A Foreboding Feeling of Euphoria

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't leave the spot I'm standing in at all.

I mean, I could do all of those, but if I do that, then that means...

"Oh my, it seems that little Mr. Timothy here is drooling quite a bit, isn't he?" The Ringmaster spoke in a rather sinister whisper that was loud enough for everyone to hear for some reason. "He's even sticking his tongue out. Oops! I think he's about to faint, ladies and gentlemen! Look at his eyes!" He then pulled me towards him and wrapped his other hand around my waist before facing me towards everyone who was looking at us. The ring then feels like a stone stage while the masked watchers all look down upon us in the upper box. "Look at it, ladies and gentlemen! His eyes are slowly moving upwards!" I could hear the laugh of all the surrounding people.

I can move. I can speak. I can leave the spot I'm standing in.

However...

... If I do all of those... then that means he would take his hands off me and push me away.

"Ywuuu shmell shoo goood." I mumbled as much as I can with his hands still grabbing my jaw.

He then touched his cheek on mine before whispering, "Then you better take one good whiff." I did. I inhaled as hard as I can as if my life depended on it, which elicited a thundering laugh from the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we all know Thomas! He's been with us for a long time! Longer than most of you! We can then say with great confidence that our brother, our dear friend Thomas right here is an exemplary member of our most sophisticated group of connoisseurs such as yourselves! Am I right, Thomas?"

"Yesh, Ringmashter." I mumbled while panting as I heard his question flowing from my ear down to every nook and cranny of my body.

"Perfect answer." The Ringmaster whispered to my ear still with his face glued on my cheeks, which tickled the side of my head in such a maddening fashion that I thought I was convulsing while I trembled with my eyes wide open. "We can all agree that there is no problem with Thomas as a part of our fellowship!" He then diverted his gaze at me while I felt his bloodshot eyes at me, although his mask covers the entirety of the upper part of his face. "I'm just disappointed with his..." Before he finished his statement, he tightened his grip around my waist as he slid his other hand from my jaws down to my torso. "... performance."

While the Ringmaster speaks with the same fervent enthusiasm he always has, I gaze at the people peering at us from high above the ivory balcony up ahead. I could see that although they're looking at us with the same admiration, they're only doing so because the Ringmaster is speaking. However, I could see with the way their eyes twitch and how their faces form a subtle scowl that they are all somehow mad. They are angry, crazy to bludgeon someone to death. They direct their deranged wrath at me, not because of what the Ringmaster is pointing out regarding my recent inadequacy. I wouldn't deny that I had been inarguably lacking for the past few years. No, that reason is not petty enough. They are all screaming at me with all the hate and fury within them because they are jealous of me, s

The boys, the girls, they all love the Ringmaster. The old and the young, the poor, and the rich, all of them want a piece of the Ringmaster's touch. They would swallow his spit if he so desires, and they would definitely do greater, grander things other than that too. One can see it in everyone's eyes; the way they gaze at him with eyes filled with longing and with mouths watering as their desires overflow them with an utter feeling of exquisite happiness.

None could explain why this is happening to them, none could understand the appeal of the Ringmaster, and none could tell why he drew people's attention towards him in a somewhat exaggerated sexual way. Sometimes, I even think that he has a form of erotic magnetism that pulls out the degradation of human lust. Nobody could explain the phenomenon that is the Ringmaster. Except for me. I know why we're all a slave to our passion for the Ringmaster.

After all, none of this is real.

The Ringmaster chuckled while he still had his hands tenderly but tightly wrapped around my body. He then turned around, which caused my body to swing along with him; this, in turn, is the reason why I am now facing his Caravan.

The Caravan is a marvel that still makes me gasp even after my long years of being with the Ringmaster's services, though until now, I'm also still unsure if it truly is a functional vehicle.

The Caravan itself is a black van with noticeable strips of degrading rusty portions all over its still steel shell. Well, to be more precise, it's actually the remnant of a van sawed crosswise without the entirety of its front where the driver's seat and the passenger seat should be. Heck, I could even see the bits of imperfections where the van was split away from its head; this caused a large hole to appear in front of the van's remains—filling the gap with large and thick layers of dark wood planks quickly remedied the problem, though. I could see by the way some nails were sticking out of the steel frame of the car that whoever repaired this van molded the planks into the shape of the hole, and then it was amateurishly connected using some rather long and thick nails that are now rusty and faded. They then smoothed out the planks with varnish and decorated it with many different compartments, small drawers, and a small wooden window at the very top. It also has a sculpted engraving on it of a skull sitting on a red spider lily. Below the van is its old rubber tire at the back, which was already flat to the brim with holes and tears. A thin wooden wagon wheel is in front, connected through a makeshift plank tightly attached to the van with a metallic, black hub, tightened by an iron axle.

Since the van, which is now called the Ringmaster's Caravan, or simply the Caravan, does not have an engine anymore, it is now impossible to drive it, let alone to have someone pull it; thus, the Ringmaster uses something instead. He utilizes his two black horses, with large white spots all over their bodies, and one dark brown draft horse to pull it whenever he travels throughout this dream-like realm he lives in and where we are right now.

There is nothing particularly weird with the horses; they are normal ones that I would often see in magazines and TV shows, with their elegant mane and sharp hooves with metallic horseshoes. The one I am more concerned about is the draft horse in the middle that the Ringmaster rode whenever he travels around, for his van already had so much of his products inside that it is impossible to fit himself within comfortably. Though there is nothing wrong with riding that absolute unit of a horse, I would still often wonder if it is safe to ride such a strong-looking animal. Its sturdy legs have nothing but muscle in them, and I'm not even surprised if someone would tell me that those legs have already trampled someone to death one way or another. Based on what I see, the draft horse is probably around 200 centimeters tall or so, and I'm not afraid to say that the horse has beaten me with the manliness it exudes. They braided its long silky hair around his head to mimic that of the hairstyle of the ancient Inca people, and the largeness of his body shows that it doesn't need the two horses around him, but here they are anyway.

"You see, Timothy..." The Ringmaster whispered to my ear, which made me groan in every syllable and every breath he would exhume to my ear. "... I like you. I don't want to dispatch you yet; that would be a waste of resources, don't you agree?" He whispers to my ear while rubbing his face at the back of my neck.

"Yes, Ringmaster," I whispered in reply to him as his soft and smooth face makes my body go into a violent spasm. It felt as if every syllable and every touch he does to me sends an electrifying shock throughout my veins that slowly makes me numb and dumb.

"You've been missing out on a lot of chores lately. Look, listen, look, I'm here to tell you that I'm not gonna kill you..." The Ringmaster chuckled before licking the holes of my ears, which almost crippled my feet, making me fall to the ground. Luckily, the Ringmaster has his hands around my waist. "... But you're gonna kill someone for me."

"I will do..." I said while panting and gasping, with my eyes rotated way upward and my tongue out, which caused my mouth to water uncontrollably. "... anything... you say... Ringmaster..." I spoke with an almost maniacal chuckle.

"Good, good." He whispered way close to my ear, which made his lips touch a small portion of my skin, causing my body to shake out of control. "You see, there's someone out there who's aware of our organization for quite some time now. People in the higher-ups want him gone. I heard you're acquainted with him, this certain man named George."