Chapter 27 Winona Bishop
Chapter twenty-seven
Winona Bishop
Running Up That Hill — Kate Bush
I dash through the tall wrought-iron gate.
My eyes widen at the sight of large red tents and enchanting fairy lights. The sweet aroma of cotton candy and salty popcorn mingles with the crisp air.
Thick fog cloaks the circus beautifully, adding a layer of mystery and thrill to the already dark atmosphere. I zoom in on an enchanting carousel with dark cresting, gilded poles, and a circle of red neon lights above wooden horses, each painted in vibrant hues of cerulean and crimson.
The night brings this place to life and makes it exactly what it’s meant to be—eerie.
My bodyguard calls my name as I pass a ticket booth and a few vendors. The crowds still wait in the open area between the tents, cheering loudly and chatting.
The roar of engines vibrates against my shoes, spiking my heart rate. I look to my right, and the sign says:
Tonight, the Globe of Death is open!
A print featuring motorcycles in the background.
Cool.
Grandma walked through the gate a few minutes ago and told me to wait outside, but I wanted to see the circus. I’ve heard so much about it and never had the chance to be here.
The grass is slightly damp from the rain earlier, and it’s getting my new sandals wet. I grin as I peek behind a curtain, captivated by the aerial gymnastics act and the lady’s effortless movements.
She wraps the silk around her legs, spinning easily in the air.
I’ve always wanted to give that a try. It looks so liberating.
I would probably fall flat on my face, but I can always hang on to it like a little monkey with my legs.
I giggle as I round another tent and lose my bodyguard in the process. He’s too busy flirting with the woman at the entrance, who’s dressed like a fairy from a fantasy book.
Well, fairies are known to be tricky.
Skipping on my feet to the photo booth, I slide into the seat inside. The sign reads $5, so I slip a bill into the money slot, and it starts to snap pictures of me.
I stick my tongue out, make a funny face, smile widely, and make a heart shape with my hands. I rush out to grab my mini photoshoot and tuck it into my pocket.
The joyful laughter of children echoes, catching my attention as I turn toward the carousel in the corner. The wistful smiles of parents watching, recalling their own childhood adventures, tug at something deep inside me.
I only have Grandma.
I’ve often wondered what it would be like to spend time with my parents in a place like this. I see them once a year, if I’m lucky.
I’m twelve, and it has always been this way.
My eyes flick to three tall men as they walk past me, wearing creepy clown masks. I hold my breath when the one holding a snake stops in front of me. He tilts his head to the side and brings the snake’s face close to mine.
A shiver runs through me as I stare into its horrifying eyes.
“Want to touch it?” he asks in a menacing voice, chuckling. “Come on, don’t be scared, little girl.”
I shake my head to decline the offer, my legs rooted to the ground, unable to move as the snake’s hiss leaves me paralyzed.
The clown chuckles once more—the sound is darker and far more sinister.
“Don’t let a snake catch you like this.” He lets it slither along my neck. Its dry, yet smooth and rough, texture leaves me gasping for air. I breathe through my parted lips and don’t dare to move.
“Please, get it off me,” I say in a small, shaky voice.
As the snake moves, I instinctively tilt my head back, and my eyes lock onto the holes in his mask and the bleak stare of the man’s eyes.
“You know,” he whispers, “They can wrap around your neck and squeeze it to death, unless they decide to sting you with their venom or swallow you whole. The latter is rare, though.”
The snake hisses again as it slithers off my skin onto the clown’s hand before he walks away.
I take a shaky breath and shut my eyes for a moment. Don’t faint. It’s okay. I open my eyes and spot familiar red locks in the distance.
“Grandma, who are you looking for?”
I run to her, glancing over my shoulder every second to ensure the clown is gone.
“Damn it, Winona, what did I say?” She spins around to face me, furious as usual, shooting me a look that makes my stomach turn. For a fleeting moment, her expression softens before turning hard again. “I’m looking for a guy. I was hoping to find him.”
“What does he look like?” I hesitate.
“I don’t know,” she admits in a harsh tone. “I know his name is James. That’s all.”
“I can help you look.”
“Absolutely not. Where is your bodyguard?” she huffs, giving him a once-over as he catches up to us. “Useless,” she mutters.
“Can I at least get some cotton candy?” I bat my eyelashes at her and press my palms together. “Pretty please.”
“Fine.”
She remains expressionless and flicks her gaze at my useless bodyguard. Inching closer to him, she lowers her voice to a whisper, thinking I can’t hear it over the noise around us.
“All eyes on her. If you lose her again, I will pluck your eyeballs myself and ensure you never work in the field again. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He steps back, swallowing the thickness in his throat. I can almost hear his racing heartbeat.
I laugh at that.
“Go on, sweetie.” She gently pats my shoulder twice. “Get yourself what you want and wait for me in the car.”
I nod as she walks away.
As I approach the short line of people waiting for their hands-on experience with cotton candy, a whimsical voice booms through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to start. You may enter the tents,” he announces.
In seconds, the vast waiting area becomes nearly empty.
I grin at the worker who hands me a tall stick topped with a tasty pink cloud of cotton candy. I slip my hands into my jeans pocket to pull out the twenty-dollar bill I have—
It’s empty.
I check the other pocket and my rear pockets as well.
What?
I had money.
My eyebrows furrow.
The clown.
Did he steal my money?
I glance over my shoulder at my bodyguard. “Can you cover this? I’ll pay you back when we get home.”
He quickly takes over and pulls out his wallet. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” I say with a small grin, looking around once more. An unsettling feeling creeps through my bones. A few workers stay inside their vendors, but not for long, as they also start moving toward the tents.
Horror music plays from the speakers, and a creepy laugh blares.
I walk toward the tent of the woman I saw earlier. Tossing a piece of sweet fluff into my mouth, I feel it melt against my tongue. Just as I am about to peek between the curtains again, murmurs and a crunching sound drift toward me.
I round the tent, hiding behind a large sign with the circus logo—Carnage Trolls in cursive gold lettering—and a list of shows.
“James won’t be happy about this,” says one man to the other. “But he was a liability anyway. Now help me put him in a body bag.”
James... the guy Grandma was searching for.
My heart starts picking up pace as I watch the masked men shove a lifeless body into a bag. I stay silent, hoping they won’t hear it ticking so loudly.
They wear black masks that cover their entire face, with two holes for their eyes.
“I want more money,” one of them snarls. “He is starting to get on my last nerve with all of these killings.”
“At least there aren’t any cameras in the lot, and there’s a forest behind, so we have some privacy.”
“So fucking what,” he lashes out.
“Lower your voice,” the other warns sternly. “He pays us well, and the job is easy. Plus, he said we would get more opportunities soon.”
“I’m not going to prison over this, and if I do, I want insurance to keep my mouth shut, or I’ll rat you out.”
“I wouldn’t recommend saying that to the boss. He has connections in high places.”
“Fuck the boss. We put our freedom on the line.”
“What are you doing here?” says a sinister voice behind me, and the two men snap their heads in my direction.
It’s him.
I gulp audibly.
“Nothing, I’m leaving,” I mumble, spinning around to face him. My eyes scan his body for a chance encounter with a snake, but it’s not there. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Hold on, little girl.” He blocks my path, snatches my cotton candy from my hand, and throws it to the ground. “You didn’t answer my question.” He gives me a chuck under the chin.
“Please, I won’t say anything.”
“You hear that?” he says to the men, and they chuckle behind me. “Since you ask so nicely, I mean, we have to, right?”
“Winona,” my bodyguard calls out. “Let’s go.”
“I’m here!” I shout before the clown puts his hand over my mouth, muffling my screams.
“Not a world, little girl, or I cut you.”
He pushes me toward the other two masked men, and they surround me, pinning me tightly. I flinch at the pain from their grip and try to break free, but they overpower me, holding me still and digging their fingers into my skin.
Before I can scream again, they hush me with their bloody hands.
The man in the clown mask yanks my bodyguard and starts pummeling him with brass knuckles.
Blood sprays everywhere as a mixture of the crunching sound of bones breaking and muffled groans rings in my ear.
I watch in horror as he keeps beating him to a pulp, over and over, kicking him, tearing him apart with his bare hands.
No.
Tears fill my eyes as he becomes unrecognizable.
“This is what happens when little girls wander where they shouldn’t,” he grits out between harsh breaths. “Maybe I’ll leave you paralyzed so you never snoop around people’s business ever again.”
My pulse is roaring in my ears.
A movement in the distance catches my eye, and I zoom in on a boy running toward the exit. I want to call out to him and ask for help, but I can’t make a sound.
They grab my chin roughly, forcing me to watch as the clown pours gasoline over my bodyguard and pulls a matchbox from his pocket.