Lullaby
Chapter One: Lovely Ladies
Snip. Snap. Snip. Snap.
Missa was struck by how similar high heels on wood sounded like scissors. If it weren't so dark, she thought she might've been afraid too. Either way, they made her legs look better than what God gave her, and that was enough.
She walked down the path, clacking and clicking like she had taps on soles of her platform shoes. Perhaps she would get those, if it meant she could sound like this forever.
The woman was at a carnival, a feast of far-away joy. It only made sense that her first few seconds of exposure would already have her thrilled. However, when she saw the outline of a devil's head against the dark, her steps faltered.
Her stomach was hardly very strong, and only last week her friend visited with horror stories of all kinds. What lay inside the tent was like a nightmare, but worse.
"So much worse."
Missa shook Lily's voice from her head and squared her shoulders. Her smile was bright as she relished in the noise of heels on old wood. She would have fun tonight, she promised herself.
Pausing a moment to look over the railing at the little river on either side, another thought struck her. How often she seemed to have those, and every single one rather strange. As she watched the murky bubbles rise to the surface, she wondered if she should take tap lessons to go with her shoes.
Tilting her head back, Missa giggled. She turned so her back was pressed against the railing. Her hands gripped the underside, unpainted nails digging into the soggy wood.
"You'll dirty your dress." Her head snapped to her left where a man and woman stood arm-in-arm. It was the woman who spoke, her mouth painted the same as her hat and dress. She looked rather smart, but her face was weathered, and no amount of makeup could hide it.
"I've got another at home, and another one, and another one after that..." Missa drawled, her tone lazy and flippant as she touched the black-and-white striped fabric of her skirt. She supposed the woman was right, there would be a stain across her back that wouldn't come out. Like the grass stains on her old blue frock that sat in the back of her cupboard, the brown streak would want to stick around.
While she was a bit more upset than she let on, Missa was glad to give her ancient yellow dress a friend. After all, she'd told the woman the truth. She did have another dress at home, more than another, actually.
"I like that one." The man, possibly the red woman's son, spoke up. Missa flashed him a friendly smile, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped away from the railing.
"Thank you, sir. I like it to." She replied, running a hand over her hair.
Her papa once said that black on red washed out her skin. Miss pretended she didn't hear and left her hair down for good measure. She liked her ginger hair, and she liked her open-backed black dress. She wore them both rather well, at least in her opinion.
"You should be more careful." Again the clipped, female voice broke up the night. Missa nearly rolled her eyes. Did this woman fancy herself mother to everyone? Missa certainly hoped not.
Instead of answering, she turned on her heel and walked towards the devil's head. She heard a second pair of platform shoes as well as a pair of loafers behind her. Somehow, it ruined the scissor noises.
"Have you two come to see the show?" She asked over her shoulder. She could almost feel the man's smile. However, it was the older woman who answered.
"Yes, my Dandy insisted." Missa paused, looking to the pair. The possessive pronouns took a backseat to the woman's possessive tone. It gave the young woman a chill quite unlike the one she got upon arrival at the path.
"I see. I've never been to anything like this." Missa admitted in a moment of submission. Conversation was building behind the elderly woman's mouth like water at a dam. The polite thing was not to talk to her, but to give the woman an opportunity to let it all out.
"Neither have we. Isn't that right, dearest?" Dandy nodded.
"You like strange things?" Missa asked him and he nodded. "Hm. Well, let's hope this makes you happy."
His mother chimed in with a hearty agreement as Missa continued to walk down the path. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man untangle himself from his mother's arm and quicken his pace. He fell into step beside her and inwardly, Missa flinched.
"Have you come here alone?" He asked and it was her turn to nod.
"Papa didn't have the strength to make the drive." She replied. "His health's been in decline lately."
"What if you get scared?" At this, Missa smiled.
"I don't scare easily." That was a damn lie, but she doubted she could bare to reject him if she told the truth and was invited to sit with them. She came here to be alone and two socialites weren't about to ruin that.
Missa was rather terrified at the thought of staring at something different. She didn't think herself anything other than normal, but perhaps with a sizable lack of mental filter. The show could go one of two ways, and she didn't particularly like either of them.
If she had fun, she'd be back. If she hated everything about the experience, she wouldn't be. Either way, she lost. Forcing a smile again onto her face, she walked through the entrance.
The interior was smaller than she'd expected, packed nearly to the brim with stage equipment. At the far end was the stage, bordered by red and gold curlicues. Hiding the wings from view was a green curtain so worn and faded that Missa could see the mending in places. In fact, nearly everything felt worn here. It seemed to disgust the woman, but Missa and the man seemed to find it endearing.
The wood under her feet changed to slightly damp grass, but she didn't mind. Missa was too busy drinking in the partially-lit scene to care any more. She absent-mindedly sank into a wooden folding chair near the entrance, subconsciously delighting in the aged creaking sound. Missa was a slim thing, but she rather liked when things buckled slightly under her weight.
Crossing one leg over the other, she leaned back in her seat. It was dark at the back, something Missa was normally afraid of, but the freak show was really anything but. She adapted to fit the circumstances and did not move from her spot.
To her left, she heard Dandy and his mother engage in brief, uncomfortable chatter that ended in seats being changed. It was then that Missa decided they were both a bit daft.
"Where are the freaks?" The man snapped, making Missa turn her head. Had anyone but her and his mother heard that? She looked up at the rafters, hoping not. She didn't find anyone, freak or otherwise, and relaxed again.
Ignoring the further conversation between mother and son for the sake of her sanity, Missa sat up straight when she heard a clamoring from backstage. Faint yelling and shuffling reached her ears, setting her nerves on edge. The show was about to begin.
Her mouth fell open when a woman darted out from behind the curtain. She held the hand of a man who looked just like her. Both had oddly-shaped, nearly bald heads and bulbous noses. Missa bit her lip and looked away, choosing not to hear anything Dandy had to say about them.
With a loud thud, the lights were switched off. The theaters flooded with darkness as a single spotlight focused on the center of the curtain. Music Missa hadn't heard since childhood played in the background as a woman with her back to the audience addressed the crowd in a thick Baltimore accent.
Missa's mouth fell open again as the world of the freak show was revealed to her. The hostess soon turned, showing the meager audience her full beard before gesturing to the next oddity.
One after the other, they got their moment in the spotlight. A man in a bowler hat with an arm deformity, the strange twins that Missa saw before, and finally a man whose fingers were fused together, split at the middle.
Missa stared at him from under her lashes. He was a handsome man who held himself like he couldn't stand to be cast in the light the way he was. The others temporarily forgotten, Missa watched him. However, nothing could have prepared her for what came next.
The light moved across the stage, stopping on a woman, no, two women. Or at least their heads, as they appeared to share one body. It made the older woman gasp, but Missa could barely make a sound. She noted the dreamy smile on the lips of the right head, while the one on the left seemed blinded by the lights.
It was with the announcement of Elsa Mars that Missa's excitement was piqued. She watched with bated breath as the curtain parted and the German woman walked onto the stage. Her face was garishly painted, the most noticeable being her bright blue eyelids. Missa realized they matched her pantsuit as she began to sing.
The song is a strange one, and Missa barely remembered it when she finished. She seemed shaken to the young woman, even from the back. Her brow furrowed, Missa brought her hands together as if to clap, but could not bring herself to. The lights behind Elsa shut off, leaving the woman in similar darkness as Dandy slipped away from the audience. She stood when the lights came back on. Something pulled her towards the woman in red.
"Did you see where he went?" She asked when Missa was in earshot. All the woman could do was shake her head.
"He'll be back," Missa croaked after a moment, still slightly in shock. "He did seem very excited."
"Oh, he certainly was." His mother agreed. "Could barely keep his eyes off the hideous, two-headed-" she cut herself off as Dandy emerged from backstage, Elsa, the man with the strange hands and the sisters with one body in tow.
"My monster's are not prostitutes!" The German woman exclaimed. Missa did not miss the affection tone to the otherwise malicious name for Elsa's performers. There was respect, if nothing else, behind the word. Respect that was missing when she heard anyone else mention the show. Dandy explained to his mother that he'd found the freak he wanted to buy. His mother nodded, stepping in front of him. Missa noticed the way the woman's hand hovered over her pocket book as she told Elsa that she did not want to buy a freak for a night, but permanently.
"What?" Missa's voice rang through the tent. She blamed the lighting pieces, and a furious blush came to her face as everyone's eyes snapped her her. Missa sat back down, ducking her head.
All she could see in her mind as the three haggled prices was the right head's smile. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing Missa had ever seen. She hated how narrow the field to distinguish them was, but they were both so identical. It made Missa think of how she always wanted a sister, but not just any sister, a twin. She'd met a pair of them in high school and marveled at how inseparable they were. It was something about sharing a face, she supposed. Still, to be literally inseparable was far less appealing.
Jarred from her thoughts at the sound of movement near her, Missa nearly jumped from her seat as she saw the two nearly-bald twins from the show moving to fold up the chairs. She nodded to the one in pink before moving closer to the current conversation.
Missa stepped out of the way as the mother and son left the tent. Had she been more interested in what they thought, she would have glared at their backs. Instead, she stood dumbstruck. Elsa stared at her as if she expected her to speak, but when Missa did, it was to the sisters.
"What's your names?" She blurted before she could stop herself. From this distance, she noticed their different colored headbands. The one in blue smiled like she had on stage.
"I'm Bette." She said. It was too fast for Missa to catch, but she thought she heard a bit of an Alabama accent.
"Dot." The one in orange replied. Her voice was clipped and mistrusting. It did not put Missa on edge, however.
"What's your name?" Bette asked in turn, making the woman fumble for an answer.
"My papa called me Melissa, 'till I cut it down to Missa." She gave the two a slight smile. "I answer to both." Dot nodded like she was attempting to be polite. Biting her lip again, Missa gave them another grin when they said they'd like to be excused. Elsa followed shortly after.
"And, um, your name?" Missa asked when it was just her and the man. She ignored the twins scuttling behind her.
"Jimmy." He said. "Jimmy Darling. The two over there are Salty and Pepper." Missa looked over her shoulder at them.
"Oh, thank you." She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to keep from staring at his. "I just felt bad calling them left and right head in my, well, head. It felt wrong." Why she was explaining herself, she did not know. Jimmy's flashed her a smirk that she didn't fully understand.
"Didn't stop your from staring at them like they had four heads instead of just two." Missa's cheeks were on fire again.
"I-I didn't realize that-" He cut her off with an amused exhale.
"Look, don't worry about it. I don't think Bette noticed. In fact I'm pretty sure you made her night." Somehow, that didn't make Missa feel any better.
"Having their names asked shouldn't make someone's night." She muttered under her breath.
"He didn't." Jimmy pointed out, glancing to the entrance. Missa rolled her eyes.
"I thought he was disgusting." She scoffed. "And his mother equally so. I doubt I'll ever see them again, but between you and me, I think they're a bit touched in the head." Laughing at that, Missa let her eyes fall to his hands.
She swallowed hard. All night she'd been trying not to focus too much on a single oddity. Missa detested it when attention was on her, she didn't want to make anyone else feel the same. She placed her hand palm-up in front of him.
"May I?" She asked, her voice small. Jimmy's smirk faded and he looked away from her as he lifted his left hand and placed it on top of hers. The weight was uncomfortable and it settled in her stomach. She lifted her other hand with the intention of touching the top, but stopped before she could. If calling Dot and Bette by their head placements was wrong, than so was this.
Missa hooked her thumb over the back of his hand, lowering it until she no longer felt like she was pulling away from him. She let her arm fall to her side, taking a step backwards.
"I apologize. I had no right to ask." She said quietly. Jimmy shook his head.
"Nothing to be sorry about, Miss Missa." She shuffled her feet. "You have yourself a good evening." She nodded, taking that as her cue to leave.
The night air was cold when she emerged from the tent, and goosebumps blossomed on her skin. Her cheeks were still red and her mind a bit shaky, but she told herself she would walk to the field, alone, and see the show again.
Hello again, people! I've decided that I like Freak Show so much that I'd write a fic for it! Not sure if I'll follow the TV show or freestyle, but Missa's story is pretty much all planned out in my brain so I might deviate a lot, depending on how much the writing bug bites me!
As for the rating, I'm keeping it at T despite the fact that the premiere episode made it explicitly clear that the show itself would be rated M. That said, graphic smutty scenes make me nervous, so I'm glossing over the sexual content while also not adding any of my own.
That said, ciao!