A Proclamation of Difference

I know that smile. It means if I even dare refuse this offer, then this man can always improvise his way out of it and tell everyone that I will be the next sacrifice.

I leaned my head towards the Ringmaster to let my lips touch his ear as close as I could get. "I love you so much, Ringmaster."

The Ringmaster's grin widened, and for some reason, I could see his eyes creating the shape of a crescent moon to show me what a good boy I am for saying those words. "Good job, little Tim."

I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel what it looked like, I could see the outline of it behind his ornamented mask, and I could see his green eyes piercing through my soul as I gaze at him with my breath hitting his skin.

"Let us begin this year's main event!" The Ringmaster muttered, so I'm the only one to hear his voice. "Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen!?"

Every man and woman from the crowd cheered, screamed, and hollered after hearing what the Ringmaster had said. Everyone had this twisted smile on their face as if they were all unwilling to even perk their lips upward even for a centimeter. Their eyes were deep and dark like it was hiding a sunken melancholy that they allowed none of them to utter. They were all yelling thoughts that indicated their glee and the playfulness of what they were feeling, but for some reason, I could detect a hint of hesitation in the tone of their voice.

They were smiling. Every person around us was screaming with their happy feelings. They were looking at us with excitement.

However, n

It felt as if they were serving us an artificial form of happiness forcefully tucked on their heads, and now they all wish to scream and agonize and cry and protest and leave and die, but none of them could do so, for they are all wired and programmed to feel happy.

None of them are happy; I know that much.

I, however, feel...

Very.

"I would like to call Miss Veronica on the ring to sing our chant to welcome our lamb!"

Very.

"What I have in my hands right now is the keys throughout this entire city, and all the doors and gates around you are all locked just in case one might want to leave before our greatest attraction even started!"

Very.

"I know that you all wanted and begged for the entire year to buy the product you so desire for so long, but I have closed the Caravan at the moment, and the only way for it to open is if I use my key!"

Very.

"As you can all see, I am standing here right in front of the grand gate of our dreamland. The place where our pilgrims go with the intent to pass through the barrier between life and death. To refresh the memory of some of you, I would like to reiterate that Timmy boy right here didn't do his schemes for this year properly, so now, he will be the leader of this year's sacrifice!"

Very.

"You like that, Timmy?"

Happy!

"Yes!" I screamed as hard as I could, and everyone in the audience started to laugh together with their mouths stretched wide open to form a smile that looks like the smile I see from the mannequins on cheap department stores.

No, it's not just their smiles.

They are mannequins. They are all mannequins that have a voice, that has a unique tone, that has emotion, but I could only see whatever feeling their plastic shell was showing. They are all mannequins that stood there to showcase their nouveau riche fashion that mirrors their opulent lifestyle, or at least; it reflects the wealthy golden life they wanted to project to the world. They are all mannequins that have a loudspeaker inside them that conveys their emotions. Still, they could only show whatever carvings they were given on their faces as they showcase their extravagant, opulent, masquerade ball realness.

I realized that Veronica was already standing beside me, but she didn't have the same mannequin-like smile that other people from the audience had. She was standing there with a graceful smile while she faced me, and only then did I realize that she was holding a large mirror. With her posture and the way she looked at me mockingly with that brown eyes of his and her shiny pink lips, I knew what she intended to do by pointing the mirror at me.

"You look so f*cking ugly right now, dude." She intoned with a chuckle.

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a deranged smile all over my face; it was the face of a man who felt nothing but real pleasure, real happiness, real lust, and real feelings. The smile I had on my face is just as genuine as the smile painted all over Veronica's face.

"I'm so proud of you." The Ringmaster whispered ever so silently to my ear with his hands on my waist. Though everyone was screaming and cheering and jeering and fearing whatever will happen next, I could still hear him clearly as if his words were the only sound that could ever enter my ears.

"We are so much different from them, aren't we?" Veronica said with the usual twinkle of gleaming joy all over her face as she leered at the Ringmaster and me. She doesn't seem to know that the Ringmaster whispered something to me as she continued, "They are here to buy, but we are here to enjoy the spectacle."

Without further ado, Veronica then began singing the songs she always sings before the start of every sacrificial ritual we perform on the stone ring of the Ringmaster. It was a language I have not heard of before, but it was something that felt somewhat nostalgic like I have always heard it, but I just forgot about its existence. Veronica continued to chant the slow and mellow song that almost felt like she meant to sing it to honor the dead. Though knowing what will happen next, I'm sure it was not at all a gesture to honor any blood that we will spill today. 

Suddenly, a metallic, rusty, smelly, gray door appeared in front of me without my knowledge as if it was there all along, but I never saw it until now.

By the time I acknowledged the presence of the door before I, the sound of drums echoed throughout the atmosphere with a tempo and rhythm similar to that of the drums I would often hear when I see a marching band. Yes, it is not just identical; it is the sound of a marching percussion. The beat followed the soft rhythm of Veronica's chant, which is oddly stimulating, for the combination of both was enough to boil my blood and to heighten the speed of my beating heart. 

The audience kept their loud and obnoxious shootings, but although they were all visibly shouting from the top of their lungs, I can only hear a distant whisper coming from them. Oddly enough, the soft and mellow chanting of Veronica was louder than any noise that anyone could ever produce as if the presence of her voice were following our every move wherever we might go. Following her voice was the sound of the accompanying marching percussion that traveled throughout the court with the sound of the melancholic chant like a loyal mutt, wagging its tail. It felt as if Veronica's voice were her soul, and her soul was walking and dancing throughout the air with her pet dog while her black dress sent poison down our hearts.

Funny enough, I would typically escape this place, and I could now for the Ringmaster's grip on my waist was not at all tight anymore. It was rather gentle and kind like he was cheering me on before my big moment. Standing here with him in front of countless people who came to enjoy the crimson-colored spectacle he would bring once again this year felt oddly nostalgic. It felt like déjà vu like I've just been in this place before, at this time, in this very position. I felt like I have already seen all of this before. It was the same copy of that moment in a time that never existed. It felt oddly nostalgic like it was a carbon copy of what I had experienced when I was naught, but a boy and the Ringmaster were there beside me to lay all his love on me. It felt like something I had experienced for a long time over and over again, but it is an experience that never happened.

And before I knew it, the metal door before me slowly creaked open.