]”
Margali readied to say something, but Sabu cut her off.
“[Third, he’s lean and fast and has perfect balance. Perfect physique for an acrobat, and... well, balance. And then there’s his *spine*.]”
Margali, getting antsy, now looked slightly confused.
“[What about his spine?]” She asked, though she was pretty sure she had a vague idea of the answer.
“[Margali, his spine can bend unlike anyone’s I’ve ever seen. He made a reverse arch today WHILE sticking. To walls. Inside a *cupboard*. And then he did a somersault after coming out.]” Margali looked away now, because this all was true.
“[But he’s so *young*...” Sabu leaned forwards, having the upper hand in the discussion now. His eyes were twinkling with eagerness, and he took a wide breath through his nose.
“[Think about it, Margali. He can be great. Maybe become the greatest acrobat of them all.]” Her eyes flashed to Sabu’s now, meeting them, hearing her words back to her. “[Well?]” He pressed. “[Will you let me train him?]”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the decision had already been made.
*****
TRAINING
~Eight years old~
*****
Swing, swing, flip.
Two, three.
Flip, catch, four, freeze, hold, tail, five, six, drop.
Seven, fall, fall, bar.
Twirl, flip, fall, eight, nine, hold, jump.
Ten.
Grab, twirl, straighten, eleven, release, tail, twelve, swing back.
Bar, balance, balance, thirteen, fourteen, walk.
Walk, walk, walk.
Fifteen, sixteen.
Bridge, hold feet, walk, careful... seventeen.
Fall off side, fall, eighteen, flip, catch, handstand, nineteen...
Around, flip, twirl, change position, feet, land, hold...
Twenty.
Kurti straightened himself up; arms extended to the sky, and, panting, turned to his family, watching from the sidelines. Sabu glared at his mother with a kind of vengeance in his eyes, and Kurti’s cheeks ached from grinning, and his arms and legs and tail were on fire.
“[Was that any good?]”
And they all burst into applause.
Margali just stared in shock. Sabu had not let her sit in for any practices since the very first few three years ago, when she had insisted, and she evidently missed quite a bit. The routine was clean, cleaner than most routines she’d seen. Sabu rushed up to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“[Very good, lad, very good indeed! In fact...]” he said, looking at Margali all the while. “[I think you’re ready for your first show.]”
*****
“[Sabu... let’s talk.]” Margali said, and Sabu looked over at Kurti, who was still puffing and blowing, and beaming with praise. Sabu followed, and Margali recruited Feur and one of the acrobats, an Annelies Kauffmann to come with her. They sat on the grass as Kurti tried to drink his weight in water while Jimaine and Stephan made comments from the side.
“[OK, that was good.]” She admitted, and at a look from Sabu, reprimanded to “[*great*, even.]” He leaned back in his seat, appeased. “[But *how* is he going to perform in a circus production?]”
“[Well, we’d have to make him a costume.]” Said Annelies, referring to the mercilessly tattered shorts Kurti wore now, held up only by the collective willpower of everyone around. She then added, nervously twirling her claret curls: “[One with a tail hole...]”
“[With all due respect, Annelies, I don’t think Margali was referring to the costume.]” Annelies turned a shade to match her hair before muttering an affirmation.
“[Right, remember what happened when I tried to get him into that school with a photo?]” Margali asked, Kurti constantly in her peripheral vision as he galloped after Stephan with Jimaine on his back, some sort of imaginative chase. Feur gritted his teeth.
“[Well, why did you let Sabu train him if you’re not going to let him perform?]” Sabu had the sense to look slightly abashed.
“[I convinced her.]” Feur cracked his fingers absently in thought.
“[I’m afraid for what would happen if he was sent out in front of people.]”
“[Yes,]” Annelies confirmed, “[he’s not cute anymore.]” This response got a look of shock out of the men and one of liquid death from Margali’s steel grey eyes.
“[What? My son is not *cute* enough for your tastes, Annelies?]” The girl’s face grew in redness, freckles around her cheeks dimming out in the heat of embarrassment. She shifted positions, trying to escape the sorceress’ gaze.
“[No, it’s not that, it’s just... OK, remember when Elli, eight years ago, said that he resembled—]”
“[An elfin imp-demon? Yes, I remember.]” Annelies nodded.
“[Right, well, when he was a baby, and had those pudgy cheeks and huge eyes and the big ears and all that, he kind of *did* look like a cute little elf.]” Margali narrowed her liquid death gaze, adding precision. “[That’s not a bad thing,]” Annelies hurriedly blathered on, “[but it was easy to get used to the... general blueness and all that when he was a cute little elf.]” The girl bit at a nail.
“[So what are you saying?]”
“[Well, he was kind of... different looking to begin with, you can’t disagree with that.]”
“[And you said it yourself,]” added Feur “[No orphanage would take him in.]” Annelies continued.
“[But it wasn’t really because he was *scary* looking then, wouldn’t you agree?]” Her eyes begged, please, please agree.
“[Are you saying that he wasn’t scary looking then, but he *is* now? Does Kurti’s ‘general blueness’ scare you, Annelies?]” Her voice dripped with something cleaner than venom, but stung all the same.
“[Well, no- no, of *course* not,]” the girl said, fumbling over linguistics. “[But now, it’s just, he’s outgrown the pudgy cheeks, he’s more of a growing up little boy, lean and that. And so- so you wouldn’t call him *cute* now, would you? I mean, not you, but anyone, because he’s more of a handsome boy now, rather than cute, growing and such. And so, he has fangs now and is grown, and blends in with shadows, and not to us, but to some, maybe it’s a little unnerving, you know- the- um-tail and such- and, well, the pudginess is gone-]” Annelies looked as if her head would explode.
“[Spit it out, girl!]”
“[- and he’s getting closer to looking like the demon part.]” The small crowd went silent, and Annelies’ cheeks were cooling down, and now were back to their pale hue. Margali, however, let out a deep exhale.
“[That’s what the teacher said when I tried to get him enrolled.]” Margali confessed. “[Is that what Kurti looks like to other people?]” Sabu peeked out from underneath his hat, and spoke.
“[If so, it’s not a good idea for him to be performing.]” The next line was directed at Margali. “[*You* shouldn’t have let me convince you into letting me train him.]” Margali turned her gaze to the bearded man, and he cringed.
“[All right,]” she said, and her expression went into a blanker slate. “[But *you* enjoy explaining that to Kurti.]”
*****
When Sabu walked into Kurti’s room, he was a flushed violet, doing a handstand with one arm, and Stephan sat beside him, tapping his finger. Kurti’s crucifix necklace bumped against his nose.
“[You can’t do it, Kurti.]” He said, looking over at the clock placed on the floor. “[Maybe if you learn some *magic*, like me, you-]”
“[Stephan...]” Kurti warned, eyes frantically searching around the room while sweat trickled down his fur. “[I have *forty* seconds left. I’ll do it. *Without* any magic.]” He added with the hints of an ego.
“[Trying to become as good as your older brother, huh?]” Stephan asked, unashamedly taunting.
“[Stephan, please. If I was trying to be *as good* as you, I’d have quit 300 seconds ago.]” He said with a strained, sarcastic tone.
“[...Shut up and do it for 11 more seconds. ... Ten.]”
“[Nine.]” Sabu popped up, entering the room, and Kurti grinned, new determination. “[Eight.]” Now both trainer and brother were unanimously announcing a countdown, and Kurti relished in the glory of it. “[One.]” They whispered, and Kurti fell down onto the floor, eyes glistening with humour and exhilaration, arms throbbing in glorious pain. Sabu leaned over him as Stephan sighed.
“[I did it.]” He said. “[*500* seconds. That’s 8 and a third minutes.]” He clarified, face flushed purple with pain, pride, and victory.
“[Yes, Kurti, very good. Now come, I want to talk with you.]” He said, radiating gentleness from every pore. Kurt stood, arms throbbing, a Cheshire grin on his face, and followed Sabu as they left the room to go into Sabu’s. He stopped for a moment then, and went back in.
“[Let me change first.]” The door closed and Sabu stood outside, planning an epic speech. Kurti called out to him from behind it, though. “[*How* good? Good enough to... start performing in the show?]” His voice went up so high at the last word with excitement, that Sabu twitched an eye.
“[Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.]” Kurti opened the door, still grinning in bright orange pyjamas, and Sabu sighed... {This is not going to be easy.}
*****
“[What do you mean, you don’t want me to perform?]”
“[Well, it’s just-]”
“[Is it my age?]”
“[No, not really, but we all-]”
“[Have I not been practicing enough? I’ll practice more if you want me to.]” Sabu sighed. The boy had picked up his mother’s annoying little argument habit. He was surprised if he was permitted to get a word in edgewise.
“[Gott, no. You’re been practicing very well, my boy. Any more and I’m afraid you might kill yourself. We just-]”
“[Is it because I’m not good enough?]” He asked sadly, and Sabu lost his edge in the conversation.
“[Of course not, Kurti. It’s just...]”he shifted positions, now facing the boy directly and they both sat down on the bed. “[It’s like this. Some people might not be... *ready* for your...]”
“[Act?]”
“[*Special*ness.]”
Kurti blinked and tilted his head to the side.
“[...You know, Kurti... some people are not ready for the... way you... *are*.]”
“[The way I am? What way am I?]”
“[Different.]” Now it was Sabu’s turn to blink. “[Don’t you see it?]” Kurti shook his head. “[Some people will not like that you are... special.]”
“[So you and mama think I shouldn’t go in the show?]”
“[Yes.]” The boy seemed to be understanding. Good.
“[Because I’m...]” he leaned his head forward. “[different.]”
“[Yes.]” Kurti looked down.
“[So you and mama don’t like that? Don’t like... me?]” Sabu’s eyes went wide. {No, no, no, no, no. *Not* good.}
“[Of course not, Kurti. We love you.]” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, careful to keep the fur from going the wrong way.
“[But you don’t want me to be in the show.]” {Damn it. Misinterpretation.}
“[Well, it’s not me and your mama that are going to be watching-]”
“[Stephan and Jimaine and Annelies and the circus people don’t seem to mind me.]”
“[Well, yes, they love you too, of course.]”
“[And,]” he looked at himself, trying to see himself clearly for the first time. “[*they* don’t care about whatever differences I have. They didn’t ever, even when they met me for the first time, when I was a baby.]” He looked up to Sabu, turning the statement into a question.
“[*No*, they didn’t- don’t,-]”
“[So how do you know the audience people will?]”
*****
Sabu crept out of Kurt’s room with the utmost silence, feet pressing onto the floor gently as a breath, and closed the door silently. When he turned around, it was dark out, the black of a late night, and he went off to find Margali. He found Feur instead, waiting outside the house, enjoying the calm of the moon. The larger man turned around at his arrival.
“[Well, Sabu? Did you tell him?]” Sabu bit his lip and shrugged; failure.
“[I *tried*,]” he said, holding his arms out in exasperation, sincerity. “[But I swear, it’s as if the boy never noticed he was blue.]” Sabu walked over to Feur, and the two men sat down on the thick grass, feeling change on the horizon, sweeping over them like fog, creeping up onto their shoulders.
“[So?]”
“[So we’re going to have to get him fitted for a costume.]” Feur smiled.
“[I already have.]”
*****
The conversation took place in the middle of the night, inside a crowded, too small circus tent that looked bleak on the outside in the dark, but sang with life on the inside, with the smell of coffee and debate and family filling it up. There was Margali, Annelies, The Seamstress Gaia, Feur, Sabu, and Stephan, now twelve.
“[So, what you’re saying is: We need a way to make Kurti seem like a regular performer.]” Stephan summarized, bringing a steaming cup of too-hot liquid to his lips, unwilling to admit it burned his tongue.
“[Right.]”
“[...Makeup?]” Everyone stared at Stephan.
“[*No.*]” said Feur. “[Besides, how do you get makeup on fur?]”
“[... We could *shave* him.]” This time, Stephan’s comment was politely ignored.
“[OK, so no makeup. We couldn’t hide the fur anyways. Or the eyes. Or the-]”
“[Yes, yes, Gaia, there’s a lot to hide.]” Margali agreed. “[Maybe we’re playing this wrong. What did *you* first think when you saw Kurti?]”
This released a lot of different answers, all sounding at the same time.
Sabu: “[I don’t know, I guess I was a little shocked at first... but I just reacted like people react when there’s a baby.]”
Annelies: “[I wondered what that purring thing was... then I thought he was cute.]”
Stephan: “[I don’t remember.]”
Feur: “[I wondered if he was real at *first*, I guess.]”
Gaia: “[I was wondering how to make pants for a tail and gloves for three fingers and...]” Margali blinked, taking this in.
“[Feur.]” She said, then, and everyone shut up. “[If he was real?]” The large man nodded an affirmation and gulped down half of his cup, smacking his lips.
“[Well, only at first, I thought perhaps it was a costume.]” Everyone looked at him then, and he recoiled.
“[What?]” ... “[*Oh.*]” Gaia spoke.
“[You want everyone to think it’s a *costume*?]” She hissed the last word, steam from her beverage seemingly flying out of her mouth
“[Why not? We won’t say a thing to them or Kurti, he can just be happy people like his act, and they’ll just assume he’s a costume. No one will know how he dresses like that; it might become a famous performance.]” Margali crossed her arms, satisfied, and smiled, motherly, accomplished. Then her smile fell as Stephan decided to pipe up.
“[What about the tail, mama?]” Annelies pursed her lips.
“[Can he wrap it around his waist or something?]”
“[*No*.]” Sabu said, looking appalled at the very notion. “[It’s a huge part of his performance. He needs it for balance and he grabs on to things with it a lot. It’s a *huge* part of his routine.]”
“[All right,]” said Gaia with a smirk. “[Let the audience try to figure out how we made the tail. I’d *love* to hear some of the rumours that get created.]”
“[There’s just one problem, though.]” Margali interjected. “[People will be really confused if we suddenly have a performer in a... Kurti-costume for no reason.]”
Then there was a pause, and the smell of caffeine grew stronger.
“[Why don’t we have some kind of story prepared for Kurti?]” Asked Gaia. “[We used to do acts with plots.]”
“[What kind of story would have a character that looks like Kurti?]” This from Stephan.
“[An elf story.]” Answered Margali, presenting one option to the others. Stephan shook his head, and took another sip of his scalding beverage.
“[That won’t work, no one will get that.]”
“[How do you know?]”
“[Because the elf thing is only in the ears. He looks... a little scarier than an elf.]”
“[Ste*fan*!]”
“[I’m sorry, but it’s true! *Elves* don’t stick to walls or have little devil-tails, or blend into shadows.]”The boy crossed his arms over his chest. A pause and Feur spoke up again, in all seriousness this time.
“[Now everyone, remember... this is a... *delicate* situation. No one tell Kurti they think he’s a costume. I *doubt* he’d take that very well.]” Eyes all around were set downwards. “[He’ll never know.]”
*****
“[I don’t understand.]” Said Kurti. “[You want me to be *summoned* by witches?]” Feur rubbed the back of his head. When said out loud, it did not sound like the best idea. “[What am I supposed to be, a little demon-boy?]” Annelies blushed.
“[Kurti.]” said Sabu. “[It’s a very interesting routine. I wrote it just for you. And its *hard*. Do you think you’re up to it?]”
“[Well, yes.]” the boy defended, indignant in his change of posture. “[But *why* a little demon-boy?]” Margali flinched. She *really* wished he would stop phrasing it like that. It made her feel like a terrible person for even agreeing to it, and each time he called himself a demon-boy, she nearly jumped at the chance to take back the suggestion, stop following through with this idea.
“[Because... we think that it’ll give you a good excuse to go into shadows.]”
“[Oh.]” He seemed pleased with this. “[And because of the tail.]” Sabu blinked. “[I’m starting to notice some... differences.]” Kurti whispered. “[But I’ll do the show.]”
“[Great! We start training in a week. Now go off and do something fun.]” He said, pushing the boy away, and Kurti went off to find his foster-siblings, running off on all fours to leave Sabu completely mystified.
“[Why in a week?]”
“[I need to write the routine.]”
*****
Kurti and Stephan were sparring in the grass, staining clothes and fur and not caring in the least because there were so few days perfect like this for sparring, and clothes and fur could always be washed again. And Jimaine, little six-nearly seven year old Jimaine, watched with a kind of glee as her blonde hair shone in the sun, and her brothers rolled on the grass before her. Currently, Stephan was bending Kurti’s leg back so that it neared his head, and Kurti appeared to be in light pain.
“[Ah, little brother, you are still *too* small. Like Jimi.]” Jimaine giggled. Kurti strained and flushed his face, and then grinned.
“[Small, yes.]” He said, and then flipped under him, pushing him off with a handstanded thrust. Then he went on Stephan’s back and sat on it, twisting his arm behind his back. “[But flexible.]” He pushed Stephan’s head onto the grass with his foot, and Jimi cackled.
“[BMLRF!]” He said and then they were rolling again.
“[I’m going to be in the show next time the circus is in town. That’s a little more than a year.]” The boy suddenly said, proudly.
“[Really?]” Stephan gawked, proud and surprised and jealous all at once. He was still an *amateur* at any sorcery whatsoever. “[What story did they go with?]” Kurti was wriggling out of Stephan’s grasp as they spoke. Jimaine, choosing to be on Stephan’s side, was helping by throwing small fistfuls of grass onto his face, and taking immense pleasure in the activity.
“[I get to get summoned as a demon.]” Stephan smiled and tightened his grasp a little tighter, and Kurti grunted.
“[Suits you.]” Kurti spat out clumps of grass and looked to his brother, wide golden eyes a little hurt.
“[What?]” He tightened his grip more, and flipped Kurti over, crushing his tail under his weight.
“[Ow, Stephan...]”
“[Well, don’t you see it?]”
“[See *what*? ... ow, can you get off my tail?]” He kept his position.
“[I just mean the little tail and blue fur and eyes and all. Demonic, no?]” His eyes singed with a type of stinging malice, and Kurti looked up at him, now plainly insulted.
“[Stephan... I—you think I look demonic?]” His voice was hurt. Then the malice disappeared as quickly as it came and Kurti was released from his grip, much to Jimaine’s dismay.
“[Sorry, brother. That was mean; I don’t know why I said that.]” Kurt slowly stretched out his tail and rubbed at his arms. “[Of course you don’t.]”
“[It’s ok.]” A pregnant pause engulfed the children, before Jimaine, whom they had assumed was oblivious to the conversation, piped up.
“[What’s your stage name going to be, Kurti?]” Both boys looked over at her with a quiet surprise, before Kurti picked her up onto his shoulders and gave her a faint smile.
“[I don’t know.]” he said. “[But it should be something cool... and maybe kind of ominous.]” He dropped his voice at the end, the effect making Jimaine laugh.
“[Superkurti?]” she suggested, in all seriousness.
“[I don’t think so, Jimi.]”
“[How about I write your introduction?]” Stephan asked, amusement cropping up.
“[No- I don’t think so.]” Kurt chided.
“[Oh come on!]” He said, posing himself, every inch the ringmaster. “[Ladies and gentlemen, beloved audience of Die Zirkus Gelhaar, allow me to introduce to you our finest attraction.]”
“[Stephan...]” but he was grinning too.
“[... an acrobat from the depths of hell himself, the most *vicious* elf in all of Winzeldorf, no, in all of *Germany*!]” he continued. Kurti was laughing now.
“[And of course,]” he held up Jimaine to the world. “[His lovely assistant, Jimaine Szardos!]” He threw her up and caught her, not quite easily, and then put her down as she twirled around, delirious with fantasy.
“[The lively damsel, lovely maiden, beautiful Jimaine will perform on the *death* defying trapeze with our very own creature of the dark, the prowler of shadows, the *scourer* of the night, the *crawler* of the walls, the-]”
“[Did you just come up with those?]” Kurti asked and his brother beamed.
“[Yep. Why, do you like them?]”
“[Yeah, I do like them, actually. Not really the first one, but the other three, yes.]”
“[Wallcrawler, Nightscourer, and Shadowprowler?]” Kurti grinned.
“[Yes, those. Maybe I’ll make one of them my stage name. What do you think? They’re pretty evil sounding.]”
“[All right, but which one?]”
“[I honestly don’t know.]” Kurti then leaped suddenly, bending in the air, and landing on his arms, spine straightened out.
“[Hmm... they all sound cool. Which one do I do more, then? Scour, prowl, or crawl?]” He flipped back onto his front and bounded back towards his sister, perching to join her. He waited on Stephan’s answer.
“[Define crawl.]” Kurti thought about it, eyes traveling upwards in thought.
“[Travel on four limbs.]”
“[Crawl, then.]” Kurti seemed to agree by the arch of his brows, and then grimaced.
“[But *wall* crawler? Like that, it doesn’t sound very... evil.]”
“[You’re right. What would you prefer to crawl, then? The shadows or the night?]” Kurti’s eyes sparkled with a kind of reminiscence, a private elation, and he prepared his title, breathed it in.
“[The night.]” Stephan clapped him on the shoulder, and the sun set on the two brothers, standing amongst a darkening world.
“[Nightcrawler it is.]”
*****
The needle wove in and out of fabric, and Gaia’s able hands flew and moved material around the figure of the squirming boy standing on her pedestal, preparing a costume that would soon be his.
“[Stand still, Kurti!]” The seamstress commanded, ripping a piece of thread apart with her teeth, and he felt another prick in his skin, which made him squirm more, away from her grip.
“[But you’re *pricking* me.]” A blue tail coiled anxiously behind him, and slapped her on the shoulder; narrowly she avoided stabbing him with another tiny silver spear. With a grim, stoic determination, she continued her crusade over the costume as Kurti’s arms were growing sore and tired from standing straight out and cruciform. He squirmed.
“[It’ll hurt *more* if you squirm.]” her tone added ‘I’ll make sure of that.’ and Kurti stilled, smartly so. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself flying through the trapeze, cheers background music to the symphony of his performance, and he tried to see himself dressed the way the picture had looked. The picture Gaia had shown him, that he’d worked with her to make and he knew it was right, when it was done, he just knew this was the one. ‘I want it just like the picture.’ He’d specified. ‘Just like that.’
“[How’s it turning out?]” He asked, impatient, turning his head back around to address her. “[You’re making it just like the picture, right?]” Gaia grabbed his tail and placed it in his hand roughly, clearly agitated by the limb’s incessant movement.
“[For the last time, yes. Now hold *still*.]” and then he felt another prick. He was starting to think they were on purpose.
“[It’s looking great.]” Margali assured him. “[You’ll be my little blue lightning.]” He smiled at empty air.
“[Nightcrawler, mama.]”
“[What?]”
“[I want to be called Nightcrawler. Do you think it sounds good?]” He looked at her, eyes glowing from inside a frame of wide lashes.
“[It’s a little... dark, isn’t it?]” She shrugged.
“[Margali,]” Gaia chided, directing Kurti to cinch a bundle of cloth. “[If you’re going to give the boy a demon’s role to play, he’s going to have to stay in character.]” Kurti beamed, triumphant, and Margali exhaled.
“[All right, but I don’t want you to-]”
“[There!]” Gaia shouted, standing and arching her back, joints creaking. “[Finished! Here you go, ‘Nightcrawler’, you can go and see.]” His arms flew down in relief, and jumped down from the pedestal, turning to the mirror in the room. He looked down at himself, all black and red and dark blue, ominous colours that did seem ready to blend in to the night, and he knew this made him look more frightening indeed, and so he grinned, fangs flashing, eyes alight.
“[Thank you, Gaia.]” he said, looking in the reflection towards the woman. “[It’s perfect.]”
*****
NIGHTCRAWLER DEBUT PERFORMANCE
~Nine years old~
*****
The audience cheered and their faces flushed, exhilarated from the last performance, and when their clamour fell silent, and a hush descended like a fog amongst them, the ringmaster was in the spotlight again. All eyes were on him. “[Ladies and gentlemen,]” he built his voice up, a crescendo. “[Boys and girls, tonight we have a new act for you, never done before in Circus Gelhaar. It is a trapeze act, one that will chill you to the bone and have you holding your breath, one that tells a tale.]” The audience began to murmur in the pregnant pause, tension building; this had not been advertised.
“[It is the tale,]” he said, topping the dull roar of the crowd, “[Of a *demon*.]” the temperature dropped as thousands of eyes twinkled in anticipation, and the ringmaster continued. “[Unlike any act you’ve ever seen, any *acrobat* you’ve ever seen in the history of the entire circus!]
“[Our acrobat, a boy of just nine years, will perform feats that defy death itself, will revolutionize the trapeze, redefine the word fantastic, all without the safety of a net.]” Another building murmur, an air of worry.
“[I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, Circus Gelhaar’s newest act, Kurt Wagner, the Incredible *Nightcrawler*!]” And the spotlight went out, darkness enveloping the crowd, and applause and cheering was the only presence. And when the lights went on again, there was nothing but a cauldron in the centre of the ring, and three ‘witches’ gathered around it.
They moved their arms and danced over the cauldron, and a soft drum played in the background. With bated breath, the audience watched as Margali, the lead witch, raised her arms to the drum’s increasing speed, and said a chant. With a percussion flourish, the chairs in the crowd creaked as the circus-goers leaned forwards in their seats.
...and then gasped as they saw a flash of blue and red and black shoot out of the cauldron, straight up, and then it went black again. When the lights reappeared, the crowd blinked back against the brightness and there was a spotlight on a ledge, where the back part of it was cloaked in shadow. The audience vaguely registered the glowing eyes, and there were whispers of excitement, approval.
“[I call out to you...]” a whisper carried across the crowd. “[...Nightcrawler...]” and then from out of the shadows, Kurt stepped forwards and the show began.
People gasped and stared, in awe, in horror, in wonder. The birth of Nightcrawler came in a series of intricate bends and moves and a soft ominous drone of notes sounded out from the background though no one was listening to that. At one point, Nightcrawler pounced from one of the very back bars with eyes of fire straight towards the crowd and they gasped even though they *knew* he was too far away to reach them. And then when he’d surpassed the very closest bar and their heads were pressed back against their seats, he caught the bar with his feet and flipped over, landing on top of it triumphantly and they cheered for this little monster who’d stolen their hearts.
*****
When he’d taken his bow from the floor, he’d given a flash of teeth and felt the sweat rushing down his body and it felt wonderful. The lights had turned on, and when they turned back, Nightcrawler had hidden in the shadow, invisible to the crowd and they’d cheered in a deafening roar of applause for the mysterious character that unknown to them, relished in every moment of it.
*****
“[Kurti, my boy, that was amazing!]” Sabu praised as Kurt, still in Nightcrawler uniform, poured water down his throat and made little nods instead of thanks for the commendations. Jimaine rushed to his side and tackled his leg in a hug. He settled for stroking her hair with a tail as more people flooded in to his small circus trailer.
“[Oh, liebling, they cheered so loud! All for you!]” Finished with the water, he looked back up at his mother.
“[So it was good?]” he grinned, unsuccessfully feigning self-consciousness. He just wanted more praise and Margali knew it.
“[Good? It was one of the best acts *here*!]” She leaned in. “[Even Annelies didn’t get as much applause.]” she joked and Annelies faked hurt. Kurt giggled and looked over at no one in particular, still breathing heavily.
“[So I can perform more this year?]” Margali passed him another bottle of water.
“[Of course! Every show for the rest of the year, you will be in.]” Eyes shone and sweat dripped and blood boiled with excitement.
“[We might even have to give you your own admission booth; so many people came.]” Kurti nearly choked on his water and it fell all around him and the fur on his chin matted down and dripped.
“[No, mama, you can’t do that! That’s only for the *lead* acrobats.]” Sabu smirked.
“[My boy, you’re well on your way.]” The pride that glowed form the boy at that one simple statement filled up the small room and its occupants like a wraith and he turned down to his sister.
“[What did you think, Jimi? Did you like the performance?]” She looked up from his leg with impossibly wide eyes of blue and crooned.
“[It was *coooool*. I want to learn to flip like that too!]” She buried her face back into his leg and muffled: “[But you looked so, *scary*, Kurti!]” He laughed out loud at that as the adults cast their eyes down almost shamefully at the floor. When Sabu looked up, however, Kurti’s eyes were on him and they were both a year ago as his answer directed squarely at the man.
“[Really? Because the crowd didn’t seem to think so.]”
*****
CIRCUS GELHAAR’S LAST SHOW FOR THE YEAR
~Almost Eleven years old~
*****
The boy with the hair spiked green that looked like that of a living bush shook his head from side to side and bush-head’s friend moved his arms in wide gestures in an effort to convince him. The second boy, slighter than the first by a head or
*****
STRANGE TALE
Any tale must have a beginning. It was a rule and forever would be a rule. Beginning, middle, end. Yet this certain tale, a tale of a life, begins *with* an end. This, Raven knew as she ran with a still-swollen stomach through unforgiving woods, as she stumbled with heavy breath and sensitive pains between her legs through cutting thorns and jagged branches that sliced past her skin and her face, only the omnipresent glow of the moon and the distant orange light of torches lighting her way. An end was near, that was certain, but of what, Raven did not yet know, and so she clutched the bundle to her swollen breast tighter, too tightly, and it cried through the whole journey, soft wails that she tried to silence against the cloth of her dress.
One end that she was indeed aware of now, for which awareness came in the form of aching feet and distant cries of “[WITCH!]”Was her cushy life here as Baroness. That was surely over now, now that the child that was not her husband’s, the bastard child borne of stupid, irresponsible passion was out of her and real, crying and clinging to her like the one thing he’d ever known. That baby, the one that had hurt so much to expel from inside of her, the one that made her change back to blue from the stress, the one that’s eyes glowed against the night looking up at her asking:
‘Where are you going? Will you leave me?’ That baby was the source of her pain, the end to the one life she’d grown into, fit into well. They’d seen it, and then seen her, and now she was running.
She looked back down at it now, as the cliffs became nearer, rushing river coursing underneath them with a powerful roar, as she moved fast enough to slightly mute the mob-cries to her ears, met its yellow eyes with her own, those questioning eyes.
‘Yes.’
She stopped for a moment, and wrapped the cloth tighter around the newborn’s tiny body. Wagner was monogrammed onto it, but she did not notice that. She did not notice much now. All she saw was the baby, and all she felt was pain. Pain from birthing, from running, from hearing the incessant mob-cries getting louder and louder as they progressed. The tiny child, too young to yet properly move, made no effort to reach out to her, and she looked to it, then down at the cliffs, then back where the orange glow was becoming ever clearer. It was clear to Raven, then and there.
There was another end here. The end to this child’s life. Shakily, she dangled the baby over the falls, wind blowing her skirts and hair akimbo, and she exchanged one final look with him, the unnamed child, still bloody from birth, and to her, there was another end evident here. The end of the life of the boy that would never be her son, on the same day he began. Raven stepped forwards ever so slightly, took a final shaking breath...
and released her hands. The bundle, the baby, fell over the cliffs, a tiny black wailing clump, until, both from view and sound; it disappeared, beyond wet, murky death.
*****
DISCOVERY
~Two hours old~
*****
There was something in the water. Damned if she knew what, and damned if she knew why, but as Margali looked towards the river trailing past her camp, she saw it, a brown, sopping piece of cloth, floating along the water. On her left, Stephan was washing his face and hands, as did everyone, and the water was sparklingly clean, beautiful. There was no polluted river here in Winzeldorf, and occasionally fish would be seen here swimming, frolicking. So she shouldn’t pay any mind to the fact that there was something there, something floating down the stream. It was probably unimportant and she shouldn’t care.
But damn it, what *was* that? She squinted, trying to make it out, and then noticed something, a sound that pierced her to the bone, that rang through her brain like ricocheting debris against the inside of her skull. A baby’s crying. Margali, saying not a word, ran into the cold river water, skirts billowing behind her like a mermaid’s hair, and ignored her young son’s calling out to her. The water made her slower, but she pushed on, grabbed the bundle, pressed it to her chest, and waded out as quickly as she could.
“[Feur!]” She called, not really knowing much beyond the fact that there was something small, wet, and crying in her arms. “[Get a blanket! NOW!]” She watched the fire-eater give her a confused expression before running off as fast as his legs would carry him towards the camp. She tried to hush the bundle, but its hoarse wails were adamantly consistent. Hoarse from a raw throat, she noted. Feur was back too quickly, and by then, Stephan and a few other select circus folk were crowded around Margali, watching her lay the blanket down. She placed the bundle down gently, ever so gently, and then peeled back the sopping folds of cloth to get to the person beneath.
Margali gasped and froze for a moment, letting the child be exposed to the elements and those who crowded around her. The baby, evidently a boy, was wet-yes, that was to be expected, but what Margali had *not* expected as she pulled the bundle out of the river, was how damp blue fuzz covered the child’s body, slicked down from the water. In fact, there were many things she had not expected from the baby. His ears, relatively large for a child, were pointed like an elf’s, and that his eyes, tightly shut from crying, would open stark and gold, to name a few. The infant shivered, and his hands curled listlessly around himself, tiny three fingered hands, trying to get warm, somehow. The child looked back towards Margali, and his eyes widened in perpetual newborn curiosity.
‘Can *you* make me warm?’ They were asking, imploring, and a blue forked tail reached out to her, almost as if purposely. She looked at the freezing, crying boy and wrapped the blanket tightly around his strange little body, discarding the wet cloth.
‘Yes’. She took Stephan by the hand and walked to the camp, preparing to ready a bath of water, warm water and... shampoo? Feur followed her, heavy arms at his sides, infant’s wailing quieter now that there was some aspect of warmth. Feur, not a slight man himself in any sense of the word, had no idea as how to broach gentle subjects and so licked his lips and tried.
“[Wagner was written on the other cloth.]” he said. Margali did not reply. “[His name. It’s Wagner.]”
“[So what?]” she asked. “[Now we know the name of the person who threw him off of a cliff.]”
“[Well, Margali... you’re not planning to *keep* him, are you?]” In a brief flash of time, that of a question being asked, she made a decision that would impact the rest of her life and said nothing, walking towards the gypsy camp. Feur took notice. “[Oh, lord, you’re planning to keep him.]”
“[Well, what would *you* do?]” She snapped. “[Bring him back to them to finish the job? Find an orphanage? You’ve *seen* him, who would take him in?]” Feur met her eyes for a moment, and looked down at the shivering bundle in her arms.
“[All right, Margali.]” He finally conceded. “[All right. But *you* enjoy explaining him to the rest of the troupe.]”
*****
When the little boy was bathed and warm, it was evident that he’d hit something, by the swollen condition of his tiny, strange paw- leg, and also that he had been in that cold water for far too long. His throat was raw and hoarse from cold wails, and his tiny nose ran constantly, soiling the fur directly under it. He was breathing through his mouth for the most part, and it was open slightly in a constant awe. The thick blanket around him made only his face visible, and tiny golden eyes were closed at the moment, sleeping. Around him, the majority of the circus troupe leaned over, taking in the sight.
“[Where did you find him?]”
“[In the river, poor thing.]” Margali answered.
“[Are you going to take him in?]”
“[Well... yes. Yes, I am.]”
“[What *is* he?]” Stephan asked, having joined the crowd to see whatever it was that had caught their attention so.
“[...Your... foster brother.]”
One of the female animal handlers spoke now, leaning towards Margali in a question, eyes on the little furry boy. “[Is he... an *elf*?]”
“[Psshhhh No.]”
“[Demon?]”
“[*No!*}”
“[...Imp?]”
Margali sighed. “[He’s just...]” The child sneezed in his sleep, face contorting for a moment, little nose wrinkling before awaking and beginning to wail at consciousness itself. She picked him up, cradling him to her chest, and the crying slowly stopped, turning back into the tiny sounds of slumber. Her mouth twitched in a tiny, rewarded smile. “[A boy. Who happens to resemble some sort of...]”
“[Elfin imp-demon?]” The handler offered. Margali sighed, and there was a distinct beat of silence before another question permeated the air.
“[What’s his name?]”
*****
KURT WAGNER
~Eleven months old~
*****
“[That’s it, my little one, that’s the way.]” Margali crouched, calves aching, arms outstretched as she coaxed her child to come towards her. He made a decent effort at a step, and kept himself balanced, coming forwards with an impossible grin on his face.“[*Good*. Good boy, a step at a time.]” He made a final step, feet moving almost paw-like, and then stumbled towards her open arms, releasing a happy laugh as he did so. She picked him up then, and commended his work.
“[You learn to walk first— then to fly – on the trapeze. You’ll become the greatest acrobat of them all.]” He laughed again, tail swishing back and forth, while his brother watched on from the shadow, observing the scene, listening to their interaction.
“[How does *that* sound, my littlest boy?]” She cooed, oblivious. “[My most special boy.]” Stephan walked over to the two, and tugged at his mother’s skirts.
“[Mama, when do the shows start?]” He asked, indicating the sunset colours of the trees; an autumn occurrence.
“[Twelve more days, Stephan.]” She answered, beginning to walk towards her home, infant child in one arm, and hand of a young one in the other. “[Why?]” He shrugged as he watched her place Kurti down on a table, and walked over and initiated a crude thumb war-esque game with his tail.
“[Just curious, that’s all.]” Kurti’s tail wrapped around his thumb and the small boy laughed gleefully at his victory. Stephan engaged in a rematch and his eyes darted between the game and Margali herself. “[I thought maybe... I could be a part of it?]” the end of his sentence curled up in a question, voice growing higher with uncertainty. Margali’s mouth twitched in an amused smile, and she bent down for a moment to kiss the boy’s head.
“[Oh? And what would you do there?]” She asked, her voice drowned out by clamour of metal on metal as she removed various cooking implements from where they were held, readying to prepare. Stephan busied himself in the game, and shrugged his shoulders, not quite embarrassed.
“[You said that when Kurti learns to walk, he can be on the trapeze, and I already *can* walk, so...]” he looked back up at her, implications lacing every word he said. To his surprise, Margali burst out into musical laughter, and placed her pans down to look at him. Bosom and stomach rumbling with merriment, she crouched down to his level and smiled.
“[Oh, Stephan...]” she giggled. “[I didn’t mean as *soon* as Kurti could walk. No one starts real training until they’re at least... I don’t know, eight.]” Stephan puffed his cheeks. “[All right, liebchen?]”
“[OK.]” He grinned, cheeks bubbling up underneath his eyes. Margali rose from her crouch, joints cracking painlessly from immunity brought on by the common exercises of motherhood.
“[Maybe you can help me with some *magic*, hmm?]” At this, Stephan’s eyes twinkled with a childish hunger, and he went off to sit on the counter next to his foster brother. He took Kurti’s hands in his own and the two found unspoken ways to amuse themselves, mindless sibling interaction enough to make the elder brother smile, and the younger one laugh and stumble over speech that he had not as of yet mastered. Margali cooked in relative silence, and then was interrupted by a meek exclamation.
“[Mama?]”
“[Yes, Stephan?]”
“[Why are Kurti’s teeth coming in all pointy?]”
“[Kurti’s teeth already came in, liebling. There won’t be any more until he’s about two.]” She recited, well educated in the verses of childhood development.
“[No, look.]” He stated, ever adamant, trying to contort himself to an angle such that he could look up at his infant brother’s top teeth as he perched somewhat clumsily on the counter. “[There’s new ones. And they’re coming in pointy.]” Sighing, Margali looked at her pot, watched bubbles straining to reach the top of the water in her pot, but fizzling out midway through. She wiped her hands on her apron and took a step towards her son.
“[All right, Stephan, where?]”
“[*There*.]” He said, one finger extended towards Kurti’s mouth, the unashamedly satisfied look on his face stating that it was impossible to miss the accusedly pointy teeth he was presenting to her. She bent to Kurti’s level and coaxed him to open his mouth, placing one hand around the chin and one on the top of his head. The child obliged with a light purring sound and she tilted his head back, looking at where the ‘pointy teeth’ should have been.
Margali gasped. Canines that shouldn’t have been there for at least another year were protruding from soft pink gums, gleaming white, looking slightly intrusive, surreal. Evidently, they were not fully grown, but rivalled all his other teeth in length, clearly striving to be longer. And to Margali’s utter confusion, they were... for lack of a better word, pointy.
“[*See?*]” quipped Stephan. “[Pointy. They look like the tigers’.]” He noted. And he was right. The fangs were pretty much the same. Margali allowed Kurti to close his mouth and looked over at her older son.
“[Well, I don’t know why. That’s just the way Gott made him.]” Stephan seemed satisfied with that answer, and growing bored with sitting by his mother’s side as she worked, he lifted Kurti up unsteadily and carried him off with the announcement that they were going to go play.
“[OK, Kurti.]” Stephan said, holding up a ball as the two sat outside of their own house. “[Catch.]” He rolled the ball along the ground and Kurti’s head followed it until it landed between his own legs. He held the little coloured rubber sphere with six fingers and looked to his elder brother quizzically for approval.
“[Now *roll* it back to me.]” He directed, gesticulating exuberantly with his arms. Kurti looked to the ball, then to his brother, and his face lit up in understanding. He pushed his arms forward with all the strength he could muster, and the little sphere propelled towards Stephan, who caught it easily and almost immediately threw it back, far too hard and high. It fell in a slow arch towards the ground and bounced on the soil, propelling upwards, until landing on top of the house, blocking out the sun. Kurti, smiling with adventurousness, turned onto his stomach and walked on all fours until he reached the building. Stephan, turning his head for the nearest adult, did not notice his brother’s new discovery and then turned back towards him, and gasped.
*****
Margali was sifting out the right amount of salt onto her spoon, slowly shaking her container until the white crystals slid out, ever so slowly.
“[Steady...]” she mumbled. “[a little more...]” The large, silver spoon was nearly full now, the mountain of white threatening to spill over the edges. “[Almost full...]”
“[MAMA!]” Margali jumped, fumbling with her utensils, and cursed as half the total container poured relentlessly into her cauldron. She sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. {I suppose today’s soup will have to be extra salty.}
“[Yes, Stephan?]” She said, coating her voice with so much sweetness not to sound annoyed it made her mouth feel thick.
“[Um... come here.]”
She sighed, and hastily added some sugar to the concoction, shrugging as she did so. It wouldn’t be ready for a few minutes. Wiping her hands again, she walked outside, only to see Stephan standing outside the house, mouth open, staring towards the wall adjacent to him.
“[What, Stephan? What is it? Where’s Kur-]” Now mother and child both stared at the wall, equal expressions on their faces, and watched as Kurti, with tail wagging behind him like a joyful dog’s, climbed up the wall, holding onto the *wall* itself. They watched in stunned silence as he made his way to the top, scampered onto the platform of the roof, and grabbed the ball, throwing it down at Stephan with a squeal.
“[How is he *doing* that?]” Margali asked as he slowly made his way down the wall, head first. Stephan looked back at her.
“[That’s just the way Gott made him.]”
*****
HIDE AND SEEK
~Five years old~
*****
“[Supper’s almost ready!]” Margali called to her three children, one hand stirring a large pot while the other held it in place. “[Be here in *fifteen* minutes.]” She poured in about half her container’s worth of salt; since four and a half years ago, that combination got great reactions out of most of the troupe.
“[But, mama!]” She heard a small girl call from somewhere behind her. “[I can’t find Stephan *or* Kurti!]” Margali sighed and lifted a tit of soup into her mouth, taste-testing.
“[Feur!]” She called. “[Go help Jimaine find Stephan and Kurti.]” The strongman grinned as he rushed past Margali and hefted her daughter up onto his shoulders.
“[All right, liebling, do you see anyone *now*?]” He asked. The girl narrowed her eyes in preparation for a hunt and scoured whatever grounds she could see from her position with them. There was naught but tents and trees and houses for now, and she could see the trapeze setup, towering above it all, a circus guardian, with a touch of a red bandana peeking out from behind one of the columns...
“[There!]” She pointed to the bandana and her fire-eating consort dutifully stalked over and pulled Stephan out by the scruff. Pouting, the boy looked up at Feur, dangerously twinkling eyes accusing him a traitor, and the man simply shrugged. “[Found you!]” Jimaine shouted, grinning all the while. “[Now come on, help me find Kurti.]”
The three walked around the entire perimeter of the grounds before unanimously deciding that Kurti was *inside* something, and rather, not behind it. Sabu, who had been watching their hunt with growing amusement, decided to partake in the sleuthing along with the children and Feur.
“[What could he be inside of, children? You all outgrew those all little hiding spots, remember?]” Stephan shook his head.
“[No, Kurti can still do it. We found him inside the *soup pot* once.]” Sabu searched Feur’s face for traces of a lie.
“[Really? How’d he get *in* there?]”
“[Kurti can kind of fold himself up to get inside *anywhere*.]” Stephan recalled with growing spitefulness. “[I don’t know, he puts his legs around his arms or something and he’s *three* times smaller!]”
“[*Really?*]” asked Sabu. “[Now that is interesting.]” Then, after a moment’s pause, Feur asked:
“[Have you checked the trees?]” Jimaine looked up at him, and Stephan grinned.
“[No, actually we haven’t. Let’s go.]” And the group made their way towards the trees that surrounded the circus grounds and their homes, a gate of forestry.
“[Where can we start looking?]” Jimaine asked, suddenly intimidated by all the huge, towering plants. “[There so *many*.]”
“[Knowing Kurti...]” Stephan said, gazing upwards with a speculative brow. “[We look *up*.]” Taking the boy’s example, Sabu craned his head up, trying to see between the twining branches of the trees, separating them with his eyes, a mental surgery.
Jimaine, of course, not yet patient enough to sift through the forestry, claimed it all looked the same, as did Stephan, after a while. Feur saw a deep shadow between two of the trees, mere black against the wood, but squinted his eyes to see a branched part in the sunlight, where a thick blue rope was wrapped securely about.
“[I see you, Kurti!]” Feur said, pointing at the boy with a thick finger. “[I see your tail.]” The little crowd from below all took notice of the appendage and waited silently for some development, gazing upwards. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two glowing lights penetrated the darkness, and looked down towards the tail wrapped around the branch.
“[*AW*, I was *sure* I was all in the shadows!]” A voice came from the lights. And then a figure popped out from the blackness, now visible in the light. The figure unwrapped his tail from the branch and perched himself on it, grinning like a fool, fangs now visible as well in the shrouding blackness. “[Did I win?]” He asked, looking to Jimaine. She sighed and hung her head, blonde hair falling in waves around her face.
“[Yes, you won... But it’s not fair, you can’t hide in *trees*.]” Kurti made a face of utter disagreement and then climbed down the tree skilfully before jumping off from halfway down the height, turning in the air slightly to land in a perch.
“[Yes, I can! You never said ‘no hiding in trees’.]” Feur smirked.
“[That’s true, Jimaine. You never said ‘no hiding in trees’.]” Bested, she conceded and Kurti stood upright, beaming from a victory.
“[Do we have time for one more?]” Kurti asked, looking at Feur hopefully. The man turned back to Margali, who looked hard at work, and shrugged.
“[I don’t see why not.]” The children cheered and Stephan set to closing his eyes and counting downwards from seventy seven (their predetermined number).
“[Feur,]” Sabu started, an air of inquisitiveness around him. “[Has Kurti been practicing that wall-climbing that he does? He’s gotten quite good.]” The larger man nodded.
“[Yes, he has.]”
“[And what about the way he jumped down? Impressive stuff for a five year old.]” Feur shrugged, not knowing where the elder man was heading with his observations.
“[I guess so.]”
“[...Four, three, two, one! Here I come!]” Stephan called and then took off running towards the cluster of homes, bandana flying behind his head like some sort of superman. Soon enough, he turned a corner, disappearing from the adults’ view, and a moment later, he came out with a grumbling Jimaine behind him and a grin plastered on his face.
“[Ok, now we look for Kurti.]” After a moment’s pause: “[Let’s check the kitchen first.]”
*****
The kitchen was a small square room with one stove, a huge cupboard beneath it for supplies, and various other fixtures strewn across the walls. Translation: A perfect hiding spot. First, Stephan commanded everyone, with the prowess of both a showman and an army general to look *around* the building *and* on top of it. Jimaine, very much enjoying the charade and the prospect of her foster brother as enemy, gave a mock salute and bounded off.
“[Mama, did you see him?]” He asked, appraising Margali as she intently stared at a pot of soup, wooden spoon in hand, preparing to strike if the need arose. Keeping her lips in a tight line to withhold smiling, she shrugged.
“[I can’t say.]” She said, and let out a snort of laughter before quickly regaining her composure, avoiding his eyes. {Just look at the soup... not at your weirdly entertaining children... only the soup.} Stephan snaked around the kitchen, eyes squinted, deadly. All the cupboards, at the top and bottom of the kitchen, had curved ceilings, kind of domed, allowing lots of room for anyone, *especially* amateur contortionists like Kurti.
Stephan furrowed his brow. But which of them was he in? So he began opening and closing all of them, starting with the large pots and pans one under the sink. But that one was completely filled with... pots and pans. So he looked through each and every one, climbing inside, and seeing nothing.
Next he moved large things out of the way, looking behind them in case Kurti had developed the ability to make himself flat. Margali watched this all with passive amusement, and watched until everything had been moved and moved back, every cupboard had been thoroughly climbed into, and Stephan was going through them all again.
“[Supper’s ready!]” Margali then called, apologetically waving her spoon at Stephan’s forlorn expression, an exchange made subconsciously, food for peace. Jimaine, along with Feur and Sabu, and one of the local acrobats made their way into the tiny kitchen. “[Everyone who wants soup come *now* before it runs out!]” They made their way to grab a bowl for themselves, and then Sabu and Stephan watched, entranced, as the first cabinet opened again, ghost-like.
From above the pots and pans, a spine that had actually bent itself to the groove of the top, straightened out, and golden lights opened, before the figure crawled, from above the pots, out of the cupboard, fell onto the floor, and somersaulted slowly as not to hurt himself, grabbing a bowl out of Stephan’s hands at the end of the trick. Kurti flashed a grin at Stephan, Sabu, and then Margali before turning to her with pleading eyes.
“[Can I have some soup?]”
*****
“[...No.]”
“[But, Margali, please just listen, I-]”
“[*No*.]”
“[Can I just have five minutes to-]”
“[To what?]”
“[To explain to you that this is really a good idea and-]”
“[Why?]”
“[Why? Why is it a good idea? OK, um, first off, there’s less people coming in every year, and the acts are getting stale and I think that if you think about it, he’s really-]”
“[It’s dangerous.]”
“[That’s what I’m saying, I think that for him, it’ll actually-]”
“[He’s too young.]”
“[Yes, he’s young, but he shows more ability than-]”
“[It’s still a no.]”
“[But *I’ll* be the one who’s-]”
“[What part of no don’t you understand, Sabu?]”
“[...Are you going to let me finish a-]”
“[No.]”
Sabu sighed, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers as he rested his elbows on his thighs. Margali sat across from him, face set in stubborn resilience, and looked as if she was holding her own quite well, flicking a piece of black hair behind her head idly.
“[Ok, Margali, just hear me out. PLEASE?]” He nearly begged.
Sigh. “*Fine*. I’m hearing you-.”
“[No, no, *actually* hear me out.]” Margali waved her hands in surrender, and then gestured an introduction for Sabu, ‘Please continue.’
“[All right, firstly, I understand that Kurti’s only five as of now-]” Margali opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it quickly, true to her word. “[And I know that that’s very young. But I think he’s shown a lot more talent *already* than some of the acrobats we have. Performing. Honestly.]”
Margali licked her lips, trying to hide the fact that she was the slightest bit proud of this, if anything.
“[Now, while even if I saw talent, I would usually not recruit a five year old to start training. Because it’s usually dangerous. But there are many reasons why I think that it won’t be NEARLY as dangerous for Kurti, all of which I have thoroughly thought out before I came here trying to convince you.]”
Margali raised a brow. And then the second.
“[All right, first off, he has a tail. That can grab on to things. Ergo, 25% more grip. I’m not including the fact that his feet can grab as well as his hands, mind you. Next off, he can *stick* to *walls*. If that’s not an advantage on, say, the trapeze, than nothing is.]”
Margali readied to say something, but Sabu cut her off.
“[Third, he’s lean and fast and has perfect balance. Perfect physique for an acrobat, and... well, balance. And then there’s his *spine*.]”
Margali, getting antsy, now looked slightly confused.
“[What about his spine?]” She asked, though she was pretty sure she had a vague idea of the answer.
“[Margali, his spine can bend unlike anyone’s I’ve ever seen. He made a reverse arch today WHILE sticking. To walls. Inside a *cupboard*. And then he did a somersault after coming out.]” Margali looked away now, because this all was true.
“[But he’s so *young*...” Sabu leaned forwards, having the upper hand in the discussion now. His eyes were twinkling with eagerness, and he took a wide breath through his nose.
“[Think about it, Margali. He can be great. Maybe become the greatest acrobat of them all.]” Her eyes flashed to Sabu’s now, meeting them, hearing her words back to her. “[Well?]” He pressed. “[Will you let me train him?]”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the decision had already been made.
*****
TRAINING
~Eight years old~
*****
Swing, swing, flip.
Two, three.
Flip, catch, four, freeze, hold, tail, five, six, drop.
Seven, fall, fall, bar.
Twirl, flip, fall, eight, nine, hold, jump.
Ten.
Grab, twirl, straighten, eleven, release, tail, twelve, swing back.
Bar, balance, balance, thirteen, fourteen, walk.
Walk, walk, walk.
Fifteen, sixteen.
Bridge, hold feet, walk, careful... seventeen.
Fall off side, fall, eighteen, flip, catch, handstand, nineteen...
Around, flip, twirl, change position, feet, land, hold...
Twenty.
Kurti straightened himself up; arms extended to the sky, and, panting, turned to his family, watching from the sidelines. Sabu glared at his mother with a kind of vengeance in his eyes, and Kurti’s cheeks ached from grinning, and his arms and legs and tail were on fire.
“[Was that any good?]”
And they all burst into applause.
Margali just stared in shock. Sabu had not let her sit in for any practices since the very first few three years ago, when she had insisted, and she evidently missed quite a bit. The routine was clean, cleaner than most routines she’d seen. Sabu rushed up to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“[Very good, lad, very good indeed! In fact...]” he said, looking at Margali all the while. “[I think you’re ready for your first show.]”
*****
“[Sabu... let’s talk.]” Margali said, and Sabu looked over at Kurti, who was still puffing and blowing, and beaming with praise. Sabu followed, and Margali recruited Feur and one of the acrobats, an Annelies Kauffmann to come with her. They sat on the grass as Kurti tried to drink his weight in water while Jimaine and Stephan made comments from the side.
“[OK, that was good.]” She admitted, and at a look from Sabu, reprimanded to “[*great*, even.]” He leaned back in his seat, appeased. “[But *how* is he going to perform in a circus production?]”
“[Well, we’d have to make him a costume.]” Said Annelies, referring to the mercilessly tattered shorts Kurti wore now, held up only by the collective willpower of everyone around. She then added, nervously twirling her claret curls: “[One with a tail hole...]”
“[With all due respect, Annelies, I don’t think Margali was referring to the costume.]” Annelies turned a shade to match her hair before muttering an affirmation.
“[Right, remember what happened when I tried to get him into that school with a photo?]” Margali asked, Kurti constantly in her peripheral vision as he galloped after Stephan with Jimaine on his back, some sort of imaginative chase. Feur gritted his teeth.
“[Well, why did you let Sabu train him if you’re not going to let him perform?]” Sabu had the sense to look slightly abashed.
“[I convinced her.]” Feur cracked his fingers absently in thought.
“[I’m afraid for what would happen if he was sent out in front of people.]”
“[Yes,]” Annelies confirmed, “[he’s not cute anymore.]” This response got a look of shock out of the men and one of liquid death from Margali’s steel grey eyes.
“[What? My son is not *cute* enough for your tastes, Annelies?]” The girl’s face grew in redness, freckles around her cheeks dimming out in the heat of embarrassment. She shifted positions, trying to escape the sorceress’ gaze.
“[No, it’s not that, it’s just... OK, remember when Elli, eight years ago, said that he resembled—]”
“[An elfin imp-demon? Yes, I remember.]” Annelies nodded.
“[Right, well, when he was a baby, and had those pudgy cheeks and huge eyes and the big ears and all that, he kind of *did* look like a cute little elf.]” Margali narrowed her liquid death gaze, adding precision. “[That’s not a bad thing,]” Annelies hurriedly blathered on, “[but it was easy to get used to the... general blueness and all that when he was a cute little elf.]” The girl bit at a nail.
“[So what are you saying?]”
“[Well, he was kind of... different looking to begin with, you can’t disagree with that.]”
“[And you said it yourself,]” added Feur “[No orphanage would take him in.]” Annelies continued.
“[But it wasn’t really because he was *scary* looking then, wouldn’t you agree?]” Her eyes begged, please, please agree.
“[Are you saying that he wasn’t scary looking then, but he *is* now? Does Kurti’s ‘general blueness’ scare you, Annelies?]” Her voice dripped with something cleaner than venom, but stung all the same.
“[Well, no- no, of *course* not,]” the girl said, fumbling over linguistics. “[But now, it’s just, he’s outgrown the pudgy cheeks, he’s more of a growing up little boy, lean and that. And so- so you wouldn’t call him *cute* now, would you? I mean, not you, but anyone, because he’s more of a handsome boy now, rather than cute, growing and such. And so, he has fangs now and is grown, and blends in with shadows, and not to us, but to some, maybe it’s a little unnerving, you know- the- um-tail and such- and, well, the pudginess is gone-]” Annelies looked as if her head would explode.
“[Spit it out, girl!]”
“[- and he’s getting closer to looking like the demon part.]” The small crowd went silent, and Annelies’ cheeks were cooling down, and now were back to their pale hue. Margali, however, let out a deep exhale.
“[That’s what the teacher said when I tried to get him enrolled.]” Margali confessed. “[Is that what Kurti looks like to other people?]” Sabu peeked out from underneath his hat, and spoke.
“[If so, it’s not a good idea for him to be performing.]” The next line was directed at Margali. “[*You* shouldn’t have let me convince you into letting me train him.]” Margali turned her gaze to the bearded man, and he cringed.
“[All right,]” she said, and her expression went into a blanker slate. “[But *you* enjoy explaining that to Kurti.]”
*****
When Sabu walked into Kurti’s room, he was a flushed violet, doing a handstand with one arm, and Stephan sat beside him, tapping his finger. Kurti’s crucifix necklace bumped against his nose.
“[You can’t do it, Kurti.]” He said, looking over at the clock placed on the floor. “[Maybe if you learn some *magic*, like me, you-]”
“[Stephan...]” Kurti warned, eyes frantically searching around the room while sweat trickled down his fur. “[I have *forty* seconds left. I’ll do it. *Without* any magic.]” He added with the hints of an ego.
“[Trying to become as good as your older brother, huh?]” Stephan asked, unashamedly taunting.
“[Stephan, please. If I was trying to be *as good* as you, I’d have quit 300 seconds ago.]” He said with a strained, sarcastic tone.
“[...Shut up and do it for 11 more seconds. ... Ten.]”
“[Nine.]” Sabu popped up, entering the room, and Kurti grinned, new determination. “[Eight.]” Now both trainer and brother were unanimously announcing a countdown, and Kurti relished in the glory of it. “[One.]” They whispered, and Kurti fell down onto the floor, eyes glistening with humour and exhilaration, arms throbbing in glorious pain. Sabu leaned over him as Stephan sighed.
“[I did it.]” He said. “[*500* seconds. That’s 8 and a third minutes.]” He clarified, face flushed purple with pain, pride, and victory.
“[Yes, Kurti, very good. Now come, I want to talk with you.]” He said, radiating gentleness from every pore. Kurt stood, arms throbbing, a Cheshire grin on his face, and followed Sabu as they left the room to go into Sabu’s. He stopped for a moment then, and went back in.
“[Let me change first.]” The door closed and Sabu stood outside, planning an epic speech. Kurti called out to him from behind it, though. “[*How* good? Good enough to... start performing in the show?]” His voice went up so high at the last word with excitement, that Sabu twitched an eye.
“[Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.]” Kurti opened the door, still grinning in bright orange pyjamas, and Sabu sighed... {This is not going to be easy.}
*****
“[What do you mean, you don’t want me to perform?]”
“[Well, it’s just-]”
“[Is it my age?]”
“[No, not really, but we all-]”
“[Have I not been practicing enough? I’ll practice more if you want me to.]” Sabu sighed. The boy had picked up his mother’s annoying little argument habit. He was surprised if he was permitted to get a word in edgewise.
“[Gott, no. You’re been practicing very well, my boy. Any more and I’m afraid you might kill yourself. We just-]”
“[Is it because I’m not good enough?]” He asked sadly, and Sabu lost his edge in the conversation.
“[Of course not, Kurti. It’s just...]”he shifted positions, now facing the boy directly and they both sat down on the bed. “[It’s like this. Some people might not be... *ready* for your...]”
“[Act?]”
“[*Special*ness.]”
Kurti blinked and tilted his head to the side.
“[...You know, Kurti... some people are not ready for the... way you... *are*.]”
“[The way I am? What way am I?]”
“[Different.]” Now it was Sabu’s turn to blink. “[Don’t you see it?]” Kurti shook his head. “[Some people will not like that you are... special.]”
“[So you and mama think I shouldn’t go in the show?]”
“[Yes.]” The boy seemed to be understanding. Good.
“[Because I’m...]” he leaned his head forward. “[different.]”
“[Yes.]” Kurti looked down.
“[So you and mama don’t like that? Don’t like... me?]” Sabu’s eyes went wide. {No, no, no, no, no. *Not* good.}
“[Of course not, Kurti. We love you.]” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, careful to keep the fur from going the wrong way.
“[But you don’t want me to be in the show.]” {Damn it. Misinterpretation.}
“[Well, it’s not me and your mama that are going to be watching-]”
“[Stephan and Jimaine and Annelies and the circus people don’t seem to mind me.]”
“[Well, yes, they love you too, of course.]”
“[And,]” he looked at himself, trying to see himself clearly for the first time. “[*they* don’t care about whatever differences I have. They didn’t ever, even when they met me for the first time, when I was a baby.]” He looked up to Sabu, turning the statement into a question.
“[*No*, they didn’t- don’t,-]”
“[So how do you know the audience people will?]”
*****
Sabu crept out of Kurt’s room with the utmost silence, feet pressing onto the floor gently as a breath, and closed the door silently. When he turned around, it was dark out, the black of a late night, and he went off to find Margali. He found Feur instead, waiting outside the house, enjoying the calm of the moon. The larger man turned around at his arrival.
“[Well, Sabu? Did you tell him?]” Sabu bit his lip and shrugged; failure.
“[I *tried*,]” he said, holding his arms out in exasperation, sincerity. “[But I swear, it’s as if the boy never noticed he was blue.]” Sabu walked over to Feur, and the two men sat down on the thick grass, feeling change on the horizon, sweeping over them like fog, creeping up onto their shoulders.
“[So?]”
“[So we’re going to have to get him fitted for a costume.]” Feur smiled.
“[I already have.]”
*****
The conversation took place in the middle of the night, inside a crowded, too small circus tent that looked bleak on the outside in the dark, but sang with life on the inside, with the smell of coffee and debate and family filling it up. There was Margali, Annelies, The Seamstress Gaia, Feur, Sabu, and Stephan, now twelve.
“[So, what you’re saying is: We need a way to make Kurti seem like a regular performer.]” Stephan summarized, bringing a steaming cup of too-hot liquid to his lips, unwilling to admit it burned his tongue.
“[Right.]”
“[...Makeup?]” Everyone stared at Stephan.
“[*No.*]” said Feur. “[Besides, how do you get makeup on fur?]”
“[... We could *shave* him.]” This time, Stephan’s comment was politely ignored.
“[OK, so no makeup. We couldn’t hide the fur anyways. Or the eyes. Or the-]”
“[Yes, yes, Gaia, there’s a lot to hide.]” Margali agreed. “[Maybe we’re playing this wrong. What did *you* first think when you saw Kurti?]”
This released a lot of different answers, all sounding at the same time.
Sabu: “[I don’t know, I guess I was a little shocked at first... but I just reacted like people react when there’s a baby.]”
Annelies: “[I wondered what that purring thing was... then I thought he was cute.]”
Stephan: “[I don’t remember.]”
Feur: “[I wondered if he was real at *first*, I guess.]”
Gaia: “[I was wondering how to make pants for a tail and gloves for three fingers and...]” Margali blinked, taking this in.
“[Feur.]” She said, then, and everyone shut up. “[If he was real?]” The large man nodded an affirmation and gulped down half of his cup, smacking his lips.
“[Well, only at first, I thought perhaps it was a costume.]” Everyone looked at him then, and he recoiled.
“[What?]” ... “[*Oh.*]” Gaia spoke.
“[You want everyone to think it’s a *costume*?]” She hissed the last word, steam from her beverage seemingly flying out of her mouth
“[Why not? We won’t say a thing to them or Kurti, he can just be happy people like his act, and they’ll just assume he’s a costume. No one will know how he dresses like that; it might become a famous performance.]” Margali crossed her arms, satisfied, and smiled, motherly, accomplished. Then her smile fell as Stephan decided to pipe up.
“[What about the tail, mama?]” Annelies pursed her lips.
“[Can he wrap it around his waist or something?]”
“[*No*.]” Sabu said, looking appalled at the very notion. “[It’s a huge part of his performance. He needs it for balance and he grabs on to things with it a lot. It’s a *huge* part of his routine.]”
“[All right,]” said Gaia with a smirk. “[Let the audience try to figure out how we made the tail. I’d *love* to hear some of the rumours that get created.]”
“[There’s just one problem, though.]” Margali interjected. “[People will be really confused if we suddenly have a performer in a... Kurti-costume for no reason.]”
Then there was a pause, and the smell of caffeine grew stronger.
“[Why don’t we have some kind of story prepared for Kurti?]” Asked Gaia. “[We used to do acts with plots.]”
“[What kind of story would have a character that looks like Kurti?]” This from Stephan.
“[An elf story.]” Answered Margali, presenting one option to the others. Stephan shook his head, and took another sip of his scalding beverage.
“[That won’t work, no one will get that.]”
“[How do you know?]”
“[Because the elf thing is only in the ears. He looks... a little scarier than an elf.]”
“[Ste*fan*!]”
“[I’m sorry, but it’s true! *Elves* don’t stick to walls or have little devil-tails, or blend into shadows.]”The boy crossed his arms over his chest. A pause and Feur spoke up again, in all seriousness this time.
“[Now everyone, remember... this is a... *delicate* situation. No one tell Kurti they think he’s a costume. I *doubt* he’d take that very well.]” Eyes all around were set downwards. “[He’ll never know.]”
*****
“[I don’t understand.]” Said Kurti. “[You want me to be *summoned* by witches?]” Feur rubbed the back of his head. When said out loud, it did not sound like the best idea. “[What am I supposed to be, a little demon-boy?]” Annelies blushed.
“[Kurti.]” said Sabu. “[It’s a very interesting routine. I wrote it just for you. And its *hard*. Do you think you’re up to it?]”
“[Well, yes.]” the boy defended, indignant in his change of posture. “[But *why* a little demon-boy?]” Margali flinched. She *really* wished he would stop phrasing it like that. It made her feel like a terrible person for even agreeing to it, and each time he called himself a demon-boy, she nearly jumped at the chance to take back the suggestion, stop following through with this idea.
“[Because... we think that it’ll give you a good excuse to go into shadows.]”
“[Oh.]” He seemed pleased with this. “[And because of the tail.]” Sabu blinked. “[I’m starting to notice some... differences.]” Kurti whispered. “[But I’ll do the show.]”
“[Great! We start training in a week. Now go off and do something fun.]” He said, pushing the boy away, and Kurti went off to find his foster-siblings, running off on all fours to leave Sabu completely mystified.
“[Why in a week?]”
“[I need to write the routine.]”
*****
Kurti and Stephan were sparring in the grass, staining clothes and fur and not caring in the least because there were so few days perfect like this for sparring, and clothes and fur could always be washed again. And Jimaine, little six-nearly seven year old Jimaine, watched with a kind of glee as her blonde hair shone in the sun, and her brothers rolled on the grass before her. Currently, Stephan was bending Kurti’s leg back so that it neared his head, and Kurti appeared to be in light pain.
“[Ah, little brother, you are still *too* small. Like Jimi.]” Jimaine giggled. Kurti strained and flushed his face, and then grinned.
“[Small, yes.]” He said, and then flipped under him, pushing him off with a handstanded thrust. Then he went on Stephan’s back and sat on it, twisting his arm behind his back. “[But flexible.]” He pushed Stephan’s head onto the grass with his foot, and Jimi cackled.
“[BMLRF!]” He said and then they were rolling again.
“[I’m going to be in the show next time the circus is in town. That’s a little more than a year.]” The boy suddenly said, proudly.
“[Really?]” Stephan gawked, proud and surprised and jealous all at once. He was still an *amateur* at any sorcery whatsoever. “[What story did they go with?]” Kurti was wriggling out of Stephan’s grasp as they spoke. Jimaine, choosing to be on Stephan’s side, was helping by throwing small fistfuls of grass onto his face, and taking immense pleasure in the activity.
“[I get to get summoned as a demon.]” Stephan smiled and tightened his grasp a little tighter, and Kurti grunted.
“[Suits you.]” Kurti spat out clumps of grass and looked to his brother, wide golden eyes a little hurt.
“[What?]” He tightened his grip more, and flipped Kurti over, crushing his tail under his weight.
“[Ow, Stephan...]”
“[Well, don’t you see it?]”
“[See *what*? ... ow, can you get off my tail?]” He kept his position.
“[I just mean the little tail and blue fur and eyes and all. Demonic, no?]” His eyes singed with a type of stinging malice, and Kurti looked up at him, now plainly insulted.
“[Stephan... I—you think I look demonic?]” His voice was hurt. Then the malice disappeared as quickly as it came and Kurti was released from his grip, much to Jimaine’s dismay.
“[Sorry, brother. That was mean; I don’t know why I said that.]” Kurt slowly stretched out his tail and rubbed at his arms. “[Of course you don’t.]”
“[It’s ok.]” A pregnant pause engulfed the children, before Jimaine, whom they had assumed was oblivious to the conversation, piped up.
“[What’s your stage name going to be, Kurti?]” Both boys looked over at her with a quiet surprise, before Kurti picked her up onto his shoulders and gave her a faint smile.
“[I don’t know.]” he said. “[But it should be something cool... and maybe kind of ominous.]” He dropped his voice at the end, the effect making Jimaine laugh.
“[Superkurti?]” she suggested, in all seriousness.
“[I don’t think so, Jimi.]”
“[How about I write your introduction?]” Stephan asked, amusement cropping up.
“[No- I don’t think so.]” Kurt chided.
“[Oh come on!]” He said, posing himself, every inch the ringmaster. “[Ladies and gentlemen, beloved audience of Die Zirkus Gelhaar, allow me to introduce to you our finest attraction.]”
“[Stephan...]” but he was grinning too.
“[... an acrobat from the depths of hell himself, the most *vicious* elf in all of Winzeldorf, no, in all of *Germany*!]” he continued. Kurti was laughing now.
“[And of course,]” he held up Jimaine to the world. “[His lovely assistant, Jimaine Szardos!]” He threw her up and caught her, not quite easily, and then put her down as she twirled around, delirious with fantasy.
“[The lively damsel, lovely maiden, beautiful Jimaine will perform on the *death* defying trapeze with our very own creature of the dark, the prowler of shadows, the *scourer* of the night, the *crawler* of the walls, the-]”
“[Did you just come up with those?]” Kurti asked and his brother beamed.
“[Yep. Why, do you like them?]”
“[Yeah, I do like them, actually. Not really the first one, but the other three, yes.]”
“[Wallcrawler, Nightscourer, and Shadowprowler?]” Kurti grinned.
“[Yes, those. Maybe I’ll make one of them my stage name. What do you think? They’re pretty evil sounding.]”
“[All right, but which one?]”
“[I honestly don’t know.]” Kurti then leaped suddenly, bending in the air, and landing on his arms, spine straightened out.
“[Hmm... they all sound cool. Which one do I do more, then? Scour, prowl, or crawl?]” He flipped back onto his front and bounded back towards his sister, perching to join her. He waited on Stephan’s answer.
“[Define crawl.]” Kurti thought about it, eyes traveling upwards in thought.
“[Travel on four limbs.]”
“[Crawl, then.]” Kurti seemed to agree by the arch of his brows, and then grimaced.
“[But *wall* crawler? Like that, it doesn’t sound very... evil.]”
“[You’re right. What would you prefer to crawl, then? The shadows or the night?]” Kurti’s eyes sparkled with a kind of reminiscence, a private elation, and he prepared his title, breathed it in.
“[The night.]” Stephan clapped him on the shoulder, and the sun set on the two brothers, standing amongst a darkening world.
“[Nightcrawler it is.]”
*****
The needle wove in and out of fabric, and Gaia’s able hands flew and moved material around the figure of the squirming boy standing on her pedestal, preparing a costume that would soon be his.
“[Stand still, Kurti!]” The seamstress commanded, ripping a piece of thread apart with her teeth, and he felt another prick in his skin, which made him squirm more, away from her grip.
“[But you’re *pricking* me.]” A blue tail coiled anxiously behind him, and slapped her on the shoulder; narrowly she avoided stabbing him with another tiny silver spear. With a grim, stoic determination, she continued her crusade over the costume as Kurti’s arms were growing sore and tired from standing straight out and cruciform. He squirmed.
“[It’ll hurt *more* if you squirm.]” her tone added ‘I’ll make sure of that.’ and Kurti stilled, smartly so. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself flying through the trapeze, cheers background music to the symphony of his performance, and he tried to see himself dressed the way the picture had looked. The picture Gaia had shown him, that he’d worked with her to make and he knew it was right, when it was done, he just knew this was the one. ‘I want it just like the picture.’ He’d specified. ‘Just like that.’
“[How’s it turning out?]” He asked, impatient, turning his head back around to address her. “[You’re making it just like the picture, right?]” Gaia grabbed his tail and placed it in his hand roughly, clearly agitated by the limb’s incessant movement.
“[For the last time, yes. Now hold *still*.]” and then he felt another prick. He was starting to think they were on purpose.
“[It’s looking great.]” Margali assured him. “[You’ll be my little blue lightning.]” He smiled at empty air.
“[Nightcrawler, mama.]”
“[What?]”
“[I want to be called Nightcrawler. Do you think it sounds good?]” He looked at her, eyes glowing from inside a frame of wide lashes.
“[It’s a little... dark, isn’t it?]” She shrugged.
“[Margali,]” Gaia chided, directing Kurti to cinch a bundle of cloth. “[If you’re going to give the boy a demon’s role to play, he’s going to have to stay in character.]” Kurti beamed, triumphant, and Margali exhaled.
“[All right, but I don’t want you to-]”
“[There!]” Gaia shouted, standing and arching her back, joints creaking. “[Finished! Here you go, ‘Nightcrawler’, you can go and see.]” His arms flew down in relief, and jumped down from the pedestal, turning to the mirror in the room. He looked down at himself, all black and red and dark blue, ominous colours that did seem ready to blend in to the night, and he knew this made him look more frightening indeed, and so he grinned, fangs flashing, eyes alight.
“[Thank you, Gaia.]” he said, looking in the reflection towards the woman. “[It’s perfect.]”
*****
NIGHTCRAWLER DEBUT PERFORMANCE
~Nine years old~
*****
The audience cheered and their faces flushed, exhilarated from the last performance, and when their clamour fell silent, and a hush descended like a fog amongst them, the ringmaster was in the spotlight again. All eyes were on him. “[Ladies and gentlemen,]” he built his voice up, a crescendo. “[Boys and girls, tonight we have a new act for you, never done before in Circus Gelhaar. It is a trapeze act, one that will chill you to the bone and have you holding your breath, one that tells a tale.]” The audience began to murmur in the pregnant pause, tension building; this had not been advertised.
“[It is the tale,]” he said, topping the dull roar of the crowd, “[Of a *demon*.]” the temperature dropped as thousands of eyes twinkled in anticipation, and the ringmaster continued. “[Unlike any act you’ve ever seen, any *acrobat* you’ve ever seen in the history of the entire circus!]
“[Our acrobat, a boy of just nine years, will perform feats that defy death itself, will revolutionize the trapeze, redefine the word fantastic, all without the safety of a net.]” Another building murmur, an air of worry.
“[I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, Circus Gelhaar’s newest act, Kurt Wagner, the Incredible *Nightcrawler*!]” And the spotlight went out, darkness enveloping the crowd, and applause and cheering was the only presence. And when the lights went on again, there was nothing but a cauldron in the centre of the ring, and three ‘witches’ gathered around it.
They moved their arms and danced over the cauldron, and a soft drum played in the background. With bated breath, the audience watched as Margali, the lead witch, raised her arms to the drum’s increasing speed, and said a chant. With a percussion flourish, the chairs in the crowd creaked as the circus-goers leaned forwards in their seats.
...and then gasped as they saw a flash of blue and red and black shoot out of the cauldron, straight up, and then it went black again. When the lights reappeared, the crowd blinked back against the brightness and there was a spotlight on a ledge, where the back part of it was cloaked in shadow. The audience vaguely registered the glowing eyes, and there were whispers of excitement, approval.
“[I call out to you...]” a whisper carried across the crowd. “[...Nightcrawler...]” and then from out of the shadows, Kurt stepped forwards and the show began.
People gasped and stared, in awe, in horror, in wonder. The birth of Nightcrawler came in a series of intricate bends and moves and a soft ominous drone of notes sounded out from the background though no one was listening to that. At one point, Nightcrawler pounced from one of the very back bars with eyes of fire straight towards the crowd and they gasped even though they *knew* he was too far away to reach them. And then when he’d surpassed the very closest bar and their heads were pressed back against their seats, he caught the bar with his feet and flipped over, landing on top of it triumphantly and they cheered for this little monster who’d stolen their hearts.
*****
When he’d taken his bow from the floor, he’d given a flash of teeth and felt the sweat rushing down his body and it felt wonderful. The lights had turned on, and when they turned back, Nightcrawler had hidden in the shadow, invisible to the crowd and they’d cheered in a deafening roar of applause for the mysterious character that unknown to them, relished in every moment of it.
*****
“[Kurti, my boy, that was amazing!]” Sabu praised as Kurt, still in Nightcrawler uniform, poured water down his throat and made little nods instead of thanks for the commendations. Jimaine rushed to his side and tackled his leg in a hug. He settled for stroking her hair with a tail as more people flooded in to his small circus trailer.
“[Oh, liebling, they cheered so loud! All for you!]” Finished with the water, he looked back up at his mother.
“[So it was good?]” he grinned, unsuccessfully feigning self-consciousness. He just wanted more praise and Margali knew it.
“[Good? It was one of the best acts *here*!]” She leaned in. “[Even Annelies didn’t get as much applause.]” she joked and Annelies faked hurt. Kurt giggled and looked over at no one in particular, still breathing heavily.
“[So I can perform more this year?]” Margali passed him another bottle of water.
“[Of course! Every show for the rest of the year, you will be in.]” Eyes shone and sweat dripped and blood boiled with excitement.
“[We might even have to give you your own admission booth; so many people came.]” Kurti nearly choked on his water and it fell all around him and the fur on his chin matted down and dripped.
“[No, mama, you can’t do that! That’s only for the *lead* acrobats.]” Sabu smirked.
“[My boy, you’re well on your way.]” The pride that glowed form the boy at that one simple statement filled up the small room and its occupants like a wraith and he turned down to his sister.
“[What did you think, Jimi? Did you like the performance?]” She looked up from his leg with impossibly wide eyes of blue and crooned.
“[It was *coooool*. I want to learn to flip like that too!]” She buried her face back into his leg and muffled: “[But you looked so, *scary*, Kurti!]” He laughed out loud at that as the adults cast their eyes down almost shamefully at the floor. When Sabu looked up, however, Kurti’s eyes were on him and they were both a year ago as his answer directed squarely at the man.
“[Really? Because the crowd didn’t seem to think so.]”
*****
CIRCUS GELHAAR’S LAST SHOW FOR THE YEAR
~Almost Eleven years old~
*****
The boy with the hair spiked green that looked like that of a living bush shook his head from side to side and bush-head’s friend moved his arms in wide gestures in an effort to convince him. The second boy, slighter than the first by a head or