At first the small circus run by the Showenhower family barely made enough to call their earnings a profit. Sometimes they had just enough to feed themselves, but the love of the show was enough.
Well until the curse started. It wasn't really a curse just a series of accidents and unlucky days. But enough bad days in a row and people start to get ideas.
One day the horses got lose and then once they were rounded up the permits and papers for said horses had vanished. They lost a whole act when they lost those horses.
Then a huge storm came through after a show and nearly washed away the entire circus downstream.
Performers would get sick right before a bog show. Bad weather would keep the audiences away. Everything that could go wrong did one way or another.
Eventually it got to the point where even the audience wasn't having fun.
Shows didn't sell, performers started to leave, events had to be canceled, something needed to be done.
They were down in New Orleans trying to find new acts when an idea stuck them when passing an old fortune teller's booth.
Who said the performers needed to be alive?