Chapter Text
High above, fireworks burst in an array of colored lights and their luminous ashes rain down attempting to reach the ground before they burn out. The music is infectious with its joyful tune as Basha and her mother walk through the circus fair grounds to the big top in the middle. Basha can almost taste the cotton candy in the air and while she knows she wouldn’t be able to eat it after the fried Oreo her papa had got her in secret earlier, she still tries to convince her mama anyway.
“Mama?” Basha tugs on her mother’s skirt, Amma, Basha’s mother sighs exasperated before putting on a sweet smile and leaning down to get more level with her daughter.
“Yes honey?” Raising a finger, Basha points to a cotton candy stand, the blue and pink candy floss practically a beacon for Basha drawing her in with its alluring smell and sight.
“Can I? mama please, can I?” The young girl practically begs but Amma’s smile was whipped off her face the moment her eyes laid on the cavity monstrosity that was cotton candy. Amma straitens up her back and crosses her arms.
“You know how I feel about you having stuff with sugar in it Basha. Besides your father-“ Amma’s tone turns sour as she turns her head to the side as if trying to hide her disgusted face “-probably got you as much junk food as you wanted”
Basha quickly shook her head in protest “no mama! Dada didn’t buy me any sweets!”
Amma looks unconvinced “really? He didn’t buy you ANY sweets?”
Basha nods her head in a slightly exaggerated fashion “yes Mama, Dada didn’t by me any sweets at all. Even when I begged with a cherry on top!”
Her Amma looks slightly more convinced, but nevertheless, she raises her pinky in the air towards Basha. “You pinkie promise? And you know you can’t break a pinkie promise.”
Basha Locks pinkies with her mother with no hesitation, her voice unwavering as she says, “I pinkie promise” Amma smiles fully convinced as she starts to lead her daughter to the soft and sweet balls of fluff that her daughter wanted so much. Basha meanwhile smiled satisfied as she grabbed onto her cotton candy with the hand that wasn’t crossing her fingers behind her back.
They both continued their journey to the big top Basha enjoying her sugary treat while looking at the various tents and stands the circus had set up. Soon they both were in front of the big top, and Basha could now understand fully why they called it that.
The giant tent stood proudly with an array of colors so bright it seemed to hurt your eyes, and it was so large that Basha had to stand at least ten steps back just to see the top. The tent was seemingly held down to the ground only by multiple heavy looking ropes, if one of them broke Basha feared the whole big top would fly away.
Making their way closer to the entrance, they found that a man with a mask that was painted similarly to a fox, was taking the tickets that the adults had bought at the ticket booth. When Basha and her mother reached the man, her mother roughly put the tickets in his hand with a huff and a whisper that the circus was stealing the money from the real workers of society.
They both walked into the tent it was as if a switch was turned, it seemed as if the bright neon lights from outside were suddenly shut off the moment they entered. The colors on the outside of the tent that seemed so bright now seemed washed-out and gray. The only light that Basha could see was from the giant spotlight that shined down from the top of the tent onto the big circle of finely ground dirt and sand. The circle was farther emphasized with the small wall that was the same dim colors as the inside of the tent, the wall was so small that it would only reach her mother’s knee.
Basha however was more focused on the very back of the tent which had a beautiful collection of velvety red curtains that seemed to make up a door. From the slight crack between the two curtains was what she assumed was a pitch-black room, but she could have sworn she saw a watching pair of blue eyes that were so vibrant you could probably see glimpses of the ocean.
She suddenly was snapped out her thoughts when her mother grabbed her arm, pulling Basha out of the way as a couple of rowdy teenagers rush passed.
Her mother leaned down with furrowed brows and harshly whispered to her in a annoyed tone “Basha! Watch where you’re going!” Amma kept her grip on Basha’s arm as she led her daughter up the stairs of the stands to a spot at the top that was still relatively empty of people still.
As they sat down a ringing song came from Amma’s purse and Basha immediately knew what it was. Her mother had set a special type of ringtone for when her work called so she would recognize it. At first it was just another ringtone to Basha but as time went on Basha grew to resent that ringtone and all it stood for. The ringtones happy and cheery tune was more like death bells for the fun night that her and her mother would have had. Amma immediately reached for her phone as if it was second instinct for her, but Basha whined out.
“Mama! I thought you said that they wouldn’t call you!” Amma looked away from her child, her face showing how truly agitated she was at Basha before she sighed and turned to face Basha with a sweet smile.
“Amma has to take this call Sweetie, but after this I won’t answer them anymore.” Basha seemed to think for a moment about her mother’s proposal before she offered her pinkie finger to her mother.
“Pinkie promise?” Amma face twitched slightly as she looked at the pinkie with faintly veiled annoyance, before she interlocked her own pinkie finger with Basha’s sealing the deal with “I promise”.
Then the sound of trumpets filled the tent with their majestic and brassy sound as from behind the velvet curtain a tall man stepped out dressed in a beautifully, gold thread stitched suit that was the same velvet color as the curtains he came out of. His top hat which matched the striking color of his suit was taken off his head swiftly as he bowed towards the crowd, spinning slowly in his bow to make sure that he got everyone. He then straightened up and in a booming voice addressed the crowd.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” he spreads his arms out as if commanding an orchestra and it almost as if he was with the way that the crowd that followed his every move and was already hanging on every word that boomed past his lips.
The acts that came afterward were almost a blur to Basha, the way that the people preformed were so unordinary that she had trouble with believing that it was real. The trapeze with their sparkling, bedazzled leotards or the animal tamers with their whips and hoops.
Their names which were probably fabricated stuck with Basha the most, for how they always complemented their wearer. For instance, the trapeze artist wearing a dazzling blue leotard that reminded Basha of the night sky, was called ‘Realta the Sensational.’ Or the fire breather whose hair looked exactly like the flames he exhaled was called ‘Haco the Powerful.’
It was when the show was nearing its end and the dazzling sights that Basha saw were fading slowly to just flashing colors and names in her memories the ring master announced the last act. The voice that the ring master used always had a kind of professionalism to it whenever he announced the other acts but when he shouted out.
“Now introducing The Clowns!” his voice held a certain kind of warmth to it. It immediately soaked up Basha’s attention for the fact that there was no describer for the clowns, no ‘the great’ not a ‘the incredible’ just the clowns. To her, it was intriguing that the clowns didn’t even have a name like the others, it was just simply the clowns.
Then suddenly two multicolored clowns came darting out from the very velvet curtains that the ring master came out of. Their introduction was fast and neat, an obvious sign that the clowns had practiced this number more than a million times. They started off their act with a cartwheel, planting their hands on the ground to push themselves up and doing a jaw-dropping flip backwards in perfect harmony, no mistakes to be seen.
The clowns instead of dressing in tight leotards or form fitting fancy suits wore baggy clothes, with exaggerated ruffles at the hands, feet, and neck of the outfit. The colors they wore on their clothes matched different swatches from the tent. The happy clown’s makeup for his face paint gave him bright red cheeks, and his attire matched the bright and neon colors of the outside of the tent. While his companion’s, who’s cheeks had comically painted tears, matched the dim- and washed-out colors of the inside of the tent.
Their curly hair, a striking white, fell down covering their eyes and concealing what very well could be the windows to their soul. The locks of hair almost blending into their matching shade of face paint concealing their natural skin tone. Their lips were painted in opposing vibrants of blue and red, smiles large and goofy. They were flamboyant in every aspect of their appearance, every feature unique in it’s own way. Basha was mesmerized, drinking in every detail she could.
With exaggerated gestures, they both bowed down similarly to the ring master when he first emerged from the curtains. At the sound of a comically trumpet, the clowns started their act.
Both clowns were so in sync and so trusting of each other that each flip and trick looked like child’s play to them. It was as if these two clowns were in their very own universe and that everyone else was simply just peaking in.
When Basha had managed to tear her eyes away from the act, which was an almost impossible task, she had caught a short glimpse of the ringmaster smiling at the clowns with a soft look in his eyes, but she was quickly distracted by the roaring of the crowd. It had also seemed that the audience was almost as enraptured as she was with the act, their eyes greedy drinking up any drop of entertainment that the clowns gave to them.
The clowns never spoke, sure they would mimic to each other, and they would make slight noises like gasps or sighs, but they would never speak not a peep. Though, that didn’t stop them from seemingly having a whole conversation on their own. Telling a elaborate story with their eyes and bodies.
Shifting constantly, their act never stopped changing places. It was as if it was a Waltz around the ring a seemingly never-ending dance and show. Their act was hypnotizing to those that watched, drawing in the attention of all those who looked.
Then, when they bowed it was like a shock of cold water to Basha. The clowns act had ended, and the show was over. It was short lived, and the quickest of them all, but despite that their performance was stuck in Basha’s mind, replaying over and over. It was seemingly effortless how they had moved, bodies flexible and skilled in their motions.
The ring master appeared once more, shooing them off with a playful wave of his hand, the clowns silently giggling as they flipped and cartwheeled back through the velvet curtain completely vanishing for the night. With that, the ring master then gave his final speech and bow biding the crowd goodnight before he too went behind the velvet curtain out of sight.
Despite the bustling around her, Basha was frozen, her brain slowly coming to the realization that the show was over. The act was over in less than a few minutes, yet it felt like a whole hour at the same time. The act had pulled her in so suddenly and then just as quickly let her go.
Before she had time to process, her mother grabbed her arm again and started down the steps of the stands and out of the big top as Basha’s mind was still trying to catch up. Then as if her mind just ricocheted back to her, Basha erupted into speech. Her mouth going a mile a minute as she blabbered on and on about the clown’s act. Basha gushed about the outfits, the face paint, the tricks, and their dynamic together. Though, it was only as they exited the fairgrounds when Basha looked up and noticed her mother still on the phone.