A Show of Malevolent Powers

"Raaaagghhh!"

A scream enveloped the entire court, and it silenced the commotion ringing all around us like a ringing snap that signifies the arrival of the incarnation of evil.

However, there was no need to sound the trumpets of the apocalypse, for the devil had long been here, and he's wearing a crimson suit and a grotesque mask. He's here, and he's craving for death.

And I am his loyal servant.

The metallic door swung open like a rusted gong while the creaking of it as it swiftly opened almost sounded like a brass bell that had a few cracks on the side. It was a rather bizarre noise, but it sure had a rather specific sound. The sound of the man who was screaming as he ran towards us felt even more obnoxious, for it sounded like a dying pig in a penthouse.

"You!" The man who came from within the metallic door screamed at the top of his lungs! "You're the one who killed my daughter! You're the one that ruined our lives!"

He was running at a rather slow pace but that was probably caused by his rather plum size and the mechanism he's carrying, which worried me more than the distorted expression he has on his face.

The man was wearing a messy black coat that had multiple holes and scratches on it; below the jacket was a sleeveless shirt blackened by an abundant amount of dirt and grease. He was wearing a dark brown leather shoe on his left foot with its front flapping like the mouth of Pac Man, for it had been worn and used for so long that it had already been filled with all sorts of holes, folds, cracks, and tears. He was not wearing anything on his right foot, so I could see the scars all over his skin, the grease on his long fingernails, and the absolute pungent smell of it although he was still a few meters away from us. This greasy old sleazebag was also wearing black jogging pants that I had never seen him wear before. It had a yellow line on its side, and it isn't as dirty as most of his clothes are, but since the man himself was a living dirt magnet, I am not afraid to conclude that those jogging pants of his have got to be the dirtiest pair that had ever graced this court.

"I will kill you! I will burn your Caravan! I will kill you all!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, which sounded like a saw scraping the top of a log. His reddened eyes were bulging out of anger; we could see his yellow and black teeth, for he had opened his large and thick mouth to scream. His face has all sorts of sagging wrinkles, abnormally large and reddened pimples, brownish dirt, blackened warts with small holes, fresh scars, and probably some rat bites on it too somewhere there. I couldn't see his body well, for it is well covered with what remains of his tattered clothes. Still, I'm sure it's filled with all sorts of different skin complexions that would make even the most celebrated dermatologist of our century surrender.

I got all of this just by staring at him for a few seconds. Of course, I will know all of this; how can I not?

I've known this man since I was young. I've gone to the same school as this man. I've played the same games as this man. I've loved the same woman he had loved. I've learned who I am with this man. I've learned how to live because of this man. And I also learned what it means to be dead while breathing and walking and eating and sleeping and living because of this man.

Of course, I know this man.

I just met him today before I even stepped foot inside my door. I bought my white plague doctor mask with him, although he wasn't stable the entire time he was with me. He's always been spouting about his knowledge about the existence of the Caravan for years! And I'm there, listening to him.

I know this man.

He's George.

He's my best friend.

I have been looking after him for so many years after the death of his child.

The Ringmaster chuckled after seeing the bloodcurdling screams of the man along with his disgusting face. "He's here, little Tim." The Ringmaster then tightened his grip on my waist. "Are you gonna back out now?"

I gulped down my saliva. "Can I ask a favor, Ringmaster?"

"I'll see what I can do." The Ringmaster whispered with his hands, caressing my waist.

I smiled at him as sweetly as I can, and for some reason, the only person I could hear is the Ringmaster. Not Veronica's chant, not the people's cheers, and certainly not George's screams. "Can you give me the dullest ax you have?" I can only hear the sound of Ringmaster's breath, the sound of Ringmaster's heartbeat, and the sound of Ringmaster's voice.

I could visibly see the corners of the Ringmaster's lips perking up as high as it can; if it were possible for a person to smile from ear to ear, then he would do it. I could imagine his eyes forming the shape of a thin crescent moon as he smiled at me with utmost joy.

"Of course," and without further ado, he handed me an ax that was probably around 3 feet tall with rust worse than the ones on the metallic door from whence George came. It looked so dull that I could feel the dusty specks on the surface of its bit.

I looked at the Ringmaster's mask as though I could see whatever it was hiding as I pierced my gaze on it to stare at his eyes with nothing but longingness. "Thank you," I whispered as low as I could while I held the ax with both my hands as I tried to stare at his eyes though I could only see his mask.

"You're very much welcome..." The Ringmaster chuckled as he raised his hand swiftly, pointing his palm towards the direction of the wrathful George. "... my little Timothy."

I suddenly heard a loud thudding noise, which also marked the end of Veronica's chant, but I am not sure if it was deliberate. I slowly moved my head towards the direction of the noise and saw George two to three meters away from us with his hands wide open like he was about to give both of us a bear hug. However, with the way his eye socket twitched abnormally, the way he bit his dried up lower lip, and the way the space between his eyebrows crumpled into different tiny folds showed that he was not about to give us a warm hug. I noticed, too, that the metal mechanism that George was carrying was already on the ground, which means that the loud thudding noise I heard earlier was because George dropped whatever it is he had in his hands down onto the ground.

"I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to kill you the same way you fucking killed my daughter!" George yelled while he stood there, motionless. He had the determination of a vengeful spirit on his facial expression, but his body was not moving at all.

"Kill me?" The Ringmaster whispered. "How, pray tell, can you kill me if you're not even moving?"

George gasped, with his eyes wide open. He then looked below him, and he finally realized that though his feet are moving in a running motion, he was not at all moving forward. It looked like he was using a treadmill, but instead, he was only grinding the soles of his shoes on the ground.

"What are you doing!?" George asked in his usual anger-filled scream.

"Please, I will explain," The Ringmaster intoned while he pulled me towards his chest, hiding my arms from George's sight, which means that this gesture of his also hid whatever it was I holding. "But you need to calm down first."

"No, I will not fucking calm down! I'm going to fuck you up! I'm going to fucking burn you to death!" George said, still making his running motion, but as usual, it was all in vain, for he is not moving forward at all.

I see. What I am viewing is one of the Ringmaster's fantastic tricks that makes him a man above men. You see, he has this ability, one that I could not explain, but it is something he is demonstrating at the moment, for stupid George right here fell into it.

An invisible force that looked like a barrier of some sort was pushing George backward; thus, he is moving his feet as if he was running towards us but he's only stuck in the same position. Now, usually, if the Ringmaster uses this ability on other people, it would blast them a few inches away from where the barrier is. Sometimes, it would even launch someone's body a few meters away if the Ringmaster was feeling more assertive that way. Clearly, he's using a weaker version of this invisible barrier-blast thing of his. However, that's not the end of it. He's also using the same ability to put a barrier behind George, which ensures that the wall in front of him would not blat him away even for a few centimeters. Knowing this detail means then that two invisible forces are sandwiching George, and it might hurt, but he's probably too angry to care about his broken bones though I cannot explain how his feet are moving. Oh well, why am I even thinking about it? I do not even understand it fully; how could I even dream of explaining it? All I know is that, although George is running, he's not at all moving, and if he won't stop doing his futile actions, then it would only cause him more harm than good.

The Ringmaster gasped. "Burn me to death?" He then said as if he was shocked at George's revelation.

"Yeah, you little deaf shit! I will burn you till you're just a little shit stain on the floor!"

"Is that what that is?" The Ringmaster said while pointing his chin at the mechanism on the floor. "Is that what that flamethrower is for?"

Huh. So that mechanism that George was carrying is a flamethrower.

"Oh, yeah, it is!" George then laughed; he laughed as loud as it can, and his booming voice resonated throughout the court like a giant hammer striking the ground. "I've waited so long for this moment to happen, and my arms are fucking begging me to use it!"

The Ringmaster then scoffed; I guess it is finally time for him to stop acting. "It's your turn, little Tim." He whispered as he kissed my forehead. Now that I stood beside him this close with a levelheaded mind, I finally realized that he's much taller than me.

"Yes, Ringmaster." I whimpered at him with a whisper.