FREAK SHOW

Alice Rowan was known by few, but the people who did know her called her selfless, kind, and loving. She was always looking out for her little sister, Marceline.

But no one knew what went on behind closed doors at home.

Their mother and father were rarely involved in their lives, but when they were, they caused serious damage.

Alice had dropped out of her dream school at nineteen, giving up her future to look after her little sister, who was only six. She was afraid that if she ever left Marceline alone, she would die.

So Alice did everything in her power to provide the only mercy that existed in their household.

They didn't eat with their parents. They only ate the leftovers their parents didn't want, and even those portions were too small.

So Alice would give up her portion, no matter how little it was, and push it toward Marceline.

Of course, Marceline always tried to give some of her food back.

Alice always refused.

She would tell her that she was already grown up and that Marceline needed the nutrients more than she did.

But even with everything Alice sacrificed, she couldn't protect her sister from everything.

Food was only the bare minimum.

They still had to protect themselves from their father.

Alice always knew when it was coming.

There would be a subtle look in his eyes.

One too many beers.

The way his eyes lingered where they shouldn't.

Then he would take Alice into the woods behind their home.

And she would come back late, limping and crawling into bed, trying desperately to sleep.

She would tell herself the same thing every time.

It was better her than Marceline.

At least Marceline was safe.

Until one day, their father took both of them into the woods.

As they walked, Alice felt a chill run down her spine.

Scrape.

The metallic sound of something dragging along the trail.

Every time she glanced back at him, her eyes landed on the axe he was dragging behind him.

Alice quickly looked away, holding Marceline's hand tightly.

Then—

The sound of the axe dragging stopped.

They were still walking.

She could hear his footsteps behind them.

Slow.

Heavy.

Something wasn't right.

Alice looked back again.

The axe was raised high, catching the pale light of the moon.

Then he brought it down.

The once-quiet forest erupted with bloodcurdling screams.

"Alice, I'm scared."

Alice held Marceline close as she ran, her shoulder bleeding profusely.

"I know. It's going to be okay."

She could hear their father's footsteps gaining on them.

Closer.

Faster.

Alice pushed harder.

She refused to let her little sister fall into the hands of such a monster.

But as they ran, something suddenly hooked around Alice's foot.

She fell.

She held Marceline tightly, making sure her little sister didn't slip from her grip.

Then they both looked up.

They weren't in the forest anymore.

They were standing in a white void that seemed endless.

There was no sky.

No trees.

No ground.

Nothing.

"Alice... where are we?"

Alice tried to answer, but she had no idea.

She looked around frantically, searching for some way out.

"I don't know," she whispered. "But it's going to be okay. I promise."

"Aw... well, hello there, little dolls."

Both of them turned their heads.

A lone figure stood a few feet away from them in the endless white void, surrounded by nothing but silence.

"What a dreadful situation you find yourselves in."

Their porcelain mask was painted with crimson flames, dramatic black lashes, tiny hearts, and a wide red-and-black smile, topped with a glossy red clown nose.

They wore a dazzling ringmaster outfit—a magenta jacket, navy corset with gold accents, glittering midnight-blue fabric, and sparkling thigh-high boots.

A feathered top hat crowned their head, while a slender pink cane rested in their hand.

They slowly twirled the cane.

Click.

Then they bowed gracefully.

The painted smile never changed.

In the endless white, there was no audience.

Yet somehow...

It felt like someone was watching.

"Stay back!" Alice shouted.

She immediately stepped in front of Marceline, using her body as a shield for her little sister.

The mysterious woman didn't listen.

She simply took another step closer, pointing her cane at both of them.

"No need to be so rowdy. I'm standing right here, darling."

She tilted her head.

"However, I must say, it's been a while since I've had a new addition."

Her gaze slowly traveled over them.

"And you both seem to be in quite mint condition."

Her cane shifted toward Alice's shoulder.

"Apart from that nasty gash on your shoulder there."

Alice glanced down at her still-bleeding wound.

She immediately shifted herself, blocking the woman's view of Marceline.

The masked woman chuckled.

There was something twisted in her amusement.

"If you would like, I could send you back to your father."

Alice froze.

The woman's voice remained light and almost playful.

"But that would be such a waste. Letting him kill you when perhaps..."

She paused.

"...we could make a deal."

Alice tightened her grip on Marceline.

She didn't know where they were.

She didn't know how they had gotten there.

But one thing was certain.

Whoever this woman was, she had the power to send them back home.

Which meant she had the power to send them straight back into the situation they had escaped from by a miracle.

But if she had that kind of power...

She might also have the power to help them.

"What are you talking about?"

The masked woman crouched down in front of them, extending her hand.

"You see, child, I run a special place where people like you can come and escape whatever troubles they're running from."

Her hand gestured around the empty void.

"You'll have a nice bed to sleep in, food that will keep you stuffed, and clothing that will never become tattered."

Her smile remained fixed behind the porcelain mask.

"All I require in return is your services."

"My services?"

The masked woman nodded before standing tall.

"Yes, my child. Your services."

She tapped the tip of her cane against the ground.

"Depending on what you're good at. Maybe you're good at singing. Dancing. Playing music. Perhaps we'll find all of that out later on."

She tilted her head.

"All that matters now is whether you are willing to take this deal or not."

Alice thought about it.

She couldn't understand what the woman's motive was.

It wasn't like they could give her anything.

And she still couldn't understand what the woman meant by services.

Singing.

Dancing.

Playing music.

It didn't make sense.

What she was offering them was far greater than what she seemed to be asking for in return.

Alice looked down at Marceline.

"What about my sister?"

Her voice became firmer.

"She's too young to do any of that stuff. Is there any possible way I could work off her part of the debt as well?"

The masked woman placed a hand on her chin, pretending to think for a moment.

Then she nodded.

"Of course. I'm not an animal. I would never force child labor upon such a little girl."

She extended her hand.

"Now then... do we have a deal?"

Alice stared at the offered hand.

This was their chance.

A chance to get away from their parents.

A chance to give Marceline a life outside that house.

And if all they had to do was sing and dance in return...

It was a small price to pay for the freedom they had been searching for their entire lives.

Alice reached out.

She shook the woman's hand.

The masked woman then reached toward Marceline.

Alice reacted instantly, grabbing her wrist.

"Wait! What are you going to do to her?"

The masked woman shoved Alice aside and placed a hand directly in front of Marceline's face.

"Wait, no! Please don't hurt her!"

Marceline stood motionless.

Then a warm, shimmering glow enveloped her.

Alice's eyes widened.

A pair of small, soft white wings unfurled gently from Marceline's back with a light flutter of feathers.

Golden light swept down her body, dissolving her vintage linen dress into an ornate white-and-gold gown complete with flowing sleeves, twin white roses at her neck, and sleek golden heels.

Her muted brown hair brightened into a snowy-white halo of soft curls.

Her eyes shifted into a brilliant celestial blue.

"Marceline!"

But as Marceline turned to look at Alice—

She disappeared.

Only confetti remained.

"Marceline!"

Alice's voice cracked.

"What did you do to her?! You said you were going to help us!"

"Quit your chattering."

The masked woman's voice remained disturbingly calm.

"She's waiting for you on the other side."

Her cane lifted slightly.

"Now it is your turn. Be still."

Alice barely had time to react.

The masked woman snapped her fingers.

Suddenly, Alice's body shuddered.

A brilliant golden light erupted from her back.

With a sharp burst of magic, enormous feathered wings tore through her clothing and unfurled behind her.

Alice gasped.

Her dark hair whipped wildly around her face as the strands rapidly shifted from brown to a vibrant cotton-candy pink.

Her old clothes dissolved into shimmering particles, vanishing into the light.

For one terrifying moment, she was left exposed—

Then the magic immediately wrapped around her.

Pink fabric appeared from thin air, forming piece by piece.

A delicate dress.

A gleaming corset.

Long sleeves.

Thigh-high boots.

Golden accents followed, locking into place as though an invisible tailor were dressing her.

Then—

A golden bow and arrows materialized in her hands.

Alice stared at them in horror.

She looked down at herself.

Then back at the masked woman.

Her newly pink eyes widened with pure terror.

She opened her mouth to speak.

But before a single word could escape—

She disappeared.

Only tiny pieces of confetti and glitter remained behind.

The masked woman stared at the empty space where Alice had been.

"What distinctive appearances they have taken."

She gave a delighted little chuckle.

"Surely they'll be noticed fast. Sooner than the rest."

She twirled her cane.

"Better get a move on. It would be absolutely dreadful if I missed the debut."

When Alice opened her eyes, she didn't recognize her sister at first glance.

Then the memory of witnessing Marceline's transformation snapped back into place.

"Marceline!"

Alice quickly wrapped her arms around her.

She held her tightly, as though afraid she would disappear again.

Then Alice pulled back and looked around.

They weren't in the white void anymore.

They were somewhere else.

A carnival.

Except this wasn't a carnival.

It was a waking nightmare.

They began moving slowly, still slightly off balance from whatever had happened in the white void.

Then Alice tripped over a tangled power cable.

Her lungs burned as she scrambled back to her feet.

Marceline's hand remained locked tightly around hers, desperate and sweaty.

They weren't running to anywhere.

They were just running away.

The air was thick with the cloying scent of stale popcorn and something coppery.

Like old blood.

Above them, the big top loomed.

Its canvas was stained and patched, held up by poles that groaned in the wind.

The only light came from flickering, mismatched bulbs strung haphazardly between the tents, casting long, dancing shadows across the ground.

Alice's breathing grew heavier.

Then a shadow detached itself from the side of a fortune-teller's wagon.

It was tall.

Spindly.

Moving with a jerky, unnatural gait.

As it stepped into a weak pool of light, Alice choked back a scream.

The thing had the form of a man.

But its face was a monstrous black beak—long and sharp—with perfectly round, glassy lenses for eyes. The lenses reflected the flickering bulbs in a dozen distorted points.

It wore a heavy, dark coat and a top hat, like some ghastly Victorian undertaker.

As it passed, it didn't look at them.

It simply released a wet, rattling breath.

"Keep going," Alice hissed, her voice trembling.

They burst into a small clearing surrounded by dilapidated game booths.

A ring of figures stood silently in the middle.

Their backs were turned toward the girls.

Alice didn't want to see their faces.

But she couldn't look away.

One by one, they turned in unison.

Alice's stomach dropped.

They were grotesque parodies of circus workers.

Their faces were painted in stark, cracked black and white—sad clowns with tear streaks that looked like dried ink.

They wore miniature conical hats and dresses with stiff, striped ruffles.

Their tights were a jarring mix of harlequin diamonds and stripes.

As they moved, their joints made a clicking sound.

Like wooden dolls.

Their eyes were too large.

Entirely white.

And they stared at the girls with an empty, focused intent that made Alice's skin crawl.

"Don't look at them! Just run!"

Alice pulled Marceline toward the edge of the clearing.

But the exit was blocked.

A large, animalistic shape stood in their path.

A fox.

Or what used to be one.

It stood upright on two legs, its body covered in thick reddish-brown fur trimmed with matted white fur.

Its face was a mask—a stylized, rigid fox visage with dead, black eye sockets.

It cocked its head.

For a second, Alice thought it was only a costume.

Until it extended a clawed, gloved hand.

A faint, low-frequency hum emanated from it.

Then came another sound.

A distant, distorted scream bleeding through the air.

Alice recoiled.

A hand suddenly clamped onto her shoulder from behind.

She spun around.

A figure in a voluminous white hooded robe stood behind her, covered in fluffy, feathered tufts.

A large white wing pressed against Alice.

The face was that of a barn owl.

But the synthetic skin was split, revealing terrifyingly large, dark, human-like eyes that blinked slowly.

Its feathers were wet with some viscous, pale fluid.

Then it chirped.

The sound was too high-pitched.

Too wrong.

Desperation took over.

Alice and Marceline dodged the creature and sprinted toward a gap between two tents.

The gap was narrow.

They squeezed through.

But halfway through, they were forced to stop.

A figure was suspended in the narrow passage, swinging gently from strings attached to a crudely made wooden crossbar above.

A ballerina.

Her porcelain skin was cracked, and blood-red tears were painted across her cheeks.

She wore a grey tutu decorated with black roses.

Her joints were visibly hinged.

She hummed a fractured, childlike tune.

Her head lolled at an angle that should have broken her neck.

"Please, no," Alice sobbed.

A loud, screeching—

THWACK!

The sound erupted beside her ear.

A crow, as tall as a man, had landed on the tent pole beside her.

Its head was a meticulously crafted bird of prey, complete with an angry, gold-rimmed eye.

It wore a red velvet jacket and a tiny top hat.

In its clawed, human-like hands, it clutched a cane.

Then it turned its head.

A full three-hundred and sixty degrees.

Its gaze locked onto theirs with preternatural intensity.

And it released a guttural, terrifying—

CAW!

The sound vibrated through their chests.

The girls stumbled backward into the main path.

The air grew colder.

A strange static hiss began filling their ears, drowning out the caws and clicking.

Up ahead, on a crude wooden stage, a single figure stood.

It wore a flowing Victorian-style black lace gown with a tight corset and ruffles.

It was elegant.

Until Alice looked at its head.

A heavy, square, antique cathode-ray tube television set.

The screen was dark.

Then, as they watched, a single blocky digital eye flared to life.

It pulsed with a sick blue light.

A mechanical voice rasped through the static.

"SCANNING."

A soft, mournful bleat cut through the noise.

On a smaller platform near the stage, a girl with pale white skin and long, wavy white hair was huddled.

Fluffy lamb ears sprouted from her hair.

Her eyes were squeezed shut.

She was beautiful.

And terrifying.

The most disturbing detail was the deep, gaping wound in her neck, from which black, viscous blood slowly dribbled.

She wasn't just wearing a sacrificial lamb costume.

She was the sacrifice.

Marceline suddenly yanked Alice's arm, pulling her into the darkness of an alleyway.

"This way! We have to find an exit! Don't look at anything!"

Alice ran blindly.

The images of the beak-masks, the doll-clowns, the fox, the owl, the crow, the TV-head, and the lamb were seared into her mind.

Every shadow was alive.

Every sound was a threat.

The carnival didn't want them to leave.

They ran down another path.

A dead end.

Blocked off.

Alice stopped abruptly.

They tried to turn around.

Too late.

Figures emerged from the darkness.

One.

Then another.

Then another.

Soon they were surrounded.

All of them simply stared.

Alice pulled Marceline against her, desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—to escape.

Then a familiar voice drifted through the darkness.

"Now, now, everyone. Don't be rude to our new first of Mays."

The crowd split.

The masked woman stepped through them.

She stopped directly in front of Alice and Marceline.

"I know they do look quite peculiar."

She glanced around at the gathered creatures.

"But it appears that we have two pure lambs in a cage of vicious wolves."

Her cane tapped lightly against the ground.

"I do hope you can all get along."

Alice held Marceline close, covering her sister's eyes while glaring at the masked woman.

The woman had promised them protection.

Safety.

A warm bed.

Food.

Instead, they were surrounded by monsters.

Actual monsters.

"No, no. Don't give me such a sour face."

The masked woman tilted her head.

"I didn't lie."

Her smile never moved.

"You have a warm bed to sleep in and food that will keep you full."

She shrugged.

"I never said anything about how it would look."

Alice clenched her jaw so tightly it looked painful.

"You lying bi—"

"Hush now, child."

The masked woman made a simple zipping motion across the air.

Alice's mouth suddenly sealed shut.

Her eyes widened.

She clawed at her lips, trying desperately to force them open.

Nothing.

Not even a sound.

The masked woman simply turned toward the crowd as if Alice and Marceline no longer existed.

"Has anyone seen Jaxy boy? He's always running off and never at his post."

Everyone shook their heads.

"No bother."

She sighed.

"Guess I'll just have to do this the hard way."

She snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

For the first time, even with the mask covering her face, her annoyance was obvious.

"Now, now, Jaxxy boy."

Her voice sharpened.

"I know you're here."

She tapped her cane once against the ground.

"And unless you would like another punishment, I suggest you come out."

Silence.

Then movement.

Emerging from the shadows ahead of them stood a figure that brought both a shiver of terror and an unwelcome, breathless jolt to Alice's chest.

He was strikingly handsome in a deeply uncanny way.

A lethal blend of gothic elegance and nightmarish malice.

A mop of messy silver-ash hair curled softly over his forehead, stark against the dark, suffocating gloom of the carnival.

His face was painted in ghastly monochrome skull makeup.

A skeletal mouth had been drawn in sharp black-and-white stitches across his jaw, extending into a dark, shadowy grin that looked permanently etched into his skin.

His nose was blackened.

Around his eyes, heavy black smudges faded outward like bruised ink.

Yet beneath the macabre paint, the sharp, sculpted line of his jaw and cheekbones was undeniable.

His eyes were entirely milk-white.

Void of pupils.

They stared straight through Alice with an intense, unblinking focus that felt intimately dangerous.

"Told you to quit calling me that."

Alice unconsciously tightened her grip on Marceline.

The masked woman gave a delighted little laugh.

"Don't be such a dreadful child."

She gestured toward the girls with her cane.

"Go show our little Cupid and Angel where they'll be staying."

Then her tone became slightly colder.

"And remember..."

She paused.

"No funny business."

Her cane tapped against the ground.

"These are the first pure lambs we've had."

The smile on her mask seemed almost impossibly wide.

"I'd hate for them to become tainted."

Alice barely had time to react.

Jax reached out.

His gloved hand caught Alice's wrist in a grip like forged iron.

It wasn't painfully tight.

But the calm, unquestionable authority in his hold made running feel impossible.

"Follow me."

His pale eyes shifted toward Marceline.

"Both of you."

He led them away from the neon glow and the blaring, distorted calliope music, deeper into the heart of the circus grounds.

They passed rows of rusted, silent machinery and darkened tents where faint, wet rustling sounds echoed from within.

Alice kept looking around.

Every instinct screamed at her to run.

But Jax never loosened his grip.

At the far edge of the grounds stood a sprawling, dilapidated wooden structure that looked as though it had been pieced together from forgotten boxcars and old parade floats.

The air here was heavy with the smell of damp wood, old velvet, and stale paint.

Jax pushed open a heavy, iron-reinforced door.

He led them down a narrow hallway lined with mismatched doors, each bearing a carved number.

The interior was dimly lit by flickering gas lamps mounted along the walls.

Finally, he stopped in front of a heavy door near the end of the hall.

He pulled a heavy brass key from his coat.

Click.

The lock turned.

He opened the door.

Inside, the room was surprisingly lush.

Yet deeply unsettling.

Rich, faded burgundy curtains covered the windows.

Two narrow iron beds were made with thick, dark quilts.

On a vanity in the corner sat two porcelain dolls.

Their faces were turned toward the door.

Staring back with empty eyes.

"Your living quarters."

Jax stepped aside, making a grand, mock-sweeping bow.

His pale, pupil-less eyes remained fixed on Alice.

His expression was an intoxicating mix of dark charm and lethal menace.

"You'll be comfortable here."

He paused.

"As long as you follow the rules."

Alice swallowed.

"And if we don't?"

Her voice was barely a whisper.

It trembled despite her efforts to keep it steady.

Jax leaned in close.

His shadowy, painted smile was inches from her face.

The cold aura radiating from him made her skin prickle.

"Then you become part of the act."

He purred the words softly.

Then he backed out into the hallway.

"Sleep well, girls."

His gaze lingered on Alice for one final moment.

"The doors lock from the outside."

The heavy wooden door slammed shut.

Alice and Marceline stood frozen.

Then—

Click.

The sound of the brass key turning echoed through the quiet room.

Neither girl moved.

Neither spoke.

They were alone.

Or at least...

Alice desperately hoped they were.

The room suddenly felt much smaller.

And somewhere beyond the locked door, the carnival continued to breathe, groan, and whisper.

Tomorrow, they would discover exactly what their deal had cost them.