The Deadly Circus

Dilly Hudson

Dilly’s P.O.V.

The sudden squeaky, crackling sounds coming from the speaker up ahead had my ears bawling out for help, a muffled, deep voice summoned our new Science teacher Mr. Brooke to the office. Peeking from a classroom window I could see him slowly making his way to a wooden door at the the absolute end of the hall, my concentration suddenly broke when a felt something hit me over the head,a paper ball sat next to the foot of the chair on the floor giving evidence that it was used to commit the crime,

“Who was that?” I shouted

The whole class erupted in laughter, I climbed down from the chair I was standing on and made my way across to the writing board where I wrote a curse word and proceeded to remove my pants, where I was abruptly interrupted by the next subject teacher, Miss Portia, who was already standing in the midst of the classroom,

“What are you doing Dilly Hudson,”she said in a stern voice

I slowly pulled back up the pants that was already halfway down my thighs,

“Nothing Miss Portia, I was just making a simple demonstration,”

With the guilt of knowing what I wrote on the board I dashed for the classroom door, half way down the hall I could hear Miss Portia shouting, “Oh, Dilly, you did it now!”

I smiled and continued through the doors onto the street, knowing I couldn’t go back, I decided to run all the way home.

Spotting me from the kitchen window, I could see my mom hurriedly made her way out to the porch, I began walking to not look so suspicious,

I smiled, “Ah, mama I can see, you’re happy to see me,” I said trying to lighten the mood,

Mama was recently instructed to use glasses, her eyes were becoming pretty bad from all the time she spent in the kitchen baking for her cake shop in town. She was the sole provider as Papa had left for war along with a few other men in the town.

She lowered the glasses to the edge of her nose giving me a stern look, we stood there for quite a while before she sighed and left for the kitchen.

I whistled letting out a sigh of relief, still tired from all the running I sat on the steps to take a few breaths, in the distance I could see my brother coming back from our garden with a sack on his shoulder and a hoe in his other hand.

As he got a little closer I could hear him asking what I was doing home this early, I placed my finger on dry lips signaling him to stop talking, he chuckled and sat beside me,

“What will mama ever do with you,” he said patting my head,

“I did nothing wrong and stop touching my head,” I said, shoving his hand from my head.

Ignoring my actions he stood up and entered the house with me following close behind,

“Mama, I’m back!” he shouted.

Uninterested in the upcoming conversation, I ran upstairs to the room I shared with Tim, I got onto the bed and buried my face into the pillow and drifted off into thought.

It seems I wasn't the only one who got into trouble today. Mr. Brooke was in the headmaster's office for a long time, and I overheard John Brown say that once you enter, you never come out the same. Either way John has always been a prick and what he said about the Headmaster’s office might not have been true, the thing is teachers are rarely called to her office and when they do you rarely see them afterwards. As I sank deeper in thought, a voice cut through the silence, it was Mama shouting for me to come down for dinner.

“Dilly, the food is going to get cold if you don’t come quickly.”

“Coming Mama!”

I slowly rolled onto my side and pushed myself out of bed, still feeling a bit sleepy. I staggered down the stairs to the kitchen, where a steaming bowl of soup awaited me on the table. With a yawn, I sank into the chair opposite Tim and reached for the spoon in front of me. I scooped up a generous amount of soup and brought it to my lips. I could see from the corner of my eye that Mama looked a bit restless and anxious. Her shoulder bones had deepend and her arms were looking a bit thin. I glanced up at her and asked if everything was okay. She replied by saying I should finish my food before it gets cold, she stood from her chair and headed straight for her bedroom. Tim frowned, “You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” he snapped.

The truth is, I was really concerned about her wellbeing. She was barely eating and seemed absent-minded most of the time. I know she misses Papa, and I do too. I could also see that she had become increasingly worried since it had been months since we received a letter from him. Papa had been writing to us every month since he had left for the war, he would ask about Tim and the garden, how I was doing in school and asked about Mama’s shop and her wellbeing, however, the last letter we got from him arrived a month or so before the opening of school, Tim and I didn’t get the chance to read it as Mama took it upon herself to collect it from the mailbox and took it to her room. According to her, Papa asked for us as usual and said he’ll be coming home real soon.

I was still sitting at the table while Tim, frustrated with me, had moved to the living room to watch TV,as evident from his earlier remarks he was planning to not speak with me for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, my soup had grown cold because my thoughts had drifted elsewhere. I got up from the table, placed the bowl of soup in the sink and marched upstairs to the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed with my legs folded to my chest and began looking out the window to our garden that was laying on the other side of the valley. I could see the rows of corn dancing in sync to the rhythm of the wind , the dark night sky opened it eyes to reveal the bright shining stars looking upon the hill side that a small two bedroom house sat, the place I called home.

I sat there until I could feel my eyes getting heavy, I wearily turned over onto my back and pulled for the covers.

The Next Morning

I was awaken by the loud banging sounds coming from downstairs, Tim was nailing up a part on the porch and he seemed to knock a little harder each time the hammer hit the head of the nail.

I checked the small clock on the bed stand and hastily jumped from the bed to the bathroom where I had a quick shower, got dressed for school and ran straight for the front door.

Just a few miles up the road I heard Tom hollering for me to return and properly greet Mama and him before leaving for school but I was already so far away and if I returned I would be late to catch the bus, I continued toward the bus stop.

A few minutes later a old, yellow, ran down bus pulled up at the bus stop where I was waiting patiently with two other students.

I sat silently on board looking outside a small box window watching as the mountain plains turned into large brick buildings, bustling streets and bright colors. The bus came to a halt at a tall, temple shaped building that was surrounded by brick walls and iron gates, ‘the giant cage of hell.’

One student after the other marched to meet up with their friends who gathered in the court yard waiting for devotion to start, I on the other just stood there at the entrance of the gate eager for the ending of devotion before it even started because unlike most kids, I was rolling solo which rooted my hate for this place a little deeper.

Today was another busy day at school, students conversed excitingly about the new circus opening in Dunthill. Dunthill was known as the rich and sometimes white people side of town, it had really big apartments and a few good looking houses. Mr. Brooke was from Dunthill and even the way he walked said that he wasn’t from around the country side nor a poor folk, nevertheless, I took quite a liking to Mr. Brooke for the few days I had classes with him. Each time he would share science facts that definitely peeked my interest, he would bring up fun practical ideas like erupting volcanoes to evaporating acids and even dissection, I made it my point of duty after each class to ask numerous questions about scientific research and all that just to get his attention.

With Mr. Brooke around, this place was becoming quite bareable and I longed to have classes with him each time the timetable read science class. Wanting to see Mr. Brooke is not just a habit anymore-it was becoming something complicated, something I didn't want to admit,

but that's afternoon, when the final bell rang, I noticed something strange. His classroom door usually propped open with a stock of old textbooks was closed. Locked. And pinned to it was a single slip of paper with a message scribbled in hurried handwriting:

"Classes suspended until further notice."

No explanation. No signature. Just silence

I reached for the doorknob, hoping it would turn, that maybe he was inside ...but that moment my hand touched the cold metal, a heavy feeling washed over me- an uneasy stillness I couldn't shake.

I told myself it was nothing. Teachers came and went all the time. But as I walked away, that tightness in my chest only grew stronger, as if something else-something far more important was about to disappear too.

Later that night, when Mama called Tom and I into the living room, her face pale and trembling, her eyes watery, I realized that Mr. Brooke's sudden absence was only the beginning.

She held a letter in her hands.

A letter stamped with the Army's crest.

A letter addressed to our family.

And before she even opened her mouth, I knew-

someone else wasn't coming back.