Just outside of the grand city of Paris, a small spectacle lay in the shadows. Its shabby tents and run-down music created a horrifically fantastic aura, drawing in even the most cynical passerby. A sign, painted in large red and white letters hung high above the worn-down menagerie; it read "le carnaval"
"Viens Voir! Come one! Come all! Behold sights beyond comprehension! We have the strangest and freakiest sights in all of Paris! Viens!" The well-groomed man dressed in a top hat and black suit jacket with lapels announced into a cloth funnel. The sun was low on the horizon, casting a dusky glow across the small carnival. Small fairy lights that hung from big-top to big-top twinkled to life as the natural light grew lesser. Suddenly, the air was filled with laughter as a little girl with dark curly hair ran underneath the several strings of lights. She ran up to a man holding a violin loosely in his left hand standing near a greenish tent.
"Christine, darling, don't run off to far now. Le carnaval should be closing soon and you wouldn't want to be left behind, now would you?" the man said to the dark haired girl. He kneeled down and smiled at his daughter. Christine smiled back.
"Okay papa!" she giggled and trotted away once again. She ran past several posters advertising the sights to be seen at the strange little show; Siamese sisters, ventriloquists, the bearded lady. Christine suddenly came to a halt in front of a particularly dark tent. A small wooden sign hung out front that simply read "anormal"; freak. Her dark brown eyes widened in fear as she toddled into the tent.
Inside, strings of fairy lights hung along the walls, providing a faint glow from which to see by. In the middle of the tent sat a giant cage. At first, Christine could not see anything inside.
"Allô! Hello!" she called. At first, there was no response; but after a moment, a dark figure began to move within the cage. Christina gasped and took a small step backwards. The figure straightened and took the form of a human; a child. The child stepped forward into the soft glow of the light, and Christina could not help but stare. The boy stared back at her. Christina tilted her head to one side, confused.
"Why are you not screaming or laughing?" the boy spoke in a barely audible whisper. The entire left side of his face was mangled; veins seemed to pulsate from his forehead and long spindly marks covered his skin. He looked to be about the same age as Christina, however it was nearly impossible to tell with how he looked. A sparse smattering of dark hair covered the top of his head and he was dressed in filthy rags stained with god knows what.
"Why would I scream monsieur?" Christina responded, with a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
"Are you blind?" the boy asked, louder this time.
"No, I can see perfectly. How did you get locked in a cage?"
"They think that I am a freak."
"A freak? But why?"
The boy stared at Christine in shock. How could she not see that he was a monster?
"What is your name?" Christine spoke softly now, stepping closer and closer until she could rest her hands against the cool metal bars.
"Erik" the boy fully looked up now and locked eyes with Christine. He froze and felt his heart skip a beat. Christine held his stare intently and slowly reached her fingers between the bars.
"Erik... I like that name" she said, barely above a whisper. Without breaking his eyes away from hers, Erik reached his slender fingers towards hers until they gently came together. Erik pulled away quickly and broke eye contact with Christine.
"Are you okay Erik?" Christine asked concerned. Erik was breathing hard now, looking at the ground.
"Yes, I... it has been a long time since someone touched me." Christine's look of concern turned to one of sadness.
"What about your papa? My papa always gives me a hug before I go to sleep." Christine asked. Erik's face fell.
"I don't have a papa." Christina's smile faded from her face.
"Oh... I'm sorry Erik"
"It is okay... um... what is your name?"
"Christine." Erik looked up at her once again, and for the first time, he truly studied her. Her dark curly hair and shining brown eyes, her pale skin and her delicate hands. She smiled at him sweetly.
"Christine," he repeated, softly.
"Christine..." he said her name over and over again until her name became a melody instead of a simple word. Christine giggled. Erik looked out at Christine again, suddenly longing to be standing next to her instead of behind bars.
From outside of the tent, Christine's father called out to his daughter. Christine cocked her head at the sound of her father before turning back to Erik.
"It is time for me to go," she said sadly. Erik's face fell again. Christine reached her fingers into the cage once again and lightly touched the side of his face.
"I do not think you are anormal, monsieur Erik. I don't know why people laugh at you," Christine said softly. Instead of recoiling at her touch, Erik leaned closer, longing to feel the warmth of her fingers across all of his skin.
"Christine!" Christine pulled back her hands when she heard her father call again.
"Goodbye, Erik," Christine waved at the poor boy in the cage and ran out of the tent into the moonless night. Erik tentatively lifted a hand to his cheek, which still tingled from the girl's touch. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Christine."