Cirque du’ Phobeus, the Circus Fear Tour (Part 3)

Today, I am finishing the horrific retelling of my wife's nightmare. Let it wash over you and encompass you, and you might just understand how terribly scary the nightmare had been. I, of course, took liberties and added to what I was told, but the essence remains.

If you have not read Parts 1 & 2 yet, you can find those here:

https://steemit.com/dream/@dbzfan4awhile/cirque-du-phobeus-the-circus-fear-tour-part-1
https://steemit.com/dream/@dbzfan4awhile/cirque-du-phobeus-the-circus-fear-tour-part-2

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The next morning dawned like no other for me. I was, again, cramped and folded inside a coffin. Again, I was washed.

A gruff voice shouted at me while I was being towel-dried. “Get up! Stop this nonsense!”

The same girl was washing me off again, and it was she who voiced objection. “I will not stop! The girl needs to be clean and fresh every day. It is the way.”

There was a growl in the man’s throat, but he relented and stalked away. His booted feet left strong prints in the hard-packed dirt. I was still bound hand-and-foot with the gag in my mouth, but I was allowed to stretch and stand. That was enough to make me want to cry. I was all cried out, though. There were no tears left in me and my throat was already ragged from the efforts to scream. I just nodded and shook my head in response to any questions… or I would shrug.

“Is this too rough?” the girl asked me, the gentle lilt in her voice.

I shook my head.

“Is the water warm enough?”

I nodded.

“Do you feel better now that you are standing?”

I nodded again.

She stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. “I’ll help you get through this. We will become good friends soon I hope.”

I nodded again, but was feeling a bit weirded out. The words were sweet, but the actions were a bit creepy. Her lips were very soft and she seemed to hold a smile against my forehead as she did so.

JJ liked to kiss me like that, but he always needed to kiss me 3 times. When it didn’t happen this time, it confused me. Then I was struck again with reality, a hammer-stroke to the heart. My JJ was not here. Where was he?

The girl brushed my hair a few times before speaking again. “Ok, my dear, back inside.”

I felt like she regretted putting me back in the coffin again. I tried to struggle, but my arms wouldn’t quite follow my mental lead and I ended up just doing as the girl told me to do. My mind was slightly foggy and I could not shake the feeling.

Darkness again. Darker than before. Where was I? Where was JJ? What was going on? When would I wake up? I asked myself these questions over-and-over, but had no answers. The air was warm and thick. I heard distant voices arguing but could not make out the substance or the words.

Syrupy black dripped all around me. I could taste thoughts… they were like bittered honey that bubbled. Pinprick bursts lit the darkness behind my eyes; and flashes of colored ribbons floated along me periphery. I drifted like that for a long time and I don’t recall any more from that night… day? Or whatever it was.

When I awoke, I heard screams. I felt myself moving, though I couldn’t fathom where to or why.

“JJ,” I murmured, hopeful. My mouth was clear of the rag. “What’s going on?”

“Quiet, dear one,” answered the familiar girl-voice. “We are alright and safe here. The Elder tells me we will be safe and they always protect me.”

I noticed the quaver in her voice and didn’t respond. Most times I would probably try to comfort someone that was in pain, but I wanted her to feel fear right then. I didn’t want her knowing that I longed for bullets to go through whatever material the coffin was made. It was loud outside. I could see again, the small shaft of light along my eyes.

I twisted my neck a bit and could see the girl’s silhouetted shape, trembling. I hated maternal instincts! I just wanted to soothe her fears at that moment. I figured that she like me, but now all alone in this place… she probably believes that nobody searched for her and that these people saved her. Good old Stockholm Syndrome at its best.

“Where is my husband?” I asked, more loudly. That was all I got out, though, as the coffin lid was flipped open and a wooden handle came down across my face.

“No!” hissed the girl.

“She needs to listen right now to stay safe!” growled a man from the outer ring of darkness that began to enclose around me.

“Some burdisser ahs ah hahs in wandah arah in shooshoo too do ding don don…” was what I heard last. Darkness swam down to meet my mind. The ringing in my ears blended against the darkness.

Again I left my body. I knew it this time. I was more in control of it this time. I swept out of the confines of the coffin, the narrow planks streaked with my own blood. My consciousness swelled and popped out of the canvas tent where the coffin was being stowed away. It was dark again and there were few performers out and about.

‘Can I see where I am?’ I thought hollowly. No, I couldn’t, but at least I could see some of the place.

I flew down the paths and out onto the road. A lone car with headlights on sat there, started. It was my Juke… and there was my JJ!! He was here. He was on his phone, talking to someone. I could only make out some of the conversation.

“Yes, it’s in the country out here, just like we thought,” he said to someone on the other end.

I soared into him and could feel his heartbeat, it matched my own exactly. I could feel rage in him and sorrow and fear. I knew he was roiling with confused actions and didn’t know what to do. I could even smell the scent of his Wolfthorn Deodorant that he liked to wear when out and about.

“I don’t care. No, I don’t care!” He was getting angry with whoever it was that he was talking to on the phone.

I felt the tugging and was pulled back some. I longed to be next to him. I was able to shake off the feeling and drifted outside, watching. It wasn’t very much longer before he shut off the car and got out. He had his Dr. Who shirt on, the one with TARDIS and the tick marks from the Silence.

He had no weapon or anything that I could see. He smelled greatly of fear as he marched into the compounds, a spirit-me sort of draped around him. I wanted to keep him safe from harm.

“Ok, my love, I am here for you… where are they keeping you?” he whispered. “Where are you?” He was walking with purpose, but with caution. He ducked between canvas tents and performers’ wagons.

I spun in front of him and tried to coax him towards my location. I don’t know if it worked or not, but he did turn my direction. The tugging was getting greater as we neared my physical location. Then I saw it, at the same time that he saw it.

There was a small stream just passed the tent-line. There were a dozen women bent towards the water. He rushed over to them and stopped, sinking backwards at the last moment and covering his nose with the top of his shirt. When my eyes caught sight of the bodies, I could tell quite easily that they were all dead.

Each one was bent as if in prayer, their faces dipped fully into the water. There was no rise or fall to the chest. No struggle, only death. I had not really seen death in this way, although I’ve seen death more than I’d like. JJ crept up and tentatively lifted a few wrists and let them drop.

When he turned back around, his eyes were brimming with tears and his hands were clenched in white-knuckled grips. His breathing was much harder and his body trembled. I had but rarely seen this much rage in him… maybe never.

Then, all of a sudden, he collapsed to the ground. The pulling force yanked me back and my eyes flipped open. Darkness and through the slit more darkness. It was night, just like I had seen. I could hear sobs, distantly, but my mouth was too far away from my brain to say anything or make a noise. I wanted so much to cry out, but it was to no avail.

I heard him sob softly, “I’m sorry, my love, this is too much for me. All these women dead. I… I need help.” He pushed himself away, running out.

I cried. I just curled tighter and cried. He was right, though, I realized. At that moment a soft, vicious laugh curled around me. It was the drunkard’s laugh.

“He won’t find anything,” he whispered to me through the darkness. “He may never come back. Most of them don’t come back, and those that do come back are always proven wrong. Even cops have their desires.”

With that the vile voice sank into me and I cried even harder.

The next couple of days were a series of painful washings and beatings. The first time I was tied to the coffin and something thin was used against my exposed back. Over and over I cried out in pain, and over and over it came down against me. It was the drunkard man that ordered it.

It was my friend, the little Stockholm Syndrome Girl, that rescued me from the abuse each time. She was so much nicer than everyone else. Then, she would clean my wounds and hold me close. The bodies that had been in the water the previous night (or was it 2 nights ago?) had been removed. There was nothing that I could see. Maybe that was all just a dream.

I sometimes had dreams like that. One day I dreamt that I was left at a Circus Haunted Tour and abducted. Sometimes I can’t tell anymore what’s real and what’s not real.

I mentioned this to the Hobo, the one that always smells like booze, and he grinned with his crooked teeth. I knew it was all a costume and makeup now. He then laughed and leaned close, anger in his whispering.

“Girl, we won’t take your insolence. We are going to torture you until you die or go crazy. Either one works for me.” Then he spat on the ground at my feet and stormed away.

When I mentioned the dream to the girl, she looked squeamish. I was confused by her response, at this point having written it off as a dream.

“The Police came and there was nothing to see,” she told me. “You are safe here.” She then kissed my forehead again. It was so gentle. I ran a finger on her hand. I was glad that she, at the least, was good to me and could be honest… even if she was delusional.
She told me that when JJ had arrived, he had taken them to the river and there had been no bodies. He was, of course, yelling and screaming, but they didn’t see anything. He pleaded for them to do something because, otherwise, his wife would be dead.

“The man was so deluded, he thought his wife had been abducted.”

I knew the words didn’t make sense. I know it now. Sometimes, though, things began to not quite make sense. She would kiss my forehead like she did and I would feel safe and warm. She would hold me and brush away the tears.

Then, as always, the dribbling colors and strange patterns would lead me to sleep. I haven’t, since then, been able to reach outside of me. Thoughts eluded me. Days seemed so very long.

Some days I would be lashed, some days I would be held. Some days I was even able to watch the show. Thoughts bleed together and even now the coffin opens… there she is, waiting on me.

Where did I leave off? Where did I leave you at?

The Circus was fun. I played in the hoops and swung on the trapeze. I slept in my box and it was so nice. The girl, my friend, would be with me many hours at a time. Something doesn’t feel right but I don’t know what it is.

I feel like I should be writing something, but I don’t know why. I should be out there with the Performers, but they have told me that I am not ready yet. I was beat this morning for being defiant… I should know better.

I fell asleep and awoke so many times. I was finally given a young lady to mentor. They were finally entrusting me with training another girl to help out. I teared up when she came before me first, after I pulled her from the line and helped to calm her down.

The girl was pretty, with red curls and bright green eyes. She trembled and I soothed her. I cried so that she would feel comfortable. I knew she was sad that she would fail. I knew she needed to be reassured.

“Do as they say and you can have the happiness that I have found,” I told her, kissing her on the forehead. I was in makeup as a street urchin, it was fun. This girl needed to have fun. I showed her to her box… I remember how much I needed my box to help me overcome my fears. She needed one now.

I even got to help to baptize the girls that were having trouble with the terrors. It was so easy, too. All I had to do was hold their head under the water while they thought about their lives. They loved it so much they would stay that way even after I let go and moved on to the next one in line.

I go to sleep now, smiling all big smiles. I can’t believe how happy I have become.

My dreams were bad tonight. I dreamt that I was someone else entirely. I felt as if I should not be in the Circus. The lashings were not out of kindness, they were punishments and torture. My mind even dreamt up a man that I could’ve sworn that I knew a long time ago.

I sometimes even saw him at night, his scruffy beard and moustache getting worse each time I did. I listened to the poor man so many nights screaming that he knew his wife, Miranda, was here and that she was still alive… that she had to be alive. So many nights he would collapse in tears and sob on the ground.

A few times he even had the Police with him. Those were the days that he would be the most agitated. Then, after they would listen to him, they would push him out. After a number of times, he stopped coming every day… I kind of missed his scruffy roundness.

I went to sleep the other night thinking about him, thinking that it would be nice to have a husband that cared so much for me.

Now I wake up, fully aware. I don’t know where my JJ is, but I realize what they have done to me and I feel deep within me. I am going to try to escape, now that they think that they have me under their control.

I want to vomit, though, knowing the bad things that I have been made to endure and to do to others. I cry and have to scrub my eyes clear. Fortunately, I’m no longer bound or gagged, so I am free. I will go at night through the back gates and just run and run.

Ok, so the plan failed miserably. They caught me trying to save the women today before I made my escape… that was why I failed. I should have left them, but then what kind of person would I be.

Again, the drunkard struck me down with his fist, blacking my eye. “I’ve told you already what we were going to do, bitch. Now we will double-up on our efforts to torture you into submission. If you die, you die, I don’t care anymore. We will win this little game.”

The beating went on for over an hour, with the lash-marks leaving a swath of stinging welts across my back, legs, and arms. I fought against it as much as I was able to do, but now it’s no longer a concern. I just want to die. I told them so. I told them that I would be dead soon, and all they did was laugh.
“No you won’t,” the leader had said. He was a short guy, actually, and I’m sure I could have thrown him if I wasn’t so beaten. “You will never win this game. Bind her and box her. Don’t let her see the light of day again.”

That’s when fear really struck. I knew he was serious. I’m so very sorry my love. I so want to be with you again… I hope you can find happiness one day.

So, if you find this writing before it is too late, please help. Find my Husband and tell him. I can already feel my mind slipping. I am writing this to you using my own blood on old Tickets that I have been able to gather together. Hopefully you can find me soon. If it is too late, please tell my Husband, @dbzfan4awhile, that I love him and will meet him again.

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Thank you for sharing this horrible journey and I hope I didn't make too many people have too many bad feels. Please stay tuned for me to return to my normal stories where I flip Fairy Tales & Fables on their heads. Next up after this one is Paul Bunyan.