Raining Fire

I didn't do well at school. There weren't many options open to me when I left.

I was in good shape. A dancer's body. Muscular and able to go on for an age. I could dance no matter how high the heat, but I was a bit nervous in front of others. I could twist myself into unimaginable knots, hold myself up with just one hand, and I was brilliant at acrobatics. I did not, however, think that I would find my calling with that. Then again, all my father did was stand outside a carnival and advertise it with his voice.  The carnival travelled a lot, so when I saw it come to town, I would go to it just to see my father, and there was a big top circus in among the lot.

I auditioned on a whim. I needed money, and I had my father's backing, so I danced. They liked my act. It was a dance I had practised many times before, and so one I had little chance of getting wrong. It had been a routine I had envisioned when younger and had honed to the point of perfection, and they liked it, and then all that remained was to bid my mother goodbye, looking like an excited little kid.

I needed a good costume, and in my wardrobe I had a white shirt with a pink band. The pink band had white stars on it. If I wore that with blue shorts, it would be okay to start with. We all lived in motor homes, but mine needed to be driven by a colleague as I did not yet have a licence. I fell asleep with some difficulty that first night, as everything got packed away, ready to move on to the next venue. There was too much noise and the strange bed was uncomfortable. Eventually I managed to drop off. I dreamed. Of what, exactly, I am not sure. Of dolls. Rag dolls in little green shirts with terrifying grins. I woke with a start, unsure of what all that had been about, and went to my door. We were moving, so I got dressed and watched the world pass by the window. It rushed past in a blur of colour and beauty.

I was practising by the time we stopped. It was all fine. I could easily cling to something should the road take a sudden twist or jolt, and then we slowed and eventually stopped. I did not know anyone here as of yet, so was nervous to meet them. I did not hear the door open. I was not even aware anyone would care to come in. "That cannot be healthy."
I dropped my foot, letting it fall to a more normal-looking position. "It doesn't bother me."
"Contortionist?" Asked the redheaded girl at my door.
"I guess. I do dancing."
"I play with fire." She smirked, stepping in. "You're new to the company then. Haven't seen someone like you in a while. I'm Anna."
"Peter."
"Nice to meet you, Peter." She gave a curtsey and offered her hand. When I accepted it, she pulled me to my feet as well as shaking my hand. Anna was extra friendly, and grinning widely. She stuck close to me, being a good friend, and I made a few other friends as well. Amos, Cyrus and Dudley. We were roughly the same age, but Anna and I were younger than the other three.

I found my time in front of the audience a thrill. Rushes of adrenaline. I was always scared stiff behind the curtain, watching the act before me do her stuff...Anna was beautiful in her make-up and glittering leotard as she blows fire like the breath of a diamond dragon. Then she walks towards me, gemstone cape fluttering behind her, looking like a masterful angel, and I step aside to allow her through. She wishes me luck, and I smile, my heart fluttering. Nerves. I hear the big top ringleader call to the audience, introducing me with a silly name that I doubt took much thought. Plastic Peter. I raise my hands above my head, ready for my entrance, ready for spilling straight into the acrobatics, waiting for the right beat of the music. I have practised and performed this many times. I know what I'm doing all too well, and a smile slowly spreads across my face, and in I flow, as if by second nature. The nerves fade, and I feel good.

As time went on, I grew closer to Anna. We became an item, I guess. One day, when camping by a lake, well into the deepest reaches of our relationship, we stood at the edge of the lake, skimming stones, talking and laughing. I won't bother going into details with our relationship, but let us just say by this point we shared a bed. I was twisting my whole trunk around to wind up my launch, and she was laughing at me as I went. We weren't in costume. She was in a summer dress, and it was a warm night, and I wore a tank top and trousers. I was barefoot, feeling the soft, wet grass between my toes.
"Peter?"
"Mmm?"
"You ever made a wish upon a star?"
I looked up at the sky curiously. "Not since I was especially little."
"I always do. It's like a piece of childlike magic that's always stuck with me."
"And does it work?"
"Sometimes."
I looked at her, arching an eyebrow.
"Well, it's brought me things I've wished for. Better purpose, someone to love...you."
"Are those all the same thing...?"
She laughed, punching my arm playfully. I smiled, keeping my eyes trained on the moon and let her talk on, almost missing the point at which she casually dropped the P word into the conversation.
"Wait a second." I said, holding up a hand and waving it as though waving her off. "Backtrack a second. What was that about being pregnant?"
She bit her lip, shuffling her foot. "Well, pretty much the one word sums it up, Peter."
Uncertainly, I put a hand on her belly. She laughed.
"There you go, at least you can get it through your thick skull." Laughing, she knocked on my head and I stumbled away, scowling.

I was the amazing Peter Merkel. I could bend myself into unimaginable shapes, all fast and to the beat of the music. I looked like a break dancer, except with joints that bent in all directions, and with ballet moves, standing on my chest, leaping through the air...There were posters about me. I was one of the great acts. The man's favourite. I guess a bit of a freak.

And then I had a son. I named him Stanley. In the darkness, we slept. I slept peacefully the night everything started going downhill. It was a normal night, until Anna started shaking me awake. "Peter! Wake up! Wake up, Peter!"
I gave a whine and tried to push her away, but I was awake now, so it didn't matter.
"Peter, something's on fire!"
I mumbled something, half asleep, before that information set in and I pushed myself up.

I ran out of my little mobile home in my dressing gown, Anna following in hers with our child in her arms. The tent equipment was on fire, and it was expensive. I had this sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched it all burn, not really able to do anything myself.

The expense? Too much to afford straight off. The best they could do was try and rake in as much as possible with the stalls, and soon people were being laid off. Losing a job that changed my life so immensely hit me hard, and not to mention suddenly losing that safe home and having no income. I mean, where did that leave me? I'll tell you where, on the streets, sleeping under cardboard. Then one day, one unusual day...I found my way to claw my way back up, to face going back to Anna and Stan. That was when I saw an untouched barrel of a hundred little rag dolls, quite, quite large. They all had tan skin and the same green button eyes, and the same cloth triangle nose, and the same grey-green trousers, and the same forest-green jumper. No-one was interested in them, nobody but me. Me, who genuinely believed I could pass myself off as one of them.

And let me tell you, when the Rag Doll in that over successful store came free, he slunk down the stairs, to where they kept the money, and even before the cameras, they saw a Rag Doll rob them blind.

And then the doors opened once more. Anna, money, comfort...everything.