Sara was deep in her dreams. Most had been pleasant since she'd had such friendly company in the house in recent days. The one that haunted her sleep tonight was dark however, something from her childhood, something she'd tried hard to forget.
Sara moaned, it was starting again. It was their third night traveling with the band of gypsies. Her father had secured her family with a bribe to Gondavia, the ring leader of this traveling swarm. That did not however, prevent them from witnessing the atrocities this sort of life swam in. Sara and her sister never strayed far from their father's side. Although all that were associated with this group knew that they were "off limits" it did not stop the leering looks, or comments under breath.
On the rare occasion that they did travel outside of their father's protective watch it was usually when the group had stopped in a town to perform. One night in particular kept playing over and over in this dream, tormenting Sara to the point of exhaustion. She'd woken several times trying to shake it from her mind, but each time she returned to her bed, it came back like a rushing wind you couldn't hide from.
Sara and her sister were hand in hand, mingling with the throngs of other children who moved in and out of all the freakish sights. The bearded lady, the flame eater, the contortionist, the snake with two heads. The dream would take on a fuzzy tone each time it came to the next part, it was as though her mind was fighting bringing this memory to the surface. Sara tossed and turned, thrashing about in her bed as she hadn't done in many years.
In her dream she began to move past all other things, now behind a large dark curtain, where a ghoulish man beckoned them with a long, filthy finger. There was much activity around a cage in the center of the tent, spitting and poking with sticks, blaspheming and verbal lashings. Sara and her sister were pushed through the adults by the crowd of children rushing in to get a better look.
There in the bottom of the cage, in a mound of muddied hay was a young boy, a burlap sack covering his head. His legs were caked with dried blood, dirt, and every vile thing one could imagine. He wore no shirt to protect him from the elements, and his shivering could have been from the temperature, although it seemed it may have come from the reactions of the throngs that circled his prison.
Sara and her sister stood in horror as she watched the man striking the boy with a whip before pulling the sack from his head to reveal a wretchedly deformed face. Sara saw the terror in the child's eyes, and a deep pang of guilt welled in her for even looking at him filling her with immediate shame. She grabbed her sister's hand pushing her way back through the crowds and out from the tent. They stood holding one another, tears filling their eyes. "How could they do such a cruel thing to such a boy? Surely a mother would never allow for it…maybe she died…maybe…" Sara took her sister into her arms, holding her close trying to hush her.
The other gypsies just looked on with vacant eyes…they'd long since lost sensitivity to such things…it was their way of life…shock and spectacle. Soon Sara could hear the coins dropping, and the mass of shameless on-lookers piled out of the tent. Sara and her sister made their way back to their wagon, climbing in and pulling the drape closed behind them.
"Sister, we must do something for him…I'm not sure what we can do, but something…." The two sat thinking. Surely anything that they did would have to be done in the silence of the night, when all were asleep. They talked of many things. Clothes…no, he would be found with them and just as quickly deprived, perhaps beaten for it. A bath? No…that too would betray him. The pair thought long and hard before coming up with an idea. They would give him a trinket, something he could hide beneath the hay, something that could bring him brief relief when no one was looking.
They dug through their trunks, considering each thing before deciding on a small monkey that had a pair of symbols in his hands. Putting it in a small burlap sack, they tucked in wrapped hard candies, a small crucifix, a washcloth, a tube of salve, a toothbrush. They wanted to put in so much more, but knew the larger the bag, the more easily it would be discovered.
They obeyed their father when he returned, retiring to bed in the back of the wagon. When the moon was high in the sky, and the last of the sounds from the drunkards had ceased, Sara and her sister crept, ever-so-quietly, from the wagon. Dark cloaks around them, they snuck back into the tent.
Inside they were relieved to find that it was empty, save the lonely form lying in the bottom of the cage. They approached slowly, and noticed the boy started to tremble. Surely they could only imagine what he had been witness to. He turned ever so slightly to face what horror awaited him. He scuffled back to the corner of the cage, cowering and pulling the bag even further down to his shoulders. Sara waited until she and her sister were right next to him before she began to whisper, "we mean you no harm."
The boy looked up through the cut-outs in the bag. Sara could see his pleading eyes. He could be no more than four or five, terrified beyond what she had ever known. "My sister and I have brought you a few things. We knew you couldn't have much or it would be discovered." She paused looking around the tent before she continued. "Are we alone now? Is it safe for us to stay awhile?" The boy nodded, but never spoke.
Sara and her sister sat down next to the cage, Sara lifting the corner of her dress she produced a bag of food and a jug of milk. The boy neither grabbed or behaved wildly, waiting as Sara handed it to him, uttering a small "thank you."
He pulled the salted meat first, carefully pulling off a piece, pushing it up under the bag that covered his face. He lifted the milk to his mouth, pushing up the bag just enough to drink from it. They sat in silence as he finished everything that Sara and her sister had brought for him, except the apple, that he tucked in a small bag beneath the hay.
Sara then reached beneath her cloak again, producing a second small bag, this one containing the items she and her sister had selected. "This is not much, but we pray that it will bring you some comfort." Sara handed it to him through the bars of the cage, his dirt covered hand touching hers. He tucked it under the hay, and scurried back to the corner of the cage. Sara winced, she wished she could hug the poor little boy.
"We can sit with you for awhile…talk if you'd like." The small boy moved slowly back to the side of the cage. "My name is Sara, and this is my sister Ruth. My family is traveling with your caravan until we find a suitable place to make our home." She waited for him to respond, but he did not. "What is your name?" Ruth asked quietly. A single strained word came from beneath the burlap "Erik." Sara smiled, "well then Erik, would you like me to tell you a story?" The small boy nodded.
Sara began to weave a tale about a princess in a castle, fairies and toads. They'd been sitting a long while, just listening to the story as Sara crafted it. "And then, the toad jumped into a deep puddle splashing the mud all over the wicked sister." The boy began to laugh…it was an odd laugh really… Sara sat straight up in her bed. The room was dark now, the cool of the night had settled in, but she felt like she was on fire… "ERIK?" That laugh had been familiar…but could it possibly be? She flopped back down against her pillow. In the morning she'd go to the Opera House to talk to the managers to find out where they had traveled to….she had to find out….