A dark haired girl dressed in a plain black smock, black cloak, black hat with veil and a worn red scarf sat on the beach, clutching a patched up red and pink floral-patterned carpetbag on her lap against her chest with her right arm and a chipped mahogany violin case slung under her left arm. Shivering slightly as the salty sea breeze caressed her face and occasionally carry some ocean mist that would dampen her.

To keep herself dry, she turned to the crowd of people leaving, both on the pier and on the beach, trying to pick out her father as well as just to observe them. She was amazed at the variety of people there were; elderly nobles, young nouveau riche, families of three to thirteen and bellowing beggars. As they left, the freaks bid them a fine farewell, entertaining them on the way out. She smiled, admiring all the tricks and talent they presented, wishing she could get a better look but her father told her to wait on the beach.

Turning away from the crowd, she let her arm fall from her violin case to draw circles in the damp sand. She hummed a tune, while closing her eyes to relax. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she couldn't. Tilting her head upward, she opened her eyes to stare at the cloudy sky and the dimming light to keep herself awake.

"Do you play?"

Rolling her head to the side, she saw a small child, a boy no more than eight, blond wearing a gold "comedy" theatre mask that they sold at the stands. When he noticed her looking, he gently tapped the violin case.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know." The boy nodded and sat across from her. "Hi, I'm Jules, what's your name?"

"Sorelli…" she nodded. "Um, where are your parents?"

"Working." He pointed at her violin again. "Can you play for me?"

Sorelli looked at the child with narrowed eyes. "Do your parents know you're here?"

"… Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"They know I'm in Phantasma." Jules stood up. "But not," he hopped. "Here, specifically."

Sorelli stared at him and blinked a few times. "You should go to your parents."

He smiled and hopped again. "I will if you play for me."

Sorelli rolled her eyes and groaned. "Fine…"

Setting down her carpet bag, she opened her mahogany case. While it still did cradle her violin perfectly, the red velvet was torn and the stuffing showing. She picked up her violin and placed the bottom of it in the crook of her neck with her left hand, she used her right thumb and pointer finger to test each string individually while holding the bow in the other three. After adjusting the knobs to her desired tightness. She quickly grazed her bow over the strings to test the sound and found it was satisfactory.

Jules waited patiently for her and sat down while crossing his legs. When she finished preparing, he stood up in full attention. Sorelli thought of a song to play, then settled on Ave Maria. She began to play slowly, trying to recall the notes before Jules stood up.

"You're not letting the music guide you."

She looked at him oddly. "What?"

"You're too focused on remembering, guiding the music, when it should guide you." Jules stated. "As it play, just let one note come right after the other, feel it, don't do it."

"…"

"That's what my father does."

Sorelli sighed, but decided to take the young child's instruction to heart anyway. Closing her eyes, she focused on the feeling of her bow. As she stroked each note, she didn't try to remember the next, she just let herself stroke the note into music. As she continued, the notes began to melt into a perfect melody. When she found a good place to stop, she let the last note trail off softly.

Jules clapped and hopped, waving his arms widely. "Brava! Brava! Bravissima!"

Sorelli laughed and gave an exaggerated bow. "Thank you, thank you…" she reached for her carpet bag. "You have been a wonderful audience." When she got a handful of air, her eyes immediately darted down. Letting out a shriek, she turned all around. It was gone.

"NO!" She cried out, bursting into tears. "It's gone!"

Jules jumped in shock but immediately ran to her. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"It's gone!" She repeated, tears streaking down her cheeks. "That bag… My mother's…" She clutched her chest and continued to sob.

Jules gently grabbed her arms. "It was red and pink, with flowers and patches right?"

Unable to talk, Sorelli nodded crying. Jules immediately jumped onto the wooden pier and pulled himself up.

"Everyone!" He called calmly.

Suddenly all the freaks dropped what they were doing (save the sword swallower who needed to remove it safely) and turned to Jules.

"My friend Sorelli's carpetbag has been stolen! Spread the word and look for a red and pink carpetbag, with a floral print and some patches! Don't let them get out of the gate!"

"Yes young master!"

Each and every freak went running with their eyes turned down, they spread the word to other freaks and they went running as well. Sorelli stood their dumbfounded as they all began to run to the gate, forming one giant wall of oddities that extended onto the beach and into the ocean on both sides. No one would cross without having their bag checked.

"Master! We've got him!" some freaks exclaimed on the beach, one with abnormally tall legs holding the carpet bag and another heavily built one holding the gruff, tattered purse-snatcher.

"Let me go you freaks of nature!" He grumbled, struggling in their grip.

Sorelli ran and grabbed her carpetbag. "Thank you so much!" She pulled it close to her chest and hugged it.

Jules marched up to the strongman, who dangled the thief at eye level upside-down. Jules knocked his knuckles twice between his eyes and put his hands on his hips.

"Don't you know stealing is illegal mister? I'm afraid to say I banish you from Phantasma!"

"Don't you know it's rude to talk back at adults, you little brat!" he swung at the boy, but the strongman pulled him back enough so Jules wouldn't be hit, but he did knock off his mask.

"And you're coming with us, to the police." The strongman dragged him away.

Sorelli went to Jules's side. "Are you hurt?"

Jules looked at her, covering the left side of his face. "I'm fine."

"Did he hit you there?" Sorelli gently touched his hands. "Is it bruised or bleeding?"

Jules looked down. "No… I just don't want to show you." He picked up his mask and rubbed it against his chest. "I'm… I'm like those guys." He pointed to the freaks. "But… Worse to other people."

Sorelli looked up at him. "Jules…" She put her arm around him. "I have to go back, but how about I tell you a secret?"

Jules put on his mask. "Sure!"

"My dad was one too, a freak I guess." Sorelli spoke smiling. "He had a deformed face, on his left side. He also didn't have much hair. I've never met him, but I have seen his picture. I got so used to how he looked, it never bothered me anymore."

Jules stopped in his tracks.

Sorelli turned to him. "Jules?"

"… How old are you?"

"Sixteen why?"

"Oh good, that means my dad wasn't married to my mom and someone else at the same time."

Sorelli turned to him. "Wait, what?"

"My parent's tenth anniversary is this December."

Sorelli grabbed his shoulders and got down to his height. "Jules…" She began firmly. "Are you saying you think we have the same father?"

"I think so…" Jules trailed off. "Well, have a look and see if I look like him!" He chirped happily taking off his mask.