July 26, 1880, Edinburgh, Scotland

A small child, barely eight years old, stumbled out of a dark alley. He was naked as a newborn with only a large, expensive-looking coat as his cover. His long reddish brown hair was tangled with grass and branches. His arms coated with dirt and mud and his small feet covered with cuts.

Thunderous footsteps were heading in his direction. Seconds later, the child felt himself pushed aside as a crowd of policemen, headed by an inspector, rushed past him. They were shouting something that caused the townspeople to stop whatever they were doing and follow them.

"The crystal! It's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Saw it vanish from a distance! When I got there, all that's left were clothes. "

Soon, most of the people were rushing on, following the policemen. They paid no heed to the small child that was sprawled on the ground. The disappearance of the crystal which had served as one of the town's attraction was much more important. It had stood there in that pasture for almost thirty years; for it to suddenly vanish was a mystery.

But the small child did not hear any of it. In fact, if the glazed look he sported was to go by, he was barely paying attention to the ongoing around him. He picked himself off the ground and continued walking. He walked on, dragging his small feet onward. His destination? Nowhere.

He walked and walked until he bumped into someone. Once again, he fell on the ground.

"Watch where yer goin', kid!" The man growled. He would have continued on had he not seen the coat the child was wearing. "Where didja get this coat? Didja steal it?"

The child did not reply for he had no awareness of the world. He merely gazed blankly at the mean-looking man. The man, annoyed, grabbed the child's large coat and shook it. The coat bunched up and a part of the child's arm was revealed.

The man gasped as the child's hideous, wrinkled, red hand was shown.

"Oi, Fredrick, get a load of this!" The man seemingly called to his companion.

Somebody approached them. It was a thin man with wide eyes.

Fredrick gasped as he too saw the arm.

"Seems like we hit the jackpot, Tom." He smirked. He was one of those traders who picked up homeless kids and sold them to dealers. They could not care less whatever the dealer wanted the child for.

"How much do you reckon he'll sell?" Tom asked as he picked up the nonresponsive child and loaded him with the others in the carriage.

"More than a hundred pounds, I reckon. We'll be rich." Fred replied. He swung on the carriage and took the bridle.

"Circus is still in town." Tom said with a greedy smile on his face.

"Ringmaster ain't a cheapskate either." His partner agreed.

The children in the carriage were oblivious of their fate. They were chattering excitedly about the new and happy life that the two weird but nice men promised. They tried to talk to the new addition, but he was ignoring them. Soon, they lost interest in the red-haired child.

A smile was shared as the two rode off to the town's center. The circus was showing there and if their information was correct, then it would be leaving today in the evening. They had to hurry if they wanted their money.

The carriage hit a large bump that momentarily unbalanced it. The children cried as they were rattled inside. One particular child had hit his head hard on the carriage's wall. He cried out, the first sound he produced since discovery, and curled inward, clutching his aching head with his hands. But as he moved his left, it was wracked with pain.

There were gasps around him as he held his throbbing head. A moment and the ache passed. He tentatively raised his head and became aware of his surroundings.

Where...? He blinked. He was surrounded by children from the age four to ten, and all were pointing at him.

What...? They sat at a distance away from him. They were whispering amongst themselves.

"What's that?"

"Demon..."

"Freak!"

"Monster..!" The child was confused. Were they talking about him? For that matter, who was he? He looked down at where the other children were pointing at.

And he too gave a gasp as he saw his left hand. A red, grotesque left hand with something embedded over it that glowed a dull green. He tried to move it, but found that he could not.

The carriage stopped and music could be heard through the folds of the carriage. Then light streamed into the carriage as a man looked through.

"You, Red, come o'er here." The man was pointing at the small child.

Did he mean me? The child wondered. He started to crawl towards the man. The other children gave way, some even emitting scared squeaks.

As soon as he was within range, the man hoisted him up by the armpits and lowered him on the ground.

"Hey, Fred! I got 'im!" The man shouted. Tom led the child to his companion who was talking to a pudgy man, the Ringmaster.

"How much can we get?" Tom asked the Ringmaster who was inspecting the child's face.

"He doesn't look horrible. However, that depends if you're telling the truth. Show me." The Ringmaster ordered.

Fred yanked the left sleeve of the coat, showing the blood red, wrinkled arm of the boy.

"Marvelous. Simply horrible. Yes, yes, he will do well with the show." The Ringmaster exclaimed. He began the negotiation with the pair.

"Fine, a hundred pounds, that's all I can give." The Ringmaster finally relented. He pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket and handed it to the one known as Fred. Fred pocketed it with a grin.

He put a hand at the child's back and gave a slight push. The child stumbled a bit with his too large coat.

"Go on, kiddo. Bye!" The two men chortled as they headed back to their carriage.

"Come, boy." The Ringmaster ordered. The child followed, dragging his coat on the ground. "What is your name?"

The child opened his mouth to answer, but found that he could not find the answer to the question.

"I dunno, sir. Will I get one?"

The Ringmaster glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? Hmm, it doesn't matter. You are simply nameless here. Come now. Hurry. We need you outfitted for our next performance at the next town."

"P-performance?" The child asked.

"Why, yes. You shall be showcasing that horrible arm of yours. I am willing to bet that it would give us a fortune."

"But, but..." The child was reluctant. He felt that showing off his arm in public would cause more harm than good.

"But what?" The Ringmaster impatiently asked.

"I, I can't do anything with this arm. It's paralyzed, sir." The child reluctantly answered. They had reached a bright orange tent.

The Ringmaster had a sour look on his face.

"But I can do odd jobs here, sir! I promise! You don't even hafta pay me! J-just gimme somethin' ta eat..." The child pleaded even as he clutched the coat closer.

The Ringmaster did not answer. "Jessie!" he called.

"Yes, sir?" A young woman poked her head out of a clothes rack.

"Get this child some clothes." The Ringmaster ordered. He then turned to the boy. "And you, report to me at eight later in the evening. Find me at the red tent with white strips." He said this while jabbing his cane at the boy's chest.

"Y-yes, sir!" The child promised and watched as the Ringmaster shot him a disgusted look and left.

"Boy, come here." The woman called Jessie said. The child shuffled forward. "Remove that coat. I need to get your measurements."

The child unbuttoned the coat and it fell at a bunch at his feet. He was aware of his nakedness and the daft coming from outside as he watched the woman shuffle about looking for something to wear.

"Here, try thi-Oh dear Lord, what is that?!" She shrieked as she saw the deformed arm. She dropped the bundle of clothes she was holding. "Boy, what have you been doing to yourself?"

"I,I,I..." The child stuttered. He saw the fearful look the woman had shot him. So much disgust and fear. He felt his knees weaken and he fell on his coat.

"Lord, protect me from this accursed child and lead me away from temptations." The woman prayed. She made the Sign of the Cross as she finished with her prayer. She took a deep breath as she picked up the clothes and threw them at the child. "Here, take this. Go take a wash. The water's at the back. And don't ever think of comin' back 'ere, you freak."

The child picked up the clothes and buttoned on his coat. He made quick work of cleaning himself as he scrubbed off the crusts of dirt on his smooth hand and untangled the branches from his hair. In a few minutes, he was clean and outfitted in his new clothes.

The shirt the woman gave him was a size too big and the collar was somewhat frayed around the edges. The vest the woman provided were too short and the shorts were too big. If he wanted to, he could pull on the garter and cover his entire head. Although Jessie had practically thrown him out of the tent, she was kind enough to provide a hair tie for him.

The child took a look at the coat he had worn and folded it neatly, before stuffing it in the pocket of his shorts' large pocket. He would find a place to store it later. He glanced up the sky and saw that it was still afternoon. Subconsciously, he knew that it was nearing five in the afternoon.

With three hours to spare, he decided to explore and find scissors to cut his hair. It flowed up to his back, even if it was tied. Resolving to find someone with scissors, or a knife, he trudged through the place which he knew now was a circus.

He was awed by what he saw. There were many colors and sounds. The air was filled with adults and children's laughter alike as they approached the different stalls of food and games. He saw a lady wield an air gun and shoot at a target.

The child itched to play at least one of the games, but he knew that the Ringmaster would not approve of it. Then again, if the booth handler saw his left arm, he would be chased out before he could open his mouth. He trudged onwards searching for someone who could lend him scissors.

On his way, he saw a clown balancing on a ball while juggling bowling pins. Children crowded around the clown, oohing and awwing. Then the clown slid off the ball and stumbled slightly. He made his stumble comical even though the child knew that the stumble was unintentional.

The clown began held out a hand and people threw money in it. The clown finished collecting money and gave a low bow. The crowd dispersed, seeing that the performance was done. The child continued on his exploration.

Before he knew it, the sky had been tinged with orange with night only a few minutes away. The child hurried to the red-white tent which happened to be the largest tent there was. The Ringmaster was already waiting for him. And he did not look pleased.

"What kept you, boy?!" The Ringmaster raged. "Hurry up. In here."

There were people streaming out of the tent, laughing and chattering excitedly with each other. Some carried cups of soda and popcorn which they haphazardly threw on the ground.

The Ringmaster and the child slipped into the tent, avoiding the outgoing people, and stopped behind the chairs. The performers were already taking down the streamers and rings that decorated the tent.

"Kid, your job is to store those props in the boxes backstage. The boxes are already labeled accordingly. I will check up on you by ten." The Ringmaster ordered.

The child gave a sweeping glance at the tent's interior. He gulped. Some people were already looking at him coldly and he knew that they'd already heard about him from the lady.

He hurried on to the first prop he saw and began gathering. He tried to ignore how some people skirted away from him.

"Oi, kid with the red arm," Somebody called him. It was the clown from earlier. The one who stumbled. "You missed some props here."

"Y-yes!" The child answered. He held the gathered props with his paralyzed left arm and went to where the clown was pointing. As soon as he reached the clown, he felt a sharp kick to his ribs. He met the ground for the fourth time that day. The props he'd gathered scattered everywhere.

He heard laughter and saw through teary eyes the clown laughing at him.

"That's what freaks deserved, you demon." The clown sneered. Laughing, he exited the tent.

The child was hurt, but the emotional pain was greater than the physical. He felt like crying, but he refused to let the stupid clown know he had hurt him. Instead, he bent down and retrieved the fallen props. He noticed that nobody had stopped to help him as he gathered the props one-handed. Instead, he could feel their stares as they waited. Perhaps for him to snap and hurt that clown?

He said nothing and took the props backstage. He saw the boxes the Ringmaster mentioned. He reached up to put the props in the 'Rings' box but stopped as he felt pain in his ribs. The clown, it seemed, had bruised his ribs.

He clenched his teeth and continued with his action. He would do this. He had to do this. If he didn't, where would he go? He had no memories of anything. He just had to continue this until he grew stronger and be self-sufficient enough to leave.

Yes, that's what he would do. And that's what he did for two years until a certain clown arrived and took him away.

Thanks to Aine, QuietRose-13, Tora19Kage and Happycafegirl for reading this through, and following, faving and/or reviewing this fic :)

I've decided to continue this. Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think. Reviews are love :)

Next: December 25, 1882