Post by Pilgrim John on Dec 19, 2006 18:01:29 GMT -5
Chapter Ten, Part B:
“Home” is usually a word one would associate with things like comfort, warmth, and belonging. However, Leo couldn’t seem to spot any of those things at this circus, which was “home” to Conorsla. They were twisted-looking, even from the outside. Ghoulish clowns pranced about the grounds, and deformed freaks shuffled from here to there, getting things ready for tonight’s show. The red-haired circus performer looked cautiously at the circus tents, scratching his neck.
Leo sat from behind a bush, thinking of a way they could sneak inside. Conorsla lived here, yes, but would they suspect him of his tardiness? Before Leo could think anything through, however, Conorsla was already walking towards the tents.
He tried to stop Conorsla with a verbal warning, but apparently, Conorsla was too far away for a whisper to travel. Leo groaned as he watched Conorsla walk over to the guards at the front of the performer’s cabin.
Leo craned his neck to get a good view without being spotted. The two guards didn’t seem to react to Conorsla’s presence much, just as Conorsla had apparently figured. “Griever’s mad at you again, Conorsla,” Leo overheard one of the guards.
Conorsla nodded, acknowledging what he already knew. He went into one of the cabins that was apparently his, and closed and locked the door behind him. Leo spat and sat grumpily behind his bush. Either Conorsla was getting something he’d think would be useful for sneaking Leo in, or he had abandoned Leo altogether.
Leo supposed he’d wait a few minutes for Conorsla. If he didn’t come back, he’d have to find some way in himself.
* * * * * *
Conorsla disliked the idea of calling this circus home, but his cabin certainly had a warm feel to it. He looked around sadly, recalling each fond memory he had of this room. He knew that after today, this would be the last time he’d get to see it.
In one corner was his bed, modest and clean. Lining the walls were picture frames that held the many bugs that Conorsla had collected since he was twelve. Against the front wall was a vanity set so he could put on the circus make-up for his performances. Its mirror was cracked, and it was quite dusty. A few pictures sat upon this vanity chest: one of his first attempt at trying to balance himself on a ball, another of one of his best performances (tight-rope walking), and one more of himself and Linda.
Conorsla walked over to the vanity and looked at the last picture. He picked it up and stared at it with depressed eyes. Leaving this circus behind would also mean he wouldn’t get to see Linda again. He sighed as he thought of what life would be like without her.
Linda was a spirited girl, and an excellent performer. She was an acrobatic clown who taught Conorsla many of his techniques, and encouraged him to develop his own tricks. Linda wasn’t a very tall woman, but was slender and pretty. She was a very kind person, and disapproved of Griever’s mistreatment of Conorsla (Not that she could question him, of course).
Even though he could tell Leo thought he had grown up without friends, that really wasn’t true. Linda was like two or three friends rolled into one person.
As a matter of fact, now that he thought of it, Linda was probably one step shy of becoming Conorsla’s girlfriend. He put the picture down, sighing. He knew he’d never be able to tell her in words of his feelings for her. He had lost his voice long ago when Griever had punished him for the first time. Ironically, it was also the first time he and Linda ever met.
It was almost ten years now since that day. He had been training for many weeks to ride a ball for the acrobatic act. He failed the show right in front of a paying audience, who proceeded to boo him off the stage. After the show, Griever was furious. He yelled at Conorsla for about an hour, then decided that he would have to punish him for his failure.
Four of his goons had to hold Conorsla down. Griever drew a small vial of something that didn’t look at all healthy, Conorsla could tell. He forced Conorsla’s mouth open, and poured some of the horrible substance down his throat.
What Conorsla felt next was a horrifying burning sensation all down his throat and into his stomach. Was this poison? Was he going to die? After about twenty minutes, the burning stopped. Griever locked him in his room, and denied him dinner.
Conorsla still felt a horrible burning in his throat and stomach, but it was less painful than before. After about an hour, he heard a knock at the door. Before he could answer, someone came in.
It was a female clown who looked to be about his age. She was holding a platter of food. Conorsla looked at this girl, not knowing what to say. “I was worried,” she said, “so I brought some food for you.” She set the plate on his bed, since he did not have a table.
Conorsla tried to say “thank you,” but the words couldn’t come out. In its place instead were throaty mumbles, and his throat began to burn again. Then he realized it: Griever punished him by taking away his voice.
“What’s the matter?” the girl asked. “Are you not feeling well?”
Conorsla swallowed, the pain in his throat increasing. He looked at her, horrified by his realization. He couldn’t even tell her how he was feeling.
The girl looked at him for a few seconds, then said, “Can’t you speak?”
A sad frown formed on Conorsla’s face. He couldn’t hold back his tears, and started to cry. He wasn’t able to speak, perhaps forever. He wouldn’t even be able to say his own name. The girl put her arms around him and tried to calm him down. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s all right… I’m here. Linda’s here.”
Ever since then, he and Linda became close friends. Conorsla stared at the picture a little more, not knowing how Linda might feel if he left. Suddenly, it hit him: why couldn’t he ask Linda to come with him? She was as sick of this place as he was. He was sure she’d say yes!
He put down the picture and turned, only to hear a knock at his door. Since he couldn’t reply verbally, he walked over to the door and knocked on the wall next to it. It was his way of saying, “Come in.”
The door opened, and in walked Linda. She was barely up to Conorsla’s shoulders, her short brown hair hidden under the long yellow cap she wore. Her face paint disguised a pretty face beneath rather well. Her costume was typical female clownwear: poofy pants, hooked shoes, poofy shoulders, and big buttons.
“Hey, Conor,” she said with a smile. Conorsla waved in greeting, slapping a smile on his face. Linda’s smile faded a bit. “I heard that Griever’s mad at you again.”
Conorsla looked at the floor and nodded nonchalantly.
Linda sighed and put one hand on Conorsla’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured him, “Things will get better.”
Conorsla started to bob up and down repeatedly. To some people, this would have been identified as the “I Gotta Go Potty” dance, but Linda knew better. She knew that Conorsla wanted to tell her something.
“Hm?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “What do you want to tell me?”
Conorsla scratched his chin, wondering how he wanted to put this. He looked around for something to draw on, and found his trusty paper pad and a pen. Conorsla drew a quick picture of Leo, Shiva and Kylie.
Linda looked at his work. She put her finger in her mouth, the way she always would when she was thinking. “Those three… Who are they?”
Conorsla pointed at her, then at himself, then took his two fingers and intertwined them. “What?” she asked. Did this involve the two of them? After a second, it came to her. “Oh! They’re friends?”
Conorsla nodded. Then, he drew both he and Linda alongside these three people. He proceeded to draw the circus tent and an angry Griever behind all five of them.
Linda stared and thought of what her friend was trying to say. Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious!” she almost shouted. “You want us to run away with those people? They want to come and take us away?”
Conorsla nodded. He turned the page and drew Shiva and Kylie in a cage within a tent. Then, he drew a (rather crude) Leo outside the tent with a frown on his face.
Linda gasped. “Griever kidnapped his friends?”
Conorsla nodded.
Linda stared at Conorsla for a little bit. “You want us to help him free his friends, right?”
Conorsla nodded again, this time more vigorously.
Linda almost danced with joy when she said, “And then, we’ll all run away, right?”
Conorsla was beaming. He nodded again, glad that Linda was as excited as he was that they were going to leave this crummy place behind.
Suddenly, a loud, long, angry scream scratched across the air.
“C-O-N-O-R-S-L-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!”
The two circus children froze and gasped with fright. They looked at each other, horrified. “Griever!” Linda gasped. Conorsla motioned for her to hide under his bed. Linda nodded and did as told. Conorsla threw his paper pad to one side of the room, hopefully where Griever wouldn’t think to look.
* * * * * *
Leo looked toward where the banshee-like scream came from. Just as he thought, Griever was furiously stomping over to Conorsla’s cabin with Kane just behind him. “Oh no,” Leo whispered. If the image of Griever that he got was any indication, he knew Conorsla was in for a severe beating.
As he watched, the guards stepped back from Griever and bowed in respect of their employer. Griever smacked one of the guards with his cane and started yelling at him. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Griever spat, pointing his cane at the guard. “You’re a guard! Stay guarding!”
“Y-Yes, sir!” the guard said.
Leo recoiled back into his bush. He knew that this was probably his best bet to get inside the circus tents, but he didn’t know which one held the animals’ cages, most likely where Shiva and Kylie were being kept. Leo needed Conorsla for this, but there wasn’t any time.
Leo began sneaking over to the nearest tent, occasionally hiding behind trees and wagons to avoid being caught by any of those frightening clowns. After a good five minutes of sneaking, he finally reached his designated tent. Inside were probably the girls. Well, even if he weren’t comfortable with it, he’d have to take his chances.
“In I go,” he whispered, and crept into the tent like a thief.
* * * * * *
Conorsla felt the ground slam into his face as he fell over from the blow of Griever’s cane. He opened his eye to see Linda under his bed, horrified by the bruise on his face.
“Get up, you worthless crap!” Griever yelled. He sunk the sharp tip of his boot into Conorsla’s ribcage. As the air escaped his lungs, Conorsla could see the look on Linda’s face turn from horrified to afraid.
Impatient, Griever grabbed ahold of Conorsla’s hair and pulled the boy to his feet. Then, he pushed him into the wall behind him, knocking one of his bug-holding frames off the wall. “Stand him up!” he ordered Kane.
Kane crawled over to Conorsla, much like a spider’s movements. He helped Conorsla up to his feet. Griever turned to the clown behind him. “Did you bring the whip?”
The clown nodded with an evil, twisted grin. He held out the whip for his master to take. It was made of three long, thin chords of chrome steel, intertwining and forming into a brutal spike at its tip. Glass pieces adorned the lashing end, threatening to rip off flesh with every bite.
Griever grabbed the whip the way a greedy child grabs candy. “Turn him around!” he ordered Kane.
Conorsla braced himself, ready for the horrible pain of Griever’s whip. He had already gained quite a few scars on his back for his disobedience and incompetence. It seemed that right now, their company would expand a few more.
The first lash was enough to draw blood, which splattered across the floor. From under the bed, Linda tried her hardest not to gasp or make any noises. The second lash ripped more flesh from his back, the third putting Conorsla on his knees.
“Stand him up!” Griever ordered.
Kane held Conorsla as he gained two more lashes. The clown snickered as he watched the gruesome display. He clapped his hands together, laughing as Kane threw Conorsla to the ground.
Griever handed the whip back to the clown behind him. He turned and pointed at Conorsla, his rust-colored beady eyes filled with rage. “Don’t EVER disappoint me again!”
Griever stared furiously at Conorsla, who was lying in a bleeding heap in the corner. Suddenly, the clown noticed that Conorsla was lying next to a paper pad. He picked it up and started browsing through it. “Oh-HO!” the clown clamored.
Griever grunted. “Hm? What is it, Do?”
Do, the clown, held the paper pad out for Griever to see. “Check this out!”
Griever grabbed the paper pad out of Do’s hands and looked through it. He saw pictures depicting the plot for Conorsla’s escape. Griever also took note of Linda’s appearance in the “blueprints.”
The dumpy bad man slowly turned and gazed at Conorsla, far angrier than before. His thin lips twisted their way open, revealing a mouthful of ugly teeth, gritting out of growing anger.
“You’re in for it now, Conorsla!” laughed Do as he danced about and clapped his hands. Griever, sick of Do’s constant cheering, threw the paper pad at him, smacking him in the back of his head. “SHUT UP!” he yelled.
Kane cowered in a corner, sensing Griever’s anger. He let out a small whimper. Linda, from under the bed, knew that something more horrible than what she saw now was about to take place.
Griever drew a knife from his pocket. “You want to escape me? You hate your life here?”
Do’s smile disappeared. Was he really going to kill him?
Conorsla slowly stood up, unafraid of whatever Griever was about to do. He looked at Griever with a scowl, and nodded.
Griever’s face was in an even more twisted state than it was previously. “You’re going to treat me like this? After all I’ve done for you? Given you a home, and food?”
Conorsla could not only feel blood dripping down his back, but also his strength returning. His muscles tensed. You think you’re so tough, Conorsla thought. If only he still had his voice…
Griever screamed and ran at Conorsla, foaming at the mouth and his blade ready to sink into Conorsla’s face. Conorsla nimbly dodged the blade and planted his elbow into Griever’s face. The pudgy little man was flung across the room, smashing into a wall and dropping his knife. It looked like all those acrobatic shows really worked after all.
Do ran over to Conorsla, ready to land a blow into his midsection, only to be punched from the side by Linda, who had shot out from under Conorsla’s bed. He was lifted into the air and spun around, finally landing on the ground. “Weaker sex, my ass,” he groaned as he lost consciousness.
Kane growled, roared, and flung his arms in Conorsla’s direction. He dodged the first, but fell prey to the second, being swept off his feet and onto the ground. Kane jumped in the air and readied his fists for an aerial smash into Conorsla’s face.
Conorsla caught Kane between his legs and flung him off. Linda twisted herself around, caught Kane between her legs and kicked into the air, where his face was introduced to the ceiling. As he fell, both Conorsla and Linda served two punches in a single blow to his midsection, knocking him out.
Conorsla looked around, trying to find Griever again. He spotted the wicked little dwarf slipping out of the cabin. “We’d better get out of here,” Linda told him.
It looked like they were on their own now, and that they’d have to fight the entire circus before they’d be able to break free. But freedom, Conorsla decided, was definitely a right worth fighting for.
“Home” is usually a word one would associate with things like comfort, warmth, and belonging. However, Leo couldn’t seem to spot any of those things at this circus, which was “home” to Conorsla. They were twisted-looking, even from the outside. Ghoulish clowns pranced about the grounds, and deformed freaks shuffled from here to there, getting things ready for tonight’s show. The red-haired circus performer looked cautiously at the circus tents, scratching his neck.
Leo sat from behind a bush, thinking of a way they could sneak inside. Conorsla lived here, yes, but would they suspect him of his tardiness? Before Leo could think anything through, however, Conorsla was already walking towards the tents.
He tried to stop Conorsla with a verbal warning, but apparently, Conorsla was too far away for a whisper to travel. Leo groaned as he watched Conorsla walk over to the guards at the front of the performer’s cabin.
Leo craned his neck to get a good view without being spotted. The two guards didn’t seem to react to Conorsla’s presence much, just as Conorsla had apparently figured. “Griever’s mad at you again, Conorsla,” Leo overheard one of the guards.
Conorsla nodded, acknowledging what he already knew. He went into one of the cabins that was apparently his, and closed and locked the door behind him. Leo spat and sat grumpily behind his bush. Either Conorsla was getting something he’d think would be useful for sneaking Leo in, or he had abandoned Leo altogether.
Leo supposed he’d wait a few minutes for Conorsla. If he didn’t come back, he’d have to find some way in himself.
* * * * * *
Conorsla disliked the idea of calling this circus home, but his cabin certainly had a warm feel to it. He looked around sadly, recalling each fond memory he had of this room. He knew that after today, this would be the last time he’d get to see it.
In one corner was his bed, modest and clean. Lining the walls were picture frames that held the many bugs that Conorsla had collected since he was twelve. Against the front wall was a vanity set so he could put on the circus make-up for his performances. Its mirror was cracked, and it was quite dusty. A few pictures sat upon this vanity chest: one of his first attempt at trying to balance himself on a ball, another of one of his best performances (tight-rope walking), and one more of himself and Linda.
Conorsla walked over to the vanity and looked at the last picture. He picked it up and stared at it with depressed eyes. Leaving this circus behind would also mean he wouldn’t get to see Linda again. He sighed as he thought of what life would be like without her.
Linda was a spirited girl, and an excellent performer. She was an acrobatic clown who taught Conorsla many of his techniques, and encouraged him to develop his own tricks. Linda wasn’t a very tall woman, but was slender and pretty. She was a very kind person, and disapproved of Griever’s mistreatment of Conorsla (Not that she could question him, of course).
Even though he could tell Leo thought he had grown up without friends, that really wasn’t true. Linda was like two or three friends rolled into one person.
As a matter of fact, now that he thought of it, Linda was probably one step shy of becoming Conorsla’s girlfriend. He put the picture down, sighing. He knew he’d never be able to tell her in words of his feelings for her. He had lost his voice long ago when Griever had punished him for the first time. Ironically, it was also the first time he and Linda ever met.
It was almost ten years now since that day. He had been training for many weeks to ride a ball for the acrobatic act. He failed the show right in front of a paying audience, who proceeded to boo him off the stage. After the show, Griever was furious. He yelled at Conorsla for about an hour, then decided that he would have to punish him for his failure.
Four of his goons had to hold Conorsla down. Griever drew a small vial of something that didn’t look at all healthy, Conorsla could tell. He forced Conorsla’s mouth open, and poured some of the horrible substance down his throat.
What Conorsla felt next was a horrifying burning sensation all down his throat and into his stomach. Was this poison? Was he going to die? After about twenty minutes, the burning stopped. Griever locked him in his room, and denied him dinner.
Conorsla still felt a horrible burning in his throat and stomach, but it was less painful than before. After about an hour, he heard a knock at the door. Before he could answer, someone came in.
It was a female clown who looked to be about his age. She was holding a platter of food. Conorsla looked at this girl, not knowing what to say. “I was worried,” she said, “so I brought some food for you.” She set the plate on his bed, since he did not have a table.
Conorsla tried to say “thank you,” but the words couldn’t come out. In its place instead were throaty mumbles, and his throat began to burn again. Then he realized it: Griever punished him by taking away his voice.
“What’s the matter?” the girl asked. “Are you not feeling well?”
Conorsla swallowed, the pain in his throat increasing. He looked at her, horrified by his realization. He couldn’t even tell her how he was feeling.
The girl looked at him for a few seconds, then said, “Can’t you speak?”
A sad frown formed on Conorsla’s face. He couldn’t hold back his tears, and started to cry. He wasn’t able to speak, perhaps forever. He wouldn’t even be able to say his own name. The girl put her arms around him and tried to calm him down. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s all right… I’m here. Linda’s here.”
Ever since then, he and Linda became close friends. Conorsla stared at the picture a little more, not knowing how Linda might feel if he left. Suddenly, it hit him: why couldn’t he ask Linda to come with him? She was as sick of this place as he was. He was sure she’d say yes!
He put down the picture and turned, only to hear a knock at his door. Since he couldn’t reply verbally, he walked over to the door and knocked on the wall next to it. It was his way of saying, “Come in.”
The door opened, and in walked Linda. She was barely up to Conorsla’s shoulders, her short brown hair hidden under the long yellow cap she wore. Her face paint disguised a pretty face beneath rather well. Her costume was typical female clownwear: poofy pants, hooked shoes, poofy shoulders, and big buttons.
“Hey, Conor,” she said with a smile. Conorsla waved in greeting, slapping a smile on his face. Linda’s smile faded a bit. “I heard that Griever’s mad at you again.”
Conorsla looked at the floor and nodded nonchalantly.
Linda sighed and put one hand on Conorsla’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured him, “Things will get better.”
Conorsla started to bob up and down repeatedly. To some people, this would have been identified as the “I Gotta Go Potty” dance, but Linda knew better. She knew that Conorsla wanted to tell her something.
“Hm?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “What do you want to tell me?”
Conorsla scratched his chin, wondering how he wanted to put this. He looked around for something to draw on, and found his trusty paper pad and a pen. Conorsla drew a quick picture of Leo, Shiva and Kylie.
Linda looked at his work. She put her finger in her mouth, the way she always would when she was thinking. “Those three… Who are they?”
Conorsla pointed at her, then at himself, then took his two fingers and intertwined them. “What?” she asked. Did this involve the two of them? After a second, it came to her. “Oh! They’re friends?”
Conorsla nodded. Then, he drew both he and Linda alongside these three people. He proceeded to draw the circus tent and an angry Griever behind all five of them.
Linda stared and thought of what her friend was trying to say. Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious!” she almost shouted. “You want us to run away with those people? They want to come and take us away?”
Conorsla nodded. He turned the page and drew Shiva and Kylie in a cage within a tent. Then, he drew a (rather crude) Leo outside the tent with a frown on his face.
Linda gasped. “Griever kidnapped his friends?”
Conorsla nodded.
Linda stared at Conorsla for a little bit. “You want us to help him free his friends, right?”
Conorsla nodded again, this time more vigorously.
Linda almost danced with joy when she said, “And then, we’ll all run away, right?”
Conorsla was beaming. He nodded again, glad that Linda was as excited as he was that they were going to leave this crummy place behind.
Suddenly, a loud, long, angry scream scratched across the air.
“C-O-N-O-R-S-L-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!”
The two circus children froze and gasped with fright. They looked at each other, horrified. “Griever!” Linda gasped. Conorsla motioned for her to hide under his bed. Linda nodded and did as told. Conorsla threw his paper pad to one side of the room, hopefully where Griever wouldn’t think to look.
* * * * * *
Leo looked toward where the banshee-like scream came from. Just as he thought, Griever was furiously stomping over to Conorsla’s cabin with Kane just behind him. “Oh no,” Leo whispered. If the image of Griever that he got was any indication, he knew Conorsla was in for a severe beating.
As he watched, the guards stepped back from Griever and bowed in respect of their employer. Griever smacked one of the guards with his cane and started yelling at him. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Griever spat, pointing his cane at the guard. “You’re a guard! Stay guarding!”
“Y-Yes, sir!” the guard said.
Leo recoiled back into his bush. He knew that this was probably his best bet to get inside the circus tents, but he didn’t know which one held the animals’ cages, most likely where Shiva and Kylie were being kept. Leo needed Conorsla for this, but there wasn’t any time.
Leo began sneaking over to the nearest tent, occasionally hiding behind trees and wagons to avoid being caught by any of those frightening clowns. After a good five minutes of sneaking, he finally reached his designated tent. Inside were probably the girls. Well, even if he weren’t comfortable with it, he’d have to take his chances.
“In I go,” he whispered, and crept into the tent like a thief.
* * * * * *
Conorsla felt the ground slam into his face as he fell over from the blow of Griever’s cane. He opened his eye to see Linda under his bed, horrified by the bruise on his face.
“Get up, you worthless crap!” Griever yelled. He sunk the sharp tip of his boot into Conorsla’s ribcage. As the air escaped his lungs, Conorsla could see the look on Linda’s face turn from horrified to afraid.
Impatient, Griever grabbed ahold of Conorsla’s hair and pulled the boy to his feet. Then, he pushed him into the wall behind him, knocking one of his bug-holding frames off the wall. “Stand him up!” he ordered Kane.
Kane crawled over to Conorsla, much like a spider’s movements. He helped Conorsla up to his feet. Griever turned to the clown behind him. “Did you bring the whip?”
The clown nodded with an evil, twisted grin. He held out the whip for his master to take. It was made of three long, thin chords of chrome steel, intertwining and forming into a brutal spike at its tip. Glass pieces adorned the lashing end, threatening to rip off flesh with every bite.
Griever grabbed the whip the way a greedy child grabs candy. “Turn him around!” he ordered Kane.
Conorsla braced himself, ready for the horrible pain of Griever’s whip. He had already gained quite a few scars on his back for his disobedience and incompetence. It seemed that right now, their company would expand a few more.
The first lash was enough to draw blood, which splattered across the floor. From under the bed, Linda tried her hardest not to gasp or make any noises. The second lash ripped more flesh from his back, the third putting Conorsla on his knees.
“Stand him up!” Griever ordered.
Kane held Conorsla as he gained two more lashes. The clown snickered as he watched the gruesome display. He clapped his hands together, laughing as Kane threw Conorsla to the ground.
Griever handed the whip back to the clown behind him. He turned and pointed at Conorsla, his rust-colored beady eyes filled with rage. “Don’t EVER disappoint me again!”
Griever stared furiously at Conorsla, who was lying in a bleeding heap in the corner. Suddenly, the clown noticed that Conorsla was lying next to a paper pad. He picked it up and started browsing through it. “Oh-HO!” the clown clamored.
Griever grunted. “Hm? What is it, Do?”
Do, the clown, held the paper pad out for Griever to see. “Check this out!”
Griever grabbed the paper pad out of Do’s hands and looked through it. He saw pictures depicting the plot for Conorsla’s escape. Griever also took note of Linda’s appearance in the “blueprints.”
The dumpy bad man slowly turned and gazed at Conorsla, far angrier than before. His thin lips twisted their way open, revealing a mouthful of ugly teeth, gritting out of growing anger.
“You’re in for it now, Conorsla!” laughed Do as he danced about and clapped his hands. Griever, sick of Do’s constant cheering, threw the paper pad at him, smacking him in the back of his head. “SHUT UP!” he yelled.
Kane cowered in a corner, sensing Griever’s anger. He let out a small whimper. Linda, from under the bed, knew that something more horrible than what she saw now was about to take place.
Griever drew a knife from his pocket. “You want to escape me? You hate your life here?”
Do’s smile disappeared. Was he really going to kill him?
Conorsla slowly stood up, unafraid of whatever Griever was about to do. He looked at Griever with a scowl, and nodded.
Griever’s face was in an even more twisted state than it was previously. “You’re going to treat me like this? After all I’ve done for you? Given you a home, and food?”
Conorsla could not only feel blood dripping down his back, but also his strength returning. His muscles tensed. You think you’re so tough, Conorsla thought. If only he still had his voice…
Griever screamed and ran at Conorsla, foaming at the mouth and his blade ready to sink into Conorsla’s face. Conorsla nimbly dodged the blade and planted his elbow into Griever’s face. The pudgy little man was flung across the room, smashing into a wall and dropping his knife. It looked like all those acrobatic shows really worked after all.
Do ran over to Conorsla, ready to land a blow into his midsection, only to be punched from the side by Linda, who had shot out from under Conorsla’s bed. He was lifted into the air and spun around, finally landing on the ground. “Weaker sex, my ass,” he groaned as he lost consciousness.
Kane growled, roared, and flung his arms in Conorsla’s direction. He dodged the first, but fell prey to the second, being swept off his feet and onto the ground. Kane jumped in the air and readied his fists for an aerial smash into Conorsla’s face.
Conorsla caught Kane between his legs and flung him off. Linda twisted herself around, caught Kane between her legs and kicked into the air, where his face was introduced to the ceiling. As he fell, both Conorsla and Linda served two punches in a single blow to his midsection, knocking him out.
Conorsla looked around, trying to find Griever again. He spotted the wicked little dwarf slipping out of the cabin. “We’d better get out of here,” Linda told him.
It looked like they were on their own now, and that they’d have to fight the entire circus before they’d be able to break free. But freedom, Conorsla decided, was definitely a right worth fighting for.
