The Girl Who Joined the Circus

A high-pitched flute trilled from the orchestra pit, cueing a flurry of flashing blue lights across the ring. I stood up, throwing off my disguise and sliding my mask on in one fluid motion. Nervous as I was, I struck my pose before the amber-colored spotlight hit me. The audience’s reaction was positively euphoric.

“Ah, there she is!” Laurent’s boisterous laughter rang out to supplement the band. The flutes were the perfect accompaniment to my quick display of twists and bends. “Little bird, what on earth are you doing up there?”

I shrugged playfully, the flutes singing once more as I expertly turned and wove my way through the audience. The spotlight trailed after me as the audience gasped before shifting out of the way, collectively taken aback by a woman weaving her body above, around, and below them. I twisted around a couple who were holding hands, delicately sliding my head between their shoulders with a girlish grin.

“Oh, little bird, leave them be!” Laurent chided.

The audience laughed alongside the couple, who gasped in surprise when I slowly arched my back, slipping above their held hands and gripping the lower bench. Smoothly, I flipped and straightened upright, my arms outstretched as a roar of applause followed.

Laurent had said the key to the act was finding the right folks to interact with, playing off each other in a moment of improvisation. It was so much easier than I’d thought it would be. Finding cooperative people in the audience was easy, like catching a moth drawn to a bright light.

That’s when I saw her.

A sweet, little girl who was probably six years old or so. She was sitting beside her father, giggling and laughing with a yellow blanket on her lap. She was moving around so much that the blanket slid off her lap and fluttered to the floor.

“Oh, dear.” I stooped beneath the bench and popped up in front of her. “Did you drop this?”

The girl smiled, then clapped her hands excitedly. As I returned the yellow blanket to her, our hands briefly touched, and a rippling warmth coursed through my body. But no. It was more like it ran down my arm and through my fingers, physically transferring the sensation to the girl. And when I looked down and her hand, I saw it.

The outline of a black mark, a sigil, transferring from my fingers to her wrist. I felt my heart stop as a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling coursed its way within me. It was the same mark I’d seen Laurent and Rex giving to the audience members during their performances.

Now, my heart stopped as I realized I’d unknowingly marked this little girl.

And I had no idea what that meant.