Someone was playing the accordion. A rowdy crowd cheered from the stands. Templeton Cavanagh and Colin were in the center ring. Colin was a kangaroo, Templeton a circus ringleader. They circled each other. Both wore boxing gloves and their dukes were up. Bara was off to the side. She wore a pink baby doll dress with puffy sleeves. The dress was too much, or rather too little. She wanted to change, but when she turned to go, the crowd—the Pops, the Goths, and the other girls of St Cat—roared with amusement. They were laughing at the frilly underpants that went with the dress. Bara backed up against a brightly-painted barrel. She jumped up and sat down to shield her rear-end. Her long legs dangled. She looked down on pink bobby socks and pink Mary Jane’s. Yuck! Why was she dressed this way? She hated pink.

Amy entered the ring. The crowd roared its approval. The cheers were deafening. No one had dressed Amy like a baby. She wore her school uniform, but instead of the customary tights, she had on fishnet stockings over neon fuchsia leggings. On her feet were black military boots with enormous heels. Her long black hair was shellacked into a purple-tinted Mohawk. With the combined height of the shoes and her hair, she stood even taller than Colin. Flowers flew through the air. Amy picked up a red rose and clenched it between her teeth. She danced a mix between the Mexican hat dance and the twist. She finished up and threw the flower into the crowd. Drusilla caught it and swooned. Amy then crossed the ring in a single bound and handed Bara a large silver bell and spoon.

“Rock n’ roll!” she hooted, made the sign of heavy metal horns, and stuck out her tongue. Metal music streamed in from unseen speakers. Amy played an air guitar concert. The crowd couldn’t get enough. They went wild. Bara thought maybe she’d enjoy some crowd adoration. She jumped down with her mind on a duet, but everyone laughed at her frilly underpants again. She scooted back on top of her platform. Amy finished her solo. The crowd jumped to their feet and shouted encore. Amy threw her hands into the air. “Thank you, Windfall!” she hollered. The applause followed long after as she’d loped out of the ring.

Everyone then turned to Bara. They looked at her like she’d picked her nose in public. It was as if she were in a play and had forgotten her lines. She lifted her hands and shoulders in a sign of helplessness. “The bell, stupid!” Louise shouted. “Ring the bell!” Of course. Bara raised the large silver spoon and bell above her head and clanged them together. The fight began.

Her father went on the offensive first. He snapped his lion tamer’s whip and connected with Colin’s humongous kangaroo feet. Colin leaped around the ring trying to avoid the lash. He aimed a kick. The older man easily avoided the impact. Colin fell on his backside. He struggled like an upturned beetle-kangaroo, legs moving frantically in the air. Templeton waved his arms in front of him and got the audience involved. They jeered and threw things—rotten fruit and insults. Colin tried again and again but couldn’t right himself.

With the whip between his teeth, Templeton threw his boxing gloves to the ground. He tore open his shirt. The crowd chanted Cavanagh! Cavanagh! Cavanagh! He went to one side of the ring and put his hand to his ear. The chant grew louder. He crossed the ring again and repeated the action. The crowd grew positively frantic with bloodthirsty excitement. It was clear what side they were on, the side of blood-shed.

Somehow Colin returned to his feet. He saw the murderous glint in his opponent’s eyes. He heard the bloodlust in the crowd’s chant. The musty scent of fear rose from his kangaroo coat. Fight or Flight? Colin chose flight. He headed for the edge of the ring, managing it in two hops. On the third. he bounded for freedom, but the ring had other ideas. He collided midair with an invisible wall, was thrown back, and again landed on his backside. Templeton Cavanagh approached, whip now in hand. Bara didn’t know what to do. She had to help Colin. She still held the bell and spoon. Of course, end the round.

She rang the bell. The fighting stopped. The bell’s echo died and her father dropped his head. He shook and began to transform, shrinking in width, except at the shoulders, and growing in height. He lifted his head and his face came into view again. He’d grown young. His grey hair was now dark, thick, and wavy. Templeton Cavanagh was gone. A teenage boy stood in his place. He had the most beautiful blue eyes. The dark-haired boy. He looked down at the whip and grew disgusted. He threw it to the ground.

No more a kangaroo, Colin had changed too. He was human again. He stood the taller of two boys but still had to grow into his height. The dark-haired boy owned every inch of his. But really, it didn’t matter what Colin looked like. Since the other boy had appeared, Bara hadn’t glanced his way. Colin was filled with rage. He bent down and grabbed the whip. His arm rose and fell with a crack. The dark-haired boy’s light cotton shirt was sliced through. A thin line of red formed on his bared skin. Colin raised the whip again. Bara reached out and pulled on his arm. The whip flew from his hand and landed just outside of the ring. The dark-haired boy looked at her with obvious meaning and fled. Unlike Colin, he had no difficulty leaving the ring. The force field disappeared and he was gone.

“How could you?” Colin accused of Bara. “After all we’ve been to each other.” Colin went for the whip again.

Bara fled the ring and left the circus tent. Her heart caught in her throat. She was back in the woods. The circus tent was in a clearing, meters from the maze.

Not again! She felt like dropping to the ground and throwing a good, old-fashioned temper tantrum. It would have been appropriate. She still wore the baby doll dress, but there were rushing feet behind her. It was Colin. Anxious to find the dark-haired boy before he did, she entered the hedges.

She turned but one corner and there she was—the little girl from her dream two nights before. The doppelgänger. She wore the same red pea-coat and beret and the same heart-shaped glasses. The little girl reached up and put a finger to Bara’s mouth. “Shush!” she said sharply. A scream faded to a whimper. The doppelgänger gestured her head toward the maze. She ran inside. What else could Bara do? She followed. No more than a dozen turns and they were at the cottage. Vines and moss covered the stonework and reached up to the clock tower. The doppelgänger stood at the door for a second and then began running again. Bara continued to follow.

She rounded to the back and immediately wished she’d stayed in the clearing. There were three graves, each with a cross. Two small wooden crosses flanked a larger metal one. In the moonlight, the trio cast long shadows over the graves they guarded. Upon the center mound was the doppelgänger. She gave a toothy grin and dissolved to mist. If Bara had been thinking clearly, she’d have made a brisk retreat. Instead she crossed to the graves.

A strange desire gripped her, to dig up whatever lay beneath the iron cross, but then fear overwhelmed desire. Her neck hair stood up on end. Someone or something was watching. She turned toward the cottage. Through the one and only window Courtney Cavanagh stared back. It was just for a second and then the window went black. Her stepmother was gone, but the terror of the dream only grew. There was a banging now, coming from the grave below, shaking the earth with its strength. Something was trying to unearth itself. A plump hand reached up through the dirt, grabbed hold of her ankle, and pulled.

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Words and Images are my own.

Beast With No Face is published in Monsters, Avatars & Angels. Just How Many Butterflies is published Tattoo.

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