Young Writers Society

*This is the origin of a character from my story “Circus of horrors”. Gacha Club character designs are on my wall. Enjoy!*

In 1982, there lived an eighteen year old ballerina by the name of “Qetsiyah Martin”. She was delicate, dark-skinned, and dainty. She wore a lavender ballerina costume that seemed to have small silver sparkles twinkle in the tutu, like little faeries. She wore white tights with lavender bows stitched on. Her very ballet slippers matched with her costume. Qetsiyah’s face was covered with either a black veil or minimal makeup. Her head was adorned with a white, jeweled flower crown.

Qetsiyah performed for “The Circus of awe”. Her stage name was “The Lavender faerie”, but she was seen by the audience as “The beauty amongst the freaks”.

She didn’t appreciate the phrase, for it put down her fellow performers and only mentioned her appearance, but what was she to do? She was a performer, that was all.

Qetsiyah still had to perform, along with Elaine and Miles, the trapeze twins, and Malcolm the magician, even after the odd, peculiar deaths of Zippy and Cookie the clowns, and a little girl named Abigail.

She could see the uncertainty and worry in Teresa’s eyes, the very ringleader of the circus. She could see how Teresa put on a mask, just like Qetsiyah did.

All for the sake of keeping people happy.

…………………………………………………..

It was on a bright, sunny, fun-filled day, just like any other day at the circus, that Qetsiyah was forever changed.

She had finished twirling away for all to see and was at the moment, walking back to her car. There was a private parking lot for the performers, away from the audience.

To get to the parking lot, one had to walk on a dirt path through an overgrown forest. Qetsiyah was walking on said path, face covered with veil. Even though only wildlife was around, she felt safer with her veil on. She’d take it off when she went home, when she was alone, without people commenting on how it was a “pity to perform”. Performing was her passion, she wouldn’t have it any other way!

Besides, Qetsiyah could see perfectly fine with her veil on.

As she walked, she caught a black, void-like shadow moving amongst the leaves.

Qetsiyah dismissed it as nothing at first, for rustling leaves looked like shadows in the daylight.

But the shadow kept coming, moving more rapidly, as if it were an animal circling its prey.

A voice sang out to her, a demonic mockery of a woman’s:

“Tis’ I who killed the clowns

Tis’ I who tore the girl

Tis’ I who will break you

Accept your fate”

Qetsiyah tore off her veil, just to see the world in its true, natural colors.

All was colorful, all was bright, save for the shadow which morphed and deformed into a pale female creature with inky black eyes and a matching black dress. Her very hair was black too. So was her sad, decaying wings.

“I was once like you, my child. Human and full of such vibrancy. I was only Miriam, the neighbor across the street.”

“But now that I’m gone, why should you live?”

Qetsiyah tried to run, but she was paralyzed, trapped in a state of stillness.

Miriam smiled at her with a gaping, black mouth. She raised both hands in front of Qetsiyah.

Qetsiyah’s lips stitched and morphed together, sealing her screams. Pain, red-hot pain, scorched through her skin, bringing bloodied scars throughout her body. One of her eyes began to blur and then fade in vision entirely.

Qetsiyah felt herself losing control, something that never happened. She was the immortal, infinite ballerina, so full of grace and movement. She couldn’t just…die.

But she couldn’t help it. She was so weak…she fell to the ground, the world growing strange and dreamy around her.

Miriam disappeared into nothingness, as if she were only a mere nightmare.