The Contortionist: Circus Freak Series, #4

By Erin Lee

The Contortionist

Book Four

Circus Freak Series

When you work in a travelling carnival, it's easy for things to get twisted.

I'll admit it, I've got my secrets too. But it's nothing like the mutants I spend my days with. And they aren't the worst either. Sometimes, the biggest freaks of them all are the ones I sell tickets to.

They come out for Sunday afternoon shows hoping to catch a glimpse of magic that doesn't really exist. They don't care that, to put on the show, there are a lot of risks.

Sure, I made my choice. I came here by my own will. But ever since that day in high school shop class, I've learned there are things you have to take slow.

With Bearded Martha and Cat distracted with troubles of their own, I'm not so sure what the big deal is about a five finger discount – only that I have four.

My name is Leslie and I'm the carnival contortionist.

It's my job to bend round and round and try not to break my back.

What people don't know, is I'm twisting a whole lot more than that. And someday? All of this will be my show – if can only get away with it. It'll start with getting rid of the new girl named Neptune.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781983470691

Erin Lee

Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

Book preview

You can’t drive straight on a twisting lane.

―Proverb

COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Erin Lee

Cover – Erin Lee

Editing – Samantha Talarico/Rita Delude

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: THIS is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Dedication:

For all the quirky weirdos.

Even the twisted ones.

For the real-life Leslie – sorry about that lawn mower but the show must go on.

Don't believe what the spiritual sharks and clever carnival hustlers tell you about fearless living - they lie.

-  Guy Finley

Prologue

THEY SAY CARNIVALS are the rare places where anything is possible. Under the big top, and between the dunking booths, magic happens. They promise that, here, in this one twinkling where the young and old come to leer at the impossible, nothing is unachievable. But they’re wrong. They lie. They distort the facts and create illusions that they believe will never come back to bite them. At least, they contort the truth in the conventional sense.

I would know. I’ve spent half a lifetime as a sideshow carnie act, bending my body and twisting the truth alongside my limbs all for Madame’s illusion. A four-fingered freak who pulled off the unbelievable long before hitting the road, I thought I’d lived it all. In truth, I hadn’t even begun. Life, or how I knew it, didn’t start until I joined the freak show. Since then, well, let’s just say, it’s been one big twisted adventure. Scary, really.

The nightmare truly began when I lied to myself and began to believe the carnival was the ultimate dream. With a snake in one hand and gymnast training, I figured why not? After a tragic accident that ended my bid for the Olympics, the options were dreary. In the circus, I had a shot at becoming someone important again. I could finally make my showgirl mother proud. But I was wrong too. In the circus, not everything is possible. In fact, most things are not possible at all. They are merely trickeries.

Still, the show goes on. It has and it did. It always will... Looking back, it’s hard to imagine how far we’ve come.

First, there were the Siamese twins – killed by the carnival’s one-armed baton-twirling midget act and fed to the token veteran big cat, Leo. Then, it was Andre the clown, a guy who went missing for no reason at all other than the little person being in a mood. And it didn’t stop there. Even when Bearded Martha got caught moonlighting as a blood-lusty werewolf, the show still went on.

But not anymore.

Not now.

You see, I have other plans. I’m tired of living in dread with endless action plans and the feeling of never being good enough. I’m over the secrets that haunt lifer carnie staff. I’ve been over it awhile. And so, I’ve been saving up for years – bouncing from troupe to troupe like The Flying Moon’s aerial act and always finding my way back here, to Madame Scarlet’s Carnival Show.  

Madame, who has secrets of her own, has never quite liked me. Like anyone, she has her pets. I am not one of them. That role is reserved for Cat, the show’s serial killing kiss ass. Still, it hasn’t stopped me from trying or creating the illusion that I am. Fake it ‘til you make it. Create the appearance of grace, but never forget to keep one eye on your breathing tubes, my mother always said. And I do.

I am always the first to volunteer for extra hours in the dreaded ticket sale booth. I’m smart enough to know being a contortionist can only last so long. My joints ache and my heart hurts. And, hell, there will come a day for me when the show can’t go on. Okay, that’s not true. I’ll change things before that happens. What’s meant to be will be.

Before we get there, I’ll show them who the ringmaster really is. They owe me for this. I’ve been watching all along as they bury secrets and bodies in towns we’ll never visit again. Silence isn’t cheap and alibis deserve compensation. They’ll be surprised, of course, when my brilliant plan appears like rabbits from Garcia’s black hat. It’ll be the stuff circus shows are made of.

Even that will be a lie exposed. There’s no such thing as magic. All of it is common trickery and should be advertised as that. I do not, nor will I ever, get people’s need to believe, but have come to realize it’s something to capitalize on. I’m a realist. Simple as that. The result of being raised in show life. Really, if anyone were paying attention ‘til now, they would have seen the signs. Instead, they turned the other way – practicing ridiculous tricks like swallowing fire and landing triples on the trampoline. Not one of them giving me a second look more than to hit me with a warning or ask me for the millionth time about the cash box.

Sadly, in all of the show time hype, they forgot one very important thing: Freaks, if determined, can pull off anything. We carnies have something outsiders do not – the expected and perpetual mask of deception born on both circumstance and gut. Even as far back as the Elephant Man, it was the double-jointed, clumsy curiosities like me—or more like my ‘friend’ Cat—who kept the people coming back. It wasn’t the tricks or things people pulled out of caps. What the crowd really wants is not the illusion. They want to see the spectacle that is people like us. Somehow, no matter how many times I’ve told her, Madame has forgotten this. Frankly, the woman’s lost touch. Sold on glitter and lights, she’s forgotten the very principles that brought out paying customers even a century ago. Now, because of it, she’s slowly but surely driving the show into the road.