The Crow: Circus Maximus



He killed me. He killed me and the one I loved, the only one who I ever did. And she loved me, too. Yes, yes, those days are over now. I felt the warm breeze brought up by The Crow's wings in the dead of night. We were one, The Crow and I, the same blood flowed through our veins.
I was a clown back then. Thats right, a circus clown. Laugh if you will, but I was not the kind of clown you are probably accustomed to. I wore no colorful wigs or baggy suits. No, I wore a long, dark coat. I wore strictly white and black face paint, stabbing lines protruded from both top and bottom eyelids. I wore a wicked frown painted on my cheeks.
I was The Sad Clown. It was my duty to stand and take the abuse from the other clowns for the audience's amusement. Our circus was unlike most others as well. We were The Circus Maximus, our name taken from the ancient Roman festivals of games and sport. Children were not to attend our shows, for our circus was a circus of blood and pain. Nobody really died, it was all just an act, we would stage the gruesome death of a clown at every one of our shows. I was always that clown
None the other clowns had a grudge with me outside the big top, except for one. He was The Evil Clown. He wore red paint and a crimson cloak, he had an exceptionally odd grin when he performed. He would give the crowd stares that would freeze the black hearts of The Dark Ones themselves. He cared not for me because this clown was fond of my wife.
Ah, Kyra my sweet. Her hair was as black as pitch and her skin was as smooth as marble and pale as the full moon. Yes, The Evil Clown lusted for her greatly, but she only knew love for I. And she was the only one I had ever loved. My parents had been murdered when I was but five years old. How could I have known I would suffer the same fate?
The Evil Clown would sit, watching us after the shows. Oh, he was jealous. He would stare at Kyra with an intesity that would tie my stomach into knots. I hated him and he hated me back. The most unfortunate thing, though, was at every show The Evil Clown would be the one to kill The Sad Clown. I used to think that one night he would really do it, so he could take my wife from me.
It was a cold night, the night I died. It was in the night before Halloween. Devil's Night, I had heard it called once before. That night I was to stand in the centre ring as The Evil Clown stabbed at me with his retractable knife and I was to fall to the ground dead. The trick always looked real enough, scream or laughs would would come from the crowd.
The show started, the flame blowers and the lion tamers awed the audience until it was time for the big finale. I slowly and woefully walked out to the ring and stood with my arms outstretched until The Evil Clown appeared. He was seething with malevolence, he danced around, frightening the crowd with promises of blood and death. I simply stood, staring. This "death" was nothing new. Usually once a month I would be stabbed, other nights I was beheaded, hanged, burned alive, suffocated. My darling didn't particularly like my job, but the pay was supporting us well enough.
The time had come for me to meet my end. The Evil Clown approached me and unsheathed the knife from his belt. He slowly stalked to me and bent over to whisper into my ear.
"She refused me," he said. "She refused me and I slit her throat, from ear to ear. Yes, she cried like a child as I dregged this very blade across her ever slender neck."
All I could think about was killing this man. I didn't even know if he was telling me true or trying to manipulate me. I began to turn around as I felt a searing pain in me abdomen. Quickly and visciously he was driving the very real knife into and out my torso. I fell to the ground and he followed, pushing the blade one final time into the depths of my heart and I died.
Suddenly, I felt no pain. I found my self in a white room, empty, save two looming, black oaken chairs. A black crow was perched upon the chair to my left.
Please, have a seat, I heard in my head.
"Where am I? Where is Kyra," I asked the bird, walking towads the vacant chair. I sat and stared and this black bird. I saw my reflection in his eyes, I was still in my suit. My long coat and pants, my black shirt and my white face paint.
You have been chosen to avenge your death under that dark wing of The Crow. I stood up quickly and approched the bird.
"Where is my wife?"
She's gone, my friend. The man that killed the two of you also murdered the rest of the clowns at your circus, this Circus Maximus.
"Impossible," I began to pace back and forth between the two chairs, a picture of me sweet Kyra embedded into my brain. "I must revenge her death."
And that you will. I will send you back now.
I was standing outside th big top. I looked around to see that all the audience had left, their cars gone. I began walking to the entrance of the tent when the crow landed on my shoulder. I gace the bird no second thought as I entered and was drawn back by my utter horror.
Bodies. Dozens of bodies filled the tent. Every member of our circus was lying mutilated on the ground. And then I saw him. The Evil Clown. He stood over the corpse of my precious. She was as beautiful and radiant as ever, despite her cut flesh and lifeless eyes.
I slowly walked up behind him. I worried that he would here my breathing when I noticed that it was no longer needed. He must have sensed my presence, because he quickly turned around and stabbed at my neck with his knife. I felt no pain. The wound healed itself up and started staggering away I gave chase and lifted him off his feet by his neck. I can't quite recall what I told him, it was such an intense moment. I remember him begging for his life. He told me that he meant to hurt no one. That none of this would have happened if Kyra had accepted his love. But I heard nothing of this. With one fast movement I broke his frail neck and dropped him to the ground.
I felt a tingling sensation wash over my body as collapsed to the ground, dying once again.