31 writing prompts: circus

Abaddon Lucifer

Evenstar and I are happily enjoying each other’s company at one of the local café’s in New York.  We don’t mouthspeak, but we do enjoy a hearty conversation in the mindspeech while we sip our drinks.  Our love for each other is very much plain for our brothers…to the point where Mephis gags and mimes choking.  Satan whacks him mentally and tells him to behave, drawing a slight smile from almost everyone.  Sama, however, continues to work on how we’re going to get Belial out of the institution to which he had been committed almost immediately upon his arriving on Earth; it wasn’t like he could hide his madness.

We do make small signals of our enjoyment of each other’s company outside of the mindscape; we hold hands, smile, and occasionally kiss.

“Why don’t you go back to your sideshow, freak?” some human suddenly demands from the table next to us.  Evenstar looks taken aback, and I just shrug in reply to his silent query—I don’t know what a sideshow is either—and we proceed to ignore the human.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t take kindly to that.  He stands up, grabs me shoulder, and pins me back against the seat.  “I said, why don’t you go back to your sideshow, freak?” he snarls, and Evenstar is very much upset by his irrational anger.  Satan’s interest is piqued, but I tell him to wait; we don’t need him to come charging in just yet.

I just look at the guy for a while.  He seems to get even angrier still, and so I cut through him, saying, “I heard you.  I simply don’t want to answer without knowing what you mean.”

“I mean that you belong to a circus, so why don’t you go back to it and stop polluting polite society?” he snarls, pushing me further back into the seat.

“Polluting?  How can me looks pollute society?  Does not Christ teach that we must love our neighbors?” I ask, confused.  Evenstar nods, but I don’t think the man notices.

The man shoves me away, and me horns make a horrible screeching noise when they hit the glass.  Everyone in the immediate vicinity winces.  “How dare you profane the name of the Lord!” he shrieks.  Evenstar silently informs me that everyone is watching.

“How dare you make assumptions about me based on the way I look,” I retort, standing up to face him.  I tower over him, and he seems more than a little unnerved.  Foolishly, he decides to hold his ground.  “I belong to no ‘sideshow’, to no ‘circus’, whatever they may be, little man.” An elderly woman looks a little surprised at me last statement.  “And if anyone is the freak here, it is you; neither of us gave you any reason to attack us so.”

The man snarls and tries to get his hands around me neck; me tail comes up and stings him almost automatically, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.  I flick a glance at Evenstar, and he nods and pulls out his cell phone—a somewhat stylish pink thing adorned with plastic 'jewels'—and calls for an ambulance.

Don’t bother to foot his bill, Abaddon, Satan tells me, knowing that I am thinking of doing just that.  Just pay for the window you accidentally scratched.