"What did you say your Act was?"

"Huh?" Dace's vision came back into focus as she blinked several times at the squat woman in front of her. This place smelled of leather and dust; reminding her of the uncomfortable waiting rooms she'd frequented as a child. 

"Your Act. You have to have an Act to ride the train. Or at least a skill we can make use of." The woman wore a glare that was somewhere between boredom and frustration, her blazer clad torso was practically slumped over her desk and even her jade green dreadlocks seemed somewhat sad and lifeless. To Dace this seemed remarkably odd; the man in the queue behind her had two heads that were debating rather loudly over whether a tax on plastic bags would serve to lessen the effects of pollution or were simply an annoyance. As one head began to lick the other in disagreement with an eight inch indigo tongue, Dace decided that the disinterest in the woman's eyes was applause worthy.

"Dear lord, you're not a dancer, are you?" The woman moaned, pulling back Dace's attention, "we've got dancers coming out of our ears on this train. Could feed the bloody lions for a year with the number of dancers we've got."

Dace looked down at herself, at the body she'd been meaning to get into shape for the past three years but hadn't, at the pair of thick, towering legs beneath her scruffy old jeans and the size nine feet shuffling about the wooden flooring. "I'm not a dancer."

"So what are you?" The woman's tone grew impatient as she straightened herself upright. Only then did Dace see the red branding around her neck, like a collar made of scar tissue.

"Do I have to be anything?" Dace stuttered jokily as she took a step back. "What happened to being myself?"

"Being yourself won't keep the circus running, girl. If you don't have anything to offer then why are you here?"

The train's carriage trembled as Dace contemplated this, her rich brown features twisting into a frown. Why was she here? No journey sprung to her memory, nor any burning desire to queue up and speak with this sunshine of a lady. In fact Dace's first clear recollection beyond leaving the house that morning was the woman's initial question. Everything between these two events felt murky and surreal; like trying to see through swamp water.

"I needed to get away from something." She found herself saying with a frown. Whether this was the truth or not was impossible to know.

"Well, hopefully it wasn't animal dung, dear, because that's exactly what you're in for." The woman began to scrawl something down on an official looking document before thrusting a small card in Dace's direction. "This is your ID card. Dace Livigin, shit-scooper. Have fun."

"What?" Dace laughed shakily, accepting the card, "I'm not here to clean up animal mess! I'm here to... to..." For a sliver of a moment the reason had been crystal clear in her head, the memory of someone calling out her name was like a shout from across the room, but the moment she opened her mouth it was flushed out and scattered into the stifling air of the woman's reception-like carriage.

"The cages are ten doors down," The woman held out a clawed hand to the door opposite them. "Go before I change my mind and have you thrown off."

As her blue eyes flashed bloody crimson Dace flinched away with an uncharacteristic squeak before scurrying out the door, pushing the two headed man aside in the process.

The corridor was painfully narrow. Dace had to turn sideways in places as she passed several rooms along the train obscured from her view by unpainted wooden doors and delicate silk curtains. From behind them she heard roars of laughter, the rush of chatter, and even the sound of one woman's shrill, tortured screams.

Shaking, Dace quickened her pace until the cries faded out only to be replaced by the wafting of animal faeces. The smell was almost a physical barrier; the stench of digested meat and sewage amplified by the stifling heat of the beasts' cages.

Dace pushed open the curtains to reveal a space that stretched the length of an entire carriage; a cramped hall lined with rigid metal bars. Hot on the heels of that godawful stench, the purrs and whinnies and growls of the beasts around Dace melted into one as she stepped forward into the straw-littered carriage, keeping a slow pace as she took in the menagerie that raised their heads and regarded her entrance with casual interest.

Only as she stared into the deep, jewel like eyes of an African elephant did she realise that she had absolutely no idea what the bloody hell she was doing. The creature looked almost as bored as woman who had assigned it Dace for company; it stood nonchalantly in the corner of its metal-barred cage flicking its creased silver trunk back and forth as it gazed wearily down at her. The space was hardly stifling, and there were three full buckets of water lined up before it, but nevertheless Dace couldn't blame the beast for feeling discontent. She was not the only one aboard this train lacking the element of control; held back by others' orders for unbeknownst reasons. Since when was it even legal to keep live animals in circuses?

"Hiya, Nelly." She crept to the edge of the cage, and gave the beautiful creature a weak smile before sticking her hand through the bars and praying to God that it was friendly. "I'm supposed to take care of you. Not entirely sure why. I'm beginning to wonder if this is just a really bad dream, or an acid trip or something. Not that I ever recall doing drugs, or even being within a fifty metre radius of them, but I suppose you can never be too careful. My mum used to tell me that I only had to look at a joint in order to get ill. That would hardly be the most surprising thing I've learned today. And I'm talking to an elephant, for God's sake, I must be on something..."

For a while Dace stood there patting the elephant, feeling the shudder of the train down its tracks beneath her feet. Eventually she began to hum to the rhythm of the tremors, and as the elephant stared down at her, intrigued, the low buzz evolved into the rural ditty Dace's father used to rock her to sleep with.

Wolfie, wolfie, let me in

So we can fight past all your sin

Wolfie, wolfie, take my hand

So you may turn from beast to man.

The creak of footsteps on the unstable wooden floor made her turn around before she could start on the second verse. The back of another woman was visible; from the lithe way she sprung up on her toes to reach the bucket high on a shelf Dace assumed she was fairly young.

"Excuse me," Dace began, "could I ask you something?"

The girl spun around to face her and Dace almost did a double take. How could she not at the sight of a beard sprouting from the girl's face? It was the same fluffy honey blonde as her hair, lovingly plaited into an intricate braid and bound with silk ribbon. Her plump lips seemed to bend towards one word, something formed of excitement, but she changed her mind and bit down her jaw and cleared her throat before replying.

"You may." Dace was almost surprised when her voice came out high and sweet, like a bell's tinkling.

"I... ah..." Dace tried to get a hold of herself: she was not the sort of girl who often stared gormlessly at unusual things. Even so, all previous questions had dissolved from her tongue at the sight of the beard.

"Right." The girl slumped to one side, a hand on her hip. "The elephant in the room. And not that one." She pointed at the tusked beast, which seemed to shoot her a weary glare in response. "I do enjoy that we have an elephant so that joke is possible. Anyway, the beard."

"Yeah..?" Dace's chestnut eyes grew wide.

"I rejected the advances of a talented magician's apprentice." The girl dug around in the bucket and threw a handful of vibrant gold mango chunks in to the elephant.

"A magician's apprentice?" Dace brushed back her dense dark curls, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

"I know! He wasn't even a real magician! Don't know why he was so sure I'd say yes to him." The bearded girl upturned the now empty tin bucket and used it as a stool, leaning forward casually as if she and Dace were old friends. "I turned him down and rage swept his soul; inciting the curse of this delightful beard. He couldn't have me, so he made it so no other would want me." Her slender fingers brushed over the braid, and Dace caught the barely suppressed irritation in her voice.

"Huh. Dick move." How else was she supposed to respond?

"Yes. I'm quite used to it now, though." The girl pulled her lips back into a dainty smile. She was actually very pretty, Dace thought, even with the beard. Her eyes were large and rounded but otherwise her pale features were small and almost elfin.

Dace turned back to the elephant, which was nudging at her shoulder with its trunk through the bars.

"This is Athena," the bearded girl patted the creature's flank. "I think she likes you; she seems a lot calmer than usual."

"So... what's your name?" Dace focused on contorting her own features into a friendly beam. Sometimes she had trouble with first impressions. Her tendency to revert to a moody frown in the face of strangers wasn't exactly ideal for a girl who had grown up painfully lonely.

"It's Matt."

Dace shifted awkwardly. "Uh, Matt? So are you... would you rather I referred to you as, like, a guy..?"

"Huh?" Matt's pearly forehead creased. "Oh, no, I'm mostly a girl - Matt's short for Mathilda. I merely dislike long names."

"Well mine's Dace," She held out a hand, "So we should get along swimmingly."

"Dace," Matt shook it, and Dace tried not to wince as she felt the squelchy, sticky traces of mango beneath the girl's fingernails, "That's an unusual name. Does it mean something?"

It meant everything.

"No."

"Oh. You're new, aren't you? What's your Act?" Matt sprung up and brushed dirt from her trousers. It was then that Dace noted how strange her new friend's outfit was: a cotton dress shirt with puffed sleeves bound beneath a tight leather corset and jodhpurs. Not exactly the sort of thing you'd pick up in Hollister.

"Apparently, I don't have one." Dace sighed. "I'm supposed to be cleaning the animals' cages."

Matt looked horrified. "What? Who says?"

"The woman with the green dreadlocks at the reception..?"

"Joy must be in a bad mood again: there's no reason why you'd need to clear out the animals."

"Why not?"

"Because," Matt tilted her head to one side and bit her lip playfully. "This is a magic circus. They clean themselves."

The idea seemed utterly ridiculous; something a parent would condescendingly tell their child, but Dace had no time to reply before Matt's hand clamped around her wrist and she was pulled back down into another carriage.

"Anyway, if you're stuck mucking out the animals you'll miss tonight's show."

They moved through warm, candle-lit spaces down an ever-trembling path; Dace was reminded of the funhouse at the local fair, with its deliberately tight corridors and revolving walls. This train's interior felt different, though. The funhouse had been dressed gaudily with parts made deliberately for deconstruction; this modestly decorated train felt ancient and solid enough that not even a boulder crashing into its side could splinter the wooden walls.

It had a soul.

Dace was sure of that.

She was even surer that it was observing her as she squeezed down its limbs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So. Hi. Welcome.

Has the 'dark circus' story been hideously overdone?

Yep.

Will that stop me from writing one?

Nah.

SoS will be more episodic than other stuff I've got up on WP (shameless self promo right there, go read IKWYT if you want to know what to expect from my shitty writing. If you've read it--hi. Apologies again for the ending.) so each 'episode' will be three chapters.

Can't promise regular updates. There's these annoying things called A-Levels. I'll try not to leave long gaps of time between parts 1,2 and 3 of each 'episode' though.

Please let me know what you think b/c honestly comments are the best payment you can give a writer (aside from, you know, money, but you have to be a good writer for that, ha). The style of this is different from other things I've attempted, so if it comes across as too prose-y let me know.

What do people think of the characters so far? The setting?

Next chapter: The Red Ringleader

~Ellie/featherpunk

P.S - I might do a thing where there'll be a song for each chapter. They might fit *amazingly* for the theme of it, or there might be one line that I'm weirdly obsessed with. Chapter 1:1's song is That Green Gentleman by P!ATD - 'Things are shaping up to be pretty odd' .

P.P.S - So for the other story I have up on here I've found a few instances of people copying it very blatantly. If you're someone considering doing that... please don't. Not that I think for a minute my stuff is plagiarism worthy but, um, it's annoying AF so go write 1D fanfic or something.

P.P.P.S - I'll shut up now. I'll try not to write long-ass author's notes after every chapter.