Day Two
April 2, 1906

The air was heavy and damp. There was the sound of dripping water somewhere distant, and the stench of raw sewage clogged his nose. His first reaction was to back away from the source of the smell, but there was no back where he was. He boggled at that realization for several seconds – how could such a thing be true? But it was, and it was something that he knew with more certainty than he'd ever felt before. There was no back, no front, no left, and no right.

There also wasn't any light, and he wondered for the briefest moment if he'd been struck blind somehow.

what are you?

The words came from all around, and he heard them twice: once echoing inside his head, followed a split second later his ears.

why can you see me?

Two bright orange points of flame appeared, but they weren't flames at all. They were eyes, and Bob's head ached at the mere sight of them.

come closer.

There was the feeling of being pushed, no, not pushed. Fired across the void around him, like the human cannonball act that had been added to the show the previous year. He was moving, moving at an incredible speed, towards...

Towards what?

He was definitely going forward now, but forward from where? There was the sensation of passing things at great speed, but there was no sound of moving air, no wind roaring in his ears. There was finally light, the light of stars, and he realized that he was flying towards them. He stared at them as they flew by, unable to comprehend the implications of what he was seeing. Other objects flew by: large spiraling discs of light, dark voids that had bands of light twisted around them, and small round objects that he had the strangest feeling were planets of some kind.

But there was something else. He had the feeling of something ahead of him, something of immense size and power. He just barely see it on the edge of his vision, coming closer. He shook his head (and was strangely surprised that he had a head to shake for some reason) and blinked his eyes when he saw that it was a turtle.

he cannot help you.

It was the largest thing he had ever seen, he was unable to truly grasp the size of it as he approached it. The shell was brightly patterned with blues, greens, and a myriad other colors scattered across it. Stars winked and sparkled across it, and more spirals of bright light were visible in its flippers. Those flippers, along with the turtle's head, were pulled back into the shell; it was asleep.

Bob was skidding by the turtle's front, and the shell seemed to stretch out forever ahead of him. It reminded him of being on a narrow mountain path, with a sheer cliff to one side.

He was flying past its back half now, and he saw more bright spirals of light in its claws just before he was beyond them. Then he was leaving the sleeping turtle behind him and flying onward. There was something else up there -

(The end of everything)

- something that made his heart hammer, that made him wish he could shut his eyes and curl up in a dark corner of his wagon and never come out. Something that he did not want to come any closer to.

It appeared in front of him, just barely visible as a gray shape that seemed to change and flow before settling into the bars of a cage, like the one they kept the tigers in, as he moved closer to it. The bars gleamed with a hellish orange light

(Deadlights)

that shone out between them.

that's close enough for now.

Bob stopped. No slow down, no easing off. He just stopped, and though he could only get the barest glimpses of the light beyond the bars, he had a certainty that it could see him just fine. There was an angry buzzing, like a thousands bees were inside his head, and the memories of his life began to appear in his mind's eye, like the illustrated song that he'd seen in a nickelodeon a few years before. He saw memories of performing his dancing act, of handing out penny balloons to eager children, listening to Wilhelmina reading out loud, spending time with the other members of the troupe, a nun placing a dark haired, blue eyed infant in his arms, spending the night with a young lady who insisted he stay in character as Pennywise the entire time, making his Pennywise costume, struggling with learning to read and write, being held in Willie's arms after a group of children attacked him for being a freak and a moron, and eating dinner in the mess tent with Willie and the other clowns after a long day. There was one last memory, of being in suffocating darkness while something soft came up to cradle him, crying while the warm arms that held him pulled away and left him.

you are grown, yet you are a child.

There was a pause, and Bob clapped his hands over his ears as laughter rang all around him, echoing inside his head. There was a hard push, and he found himself flying back the way he had come, away from the bars and the light, back past the turtle, past all the stars and spirals, back to the void in which he had started, back to -

OOOOOO

Bob's eyes flew open, and he sucked in a great lungful of air. He felt cold sweat trickling down his face and soaking into his hair and the collar of his shirt. He sat up in the darkened interior of his wagon, grasping the sweat damp sheet beneath him to anchor himself to the waking world. He rubbed at his face as his chest heaved, and he felt the tremor that shook his entire body.

"Papa?"

Bob yelped and threw himself against the wall that his bunk was built into. Only then did he register the identity of the voice.

"Wilhelmina?" He reached out in the dark with one shaking hand and lightly brushed his fingers across her face. Her own hand then grasped onto his. He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand as he slumped back against the wall. He was awake. He was in his bunk in his wagon. It had just been a dream.

He sucked in another breath, and then he burst into tears.

OOOOOO

Bob watched as Wilhelmina was reluctantly herded out of the wagon by Mary and Ann, leaving him with Joseph Shrine and Doc Hart.

Doc gently tilted his head back and pulled the wadded cloth away from his nose. "It looks like the bleeding has finally stopped there."

Mr. Shrine looked down at him as Doc stepped away to get a clean cloth from the wash basin. "What happened, Bob? Wilhelmina was hysterical, and she roused nearly everyone."

Bob let his chin sink to his chest as heat flooded his cheeks. "I..." I saw outside of Earth. I saw a giant turtle. I heard a terrible voice. The words were right there, but he held them back. It he spoke them, he would be thought lying or crazy.

Mr. Shrine wouldn't believe him.

"I just had a bad dream." he finally said just above a whisper. He kept his head down; he knew with a certainty that if he were to look up. Mr. Shrine and Doc would see the lie painted on his face.

"It must have been one very serious dream," Doc said as he stepped up with a damp cloth and began to wipe at the dried blood on Bob's head, face, and neck, "if it was vivid enough to make you bleed from your nose and ears."

Bob said nothing.

"Is he fit to perform later?" Mr. Shrine asked.

"I cannot say right now." Doc replied as he continued to wash the blood off of Bob's face. "If the bleeding does not restart, and as long as he doesn't suffer any dizziness, lightheadedness, or blackouts, I'll release him in time for the first show."

Doc stepped back. "I know this sounds familiar, but stay in here and take it easy, Bob. No strenuous activity. If you start to feel unwell, send someone to come and find me. You may, of course, join everyone for meals in the mess tent, but other than that, I want you in here relaxing. Behave, and you'll dance for everyone like always. Disobey me, and I'll keep you in here all day. Am I understood?"

Bob felt the man's stern gaze on him, and he hastily nodded. Doc made good on his threats, and despite everything, he wanted to do his show. He loved being Pennywise, and the thought of missing out on it made his stomach twist and curl.

Doc stepped out, but Mr. Shrine remained, standing in front of where Bob sat on his bunk.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Robert?" the Ringmaster said quietly, and Bob drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. "I've known you since you were a babe, and I know what that posture means, so tell me the truth."

"I hate it here."

"I know." Mr. Shrine sighed, a heavy sound that made Bob look up at him. "You've always hated this town."

"There's something here." Bob put his head back down on his knees, swallowed a lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, and continued. "It's evil. If we stay here, I'm afraid that.. that something awful will happen."

"You know that we can't leave, and you know why. We can't afford to lose another week after that last town canceled on us. It's already thrown our schedule and finances off enough as it is."

"It's not safe for -" - me. "- us here."

"We have to stay and see the week through, but I promise as soon as the last show is done, we'll pack up and get out as soon as we can."

Bob looked at Mr. Shrine again. "You mean it?"

The ringmaster graced him with a small smile. "I do." He gently placed his hand down on the top of Bob's head, an affectionate gesture that Willie had also done on a regular basis. "Now you make sure you do as Doc told you. We can't have the circus without Pennywise, after all."

Bob managed a small smile as Mr. Shrine walked out of the wagon, and once he was gone, Bob uncurled himself and stood up. He wanted to make sure his costume was ready to go, just in case.

OOOOOO

"Are you all right, Bob?" one of the elephant handlers asked, and Bob nearly groaned as he made the walk across the field to the mess tent. How many times did this make? Did everyone know about his nightmare and the bleeding it had caused?

How many people had Wilhelmina told?

Bob felt a surge of irritation towards his daughter, but he pushed it down. He had bled quite a lot, so much that he'd thrown away the pillow that he'd been using. There was simply no way to get it clean again.

The sound of her father crying out in his sleep -

You were crying, Papa. You sounded so scared.

- and the sight of all the blood had sent her into hysterics. Her reaction - fleeing the wagon and rousing everyone she could – could be expected. She was only six after all.

"Hey Bob, you feelin' okay?"

That didn't make the constant questions any less annoying though.

"Are you sure that you should be up and moving around?"

"Maybe you should go back to bed."

"Doing all right there, Bob?"

Maybe he should make a sign. I'm fine, thanks for asking. His handwriting was absolute chicken scratch, but it would get the message across at least.

Maybe.

"Weren't you told to take it easy today, Bob?"

He grumbled as he pushed the flap aside and stepped into the large tent that served as the dining hall, whereupon he spotted Wilhelmina seated with the voltige team. She looked up, spotted him walking in, and jumped to her feet to run over to him. Her arms wound around his waist and squeezed.

"Are you okay now, Papa?" she asked as her blue eyes gazed up at him.

He felt another wave of irritation. "I'm fine." he said, a little sharper than intended, followed by the wash of guilt when her face fell. He laid a hand on her head. "Sorry, Wills. I'm just tired of being asked that. Now let's go eat."

She gave him a tentative smile. "Okay."

She let her arms drop, slipped her hand into his, and led him over to a table.

OOOOOO

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Step right up! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cheer, you'll die! Introducing Pennywise, the Daaaaancing Clown!"

Applause came from outside the wagon, and a second later, the large side door dropped down, which allowed Pennywise to see the crowd that had gathered to watch. Behind the wagon, Wilhelmina laid on the keys of the small calliope that was shared by all the individual acts (She had gotten very good at it, he realized.) and he began to dance. Following a beat that only he could hear, he ignored the watching crowd as he leapt, spun, and bounced across the floor of the wagon. He was faintly aware of the sound of coins landing on the wooden floor around him as the watching crowd threw pennies at him in appreciation. Some of it would go to Mr. Shrine, some would be given to Wilhelmina, Bob would keep some of it for himself, and the rest would be set aside for his penny balloons.

The music increased in tempo, and Pennywise did the same. The bells on his costume jingled as he moved, and he was faintly aware of the children in the watching crowd calling his name as he lost himself in the music. More coins rained down around him, and then, by some sense that he couldn't explain, he and Wilhelmina stopped. The music stopped, and he froze in mid step, his arms held above his head, his right foot out in front of his left. The crowd erupted into applause, and a few seconds later, Mr. Shrine's voice rang out over the grounds, announcing the opening of the main show.

Pennywise bowed as people began to filter away down the path to the big top, and once everyone had left, he stepped to the side and pulled on the chain that raised the side door. He closed it, latched it, and he began to gather up the money on the floor. Wilhelmina joined him, and they gathered up all the coins and secured them in a lock box in the wagon's living area. They would count and divide it up later.

"Good playing on the calliope, Wills." Bob told her as they waited for the line for the big top to disperse. Once it was gone, they would meet up with the others waiting to do their shows. Pennywise was part of the clowns' main act, and Wilhelmina would help wherever she was needed.

She grinned happily. "Thank you, Papa."

They relaxed for a moment as they waited for the murmuring of voices outside to die down, and Bob wondered if there was the possibility of her joining him in his act later, as more than the player behind the music. He smiled at the thought of two dancing clowns, playing off of each other, but no, he reminded himself. Her dream was to join the voltige team in the ring. She'd already trained with them quite a bit, and there was talk about officially adding her to the act when she was a little older.

She came and sat down next to him, and his bells jingled as he draped one arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the top of her head. She giggled and curled into his side.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you..." She paused, and Bob heard her lick her lips. "Do you think that, when I go out into the ring for the first time, that maybe my mom will be watching?"

"I don't know." he answered. "I haven't seen her since... since the day we made you."

That had been his first time doing anything like that, and it had been nice enough, he supposed. She had been very interested in Pennywise, but not in Bob Gray, which he had thought odd, but he had stayed and done as she asked. She had promptly kicked him out of her bed and her house once they had finished, leaving him to return to his wagon all alone in the middle of the night.

Wilhelmina made a small sound and nestled closer to him, and Bob noted that things outside had gone quiet. He gave Wilhelmina a one armed squeeze and stood up. "C'mon. We have to get going."

She sighed but stood up and followed him out of the wagon.

OOOOOO

The crowd roared with laughter as Pennywise stomped his feet and pretended to pull his hair out of his head. Around him the other clowns ran around in a circle, each "riding" a random piece of furniture or household item. Snickers whooped as he skipped by, riding a broom like a horse, for for said "horse" to stuck bucking wildly before throwing him to the side. The crowd laughed again, and Pennywise covered his face with his hands as their "rodeo" went completely off the rails.

Pennywise spread his hands and looked up at the ceiling of the tent in a "Why me?" gesture, and he lowered his hand to "glare" at the other clowns when something else caught his attention.

The stands were packed with people of all ages, applauding and cheering at the act, which made the sole person that wasn't stand out all the more. The figure was standing in the exact center of the stands along one side of the tent, with a ring of empty space surrounding him. (Her? It?) The person was pale, and dark haired, but he could pick out no details of the face or the clothing. The figure just stood there, staring, until a shout from one of the other clowns pulled his attention back to the act he was supposed to be performing.

When he glanced back up at the stands a second later, the figure was gone.

OOOOOO

The rest of the circus went on like it always did. Bob helped out behind the scenes where he was needed, though he spared a moment to watch the voltige act with Wilhelmina. Finally, the last act finished, the crowd dispersed, and the performers were able to begin the process of cleaning up and resetting for the next day. Once that was done, everyone drifted over to the mess tent for a late meal before heading off to find beds. Wilhelmina had pleaded for permission to spend the night with a friend, and after listening to her all the way through supper, Bob had agreed, simply so he could enjoy his meal in peace. So he would have the wagon to himself for the night.

Bob rubbed sand from his eyes as he climbed the steps to his wagon. His body ached, and he kept picturing his bed in his mind as he reached for the door. As he turned the knob and pulled, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The door swung open, and Bob found himself frozen in place.

The interior of the wagon was dark, and the door to the living area, which he had closed earlier, was standing open. On the other side of that shadowed opening, was a shape, an even darker shadow that could just barely be seen.

Bob blinked and rubbed at his eyes, but the image did not vanish. He went to take a step back, but his feet refused to move. The shadow remained where it was, and then the lights appeared.

Two bright points of orange light burst into existence, yet no light shone on the area around them. Bob tried to shut his eyes, but his eyelids obeyed no better than his feet had just a moment before.

want to play?

"Nnnnn..." Bob felt as though something had wound itself tightly around his entire body and was squeezing him. He couldn't seem to catch any breath, and his heart trembled and spasmed in his chest. His head swam as laughter rang out in his ears, and the shadow vanished with a loud snapping sound. Bob stumbled forward and threw his hands out just in time to stop his face from slamming into the stage floor.

He raised his head, heart hammering, breath wheezing in and out of his lungs, and looked.

Nothing.

He scrambled up into a sitting position, and then he scuttled back across the floor to wall opposite the living area and pressed himself into a corner. There he stayed, until the first streaks of dawn lit the sky.