"What are you doing?"

"Making a wish on a star."

"Well that's moronic."

"Why?"

"Because the light you are looking at is at least a million years old. The star you are 'wishing upon' is already dead... just like your dreams."

"Oh."

It was funny the things that Beowulf remembered as he died. He didn't remember his nearly perfect grades or the reputation he had built for himself, what he remembered was the people he had stepped on and the hearts he had broken. As the long forgotten conversation between himself and his sister resurrected itself in his dying mind, making his chest hurt more than the broken bones and gashes in his skin, he found himself looking toward the sky. It was an inky void of nothingness that seemed to extend into an endless eternity.

Beowulf couldn't even see the the stars let alone try and wish upon one of them. He was nearing the point in his desperate struggle for life that he was willing to try anything, even wish upon the ghost of a ball of light that didn't possess the capability to care.

It is often said a man's dying breaths expose who he truly is beneath the walls that life's waves had forced him to build up throughout his life, however in Beowulf's case it only exposed who he wanted to be.

Then it was over. There was no dramatic coughing or frantic gasps for air; Beowulf simply felt a release in his chest as his eyes finally lost their battle to stay open as darkness consumed him. He felt a heavy weight dragging his consciousness downward through his sea of regrets into into the eternal slumber of nothingness.

Beowulf Rose was a rose of many thorns but eventually all roses must bow to the cold winds of death.

He was no more.

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

From behind the tumbling skeleton of a wooden carnival stand trod a looming figure draped in a coat that seemed much darker than any of the shadows that seemed to cling to dance around it like flames. Without any particular haste the creature strolled toward the mangled corpse before it, gently leaning forward to caress the boy's cold shoulder. "You've been dead long enough, it's time to face your new reality."

And just like that Beowulf opened his eyes; not his actual eyes mind you, for they were far too stiff to budge, rather his blackened soul opened it's eyes and peeled itself from the corpse hauntingly. Confusion riddled the dim flickering outline of Beowulf who stared at his semi-transparent hands numbly. "What is this?" He demanded, his voice as arrogant as ever. The figure said nothing. It had collected souls before and by this point in it's ponderous infinity it had found that sometimes it was better to just let the spirits figure things out for themselves.

Beowulf looked downward at the corpse that he sat in. The skin had been deflated, covered now only in fluttering rags as if it had been absolutely nothing. His head was missing. "No!" The words left his mouth in a mixture of disbelief and fury. "Where the bloody hell is my head? God, I can't be dead... not yet." He trailed off as his eyes settled upon the looming figure beside him. A skull framed by like silk-white hair was the only thing visible beyond the many folds of her black cloak. "Put me back, please. You did it for Nima. I have to change, I don't want to die hated."

The skeleton-faced woman didn't move, instead she only tilted her head slightly. "I have lived a thousand years and I don't think people really change, they only pretend to."

Beowulf shook his head, "Maybe I actually was a good person and was simply pretending to be mean, either way I can prove you wrong."

"Even if I wanted to I couldn't. I am merely a reaper and your soul has already been claimed by the spirits that reside here who are much stronger than I." The woman said. Beowulf noticed the deep, timeless sadness that seemed to lace every word she spoke. "Every soul that has died here has actually been claimed by them."

Slowly Beowulf stood, reluctant to completely leave his body. "Wait, how can a soul be claimed?"

The reaper sigh taking Beowulf's hand. It was painfully cold, like sticking your freezing hand into steaming water. "Sometimes, certain beings will curse certain spirits to spend all eternity with them for whatever purposes they may have in mind. I'm not sure what it wants with you, however it is my job to provide you a bridge to your new afterlife."

Beowulf's heart should have been threatening to beat itself out of his chest, his forehead should have been sweating buckets, however there was nothing. The only thing that existed in Beowulf was deep dreading fear that settled itself over him like a cloud. He tried to promise himself that it wasn't over, that he was going to talk his way back into his body but for the first time ever he wasn't to convinced he could save himself.

"I don't want to force you to go before you are ready. Do you want to check in on your family? Or perhaps a lover?" The reaper voice trailed softly through the ominous silence that seemed to cloak them.

"I don't need to. I'm not dead. You're not dead until you give up and I am not one to surrender this easily." He straightened his shoulders and forced a lump of spit down his throat, staring into the deep pits of the reaper's eyes as bravely as he could.

"I wish it worked like that." Her voice sounded more ponderous than it had before as she melted away from him, morphing into the glimmering outline of silver steps that reached upwards into the heavens, the destination was obscured by the obsidian clouds.

Beowulf hesitated, throwing a glance over his shoulder at his mangled corpse. He remembered his reaction to Jessica's death, his mild happiness mixed with albit of apathy and felt painfully guilty. Jessica was just a bitch with no perspective and now her memory was only that of a girl that no one truly knew. Beowulf would not be remembered like that.

He placed his shoe on the first step slowly, but as he began to mount upwards through the stars each step became more purposeful as determination locked itself in his head. As the fair began to shrink away beneath him bright neon lights began to bleed through the clouds and faint, far off circus music began to tickle his ears.

The clouds began to part and a huge black and grey striped big top tent appeared before him, colorful lights dancing from within. A bit of awe mixed into the fear making his determination waiver for a second as he paused.

An all too familiar figure stepped from the big top, it's tall skeleton-like frame lumbering toward Beowulf. Even though he was dead he could still smell the decaying flesh that was falling from the demon clown's face and he was still rattled by the torn rags of his formerly cheerful clown suit. "Welcome to your new home, Beowulf." It smiled stitching the peeling paint upon it's face as it's long bony fingers curled around Beowulf's biceps. Beowulf felt himself involuntarily flinch. "Come on now, don't be scared, you're already dead. Nothing can be worse than death, can it?" The clown snickered as if it was sharing it's own private joke with itself.

Beowulf raised an eyebrow, glowering at the creature that had chased him through the hall of mirrors earlier. "I'm not scared, I'm not even dead! I need to speak to your leader, the one who cursed my soul."

The demon clown laughed, "Alright, if you wish."

Beowulf was not ready for what awaited him within the depths of the big top. He could have never been ready. No one could of.

Demons of every shape screamed and cheered from the grandstands throwing their arms in the air wildly. The inhuman noise alone was enough to make Beowulf cringe let alone what they were watching. With a growing dread he looked into ring where the spotlight shone upon none other than Jessica. She wore a sequined pink body suit and a matching feather plumed from her hair that was a dark scarlet from the blood that dripped from it. Her usually proud face was blotchy and streaked with makeup as she raised her hand in the air, facing a throne that stood at the very top of the grandstands and said, "Welcome to the circus!" Her voice cracked as she looked down at her feet. The platform gave way beneath her feet and she fell into a lighten clear tube full of some green liquid that seemed to eat her skin. He watched as she squirmed desperately trying to swim upwards only to be dragged downwards until she sunk below the stage.

Lights flooded the arena and Beowulf laid his eyes on what could only be described as hell.

A guillotine's blade chopped off Marlowe's head repetitively, each time the head would squirt blood, only to reattach itself seconds later for the ordeal to be repeated. A boy he didn't know lay naked on a table as a tall demon played surgeon, removing his innards and discarding the bloody humps of tissue on the ground. Another demon picked up the intestines and wrapped them around a boy's neck that he recognized as Chase. The demon pulled tight around his neck making the boy's face turn blue only to let it go long through for him to get a breath only to retighten it. Bella and Kai were locked within a cage with a massive tiger that mauled them, tearing them apart slowly.

Beowulf was dead and he still felt nausea wash over him as he pinched his eyes shut. "This is sick." He croaked as the creature shoved him toward the stands.

"To you it's sick, to us it is justice. Now move, you wanted to meet our queen, right?" He began to drag Beowulf through the grandstands full of demons. They screamed and hissed at him as he passed them. One reached forward and raked his leg with it's claws causing his blood to spill out, the demons only laughed and pointed as Beowulf was forced to limp faster to keep up with the clown demon.

Beowulf was lead to the throne upon which the shrivelled form of a little girl sat. She turned to look at him without much interest, unlike anyone else in here her grey skin was unblemished by decay and her hair was neatly done into two little pigtails. "Why is he here, Marvis? I'm trying to be entertained."

The clown demon didn't flinch at his ruler's harsh words. "He demanded to see you, I didn't see the harm in letting him."

The little girl stared at the clown coldly for a second before her bottomless pits for eyes turned to look at Beowulf. He felt his throat twist as her gaze burned into him. "Let me guess, you want to go back, don't you? Really it's not original." She sigh. "Do you even know why you're here?"

"I don't care." Beowulf said slowly forcing the words from his throat as if they were sap. "You just need to let me go."

"I don't care that you don't care. Stop whining and listen." The girl turned back to her entertainment but began to talk. "In the thirties carnivals were hardly supervised. They traveled across the nation hardly being supervised by anyone, I suppose it was understandable as everyone was preoccupied with the depression and not starving to death. I traveled with one. It wasn't my choice, I was born into it. The problem with my carnival is we couldn't leave. We were slaves. We were slaves to the stupid people like you who watched us joyously without a care in the world." She paused. "So I burned it down one night. I was young, I really didn't understand that I wasn't going to survive I just wasn't willing to watch everyone I loved be punished. Everyone died. The only thing that survived was the ferris wheel that was given to Brimley Carnival, hence my haunting. I think I am rather good at all of this haunting and revenge stuff, don't you?"

Beowulf felt an indignant snort choke its way from his throat. "Not really considering the fact you are killing people who have no connection to your miserable childhood. Let me go and I can spread your story so people understand you and we can prevent anything that horrible from happening again." He forced his voice to soften as the girl looked at him with an expression that he couldn't pinpoint.

"Never, once you enter the big top you are mine, it is just how it works." The little girl smiled almost innocently seeming out of place among the demons. "I might let someone else live though. You do have a point."

Beowulf felt his world begin to crumble once again as the reality began to crush him as a fire of frustrated fury and desperation at redemption overwhelmed him. "I will make your paradise a living hell for you, I will never stop fighting until you let me go back down there have my future that you stole. "

"Thats funny."

"Is it?"