Another day, another story. At least this one is a little interesting, I guess... Covering the freak show that is the circus. They came in quickly and quietly, then the Ringmaster and his monkey passed out tickets and flyers all day. I was actually walking down Juniper and saw him, right after being assigned the story. I pulled him aside for a quick interview, and he gave the most vague and cryptic answers I have ever received. He failed to really give me anything to work with, so I decided to describe him. He was wearing puffy striped circus pants, with a bright plum colored top hat that stood probably a foot off his head. He had wide, green eyes that radiated mystery, and throughout the 15 minute interview, he didn't blink once. His face was clean shaven except for the large mustache, curled more on one side than the other, which gave his face a lopsided smile. An old bald brown monkey sat upon the Ringmaster's shoulder, screeching every so often as if to announce his existence.
I decided that I would just go to the circus itself and report from what I saw, then just crank out the actual writing immediately after. I got to the main tent early after walking through the rest of the circus quickly, I was ready for the main event.
People started to file in and I began scribbling furiously on my notebook. I try to capture all the details from a family's perfect brightly colored outfits, to the sound of popcorn being munched and soda being gulped down in anticipation. I note the animal headed people around the grounds, I note the absence of any trucks or way the tents and equipment got into Winthrop, I note the smell of rain, like it smells in summer on the hot black asphalt. The lights dim as I scribble. The boy and girl controlling ice and fire, putting on a show.
Some people give me weird looks since I just keep writing, hardly able to look up for 10 seconds at a time. One lady specifically is staring at me like she's worried. Maybe I looked suspicious in dark clothes in the back, writing everything I see.
The woman is suddenly gone. I see a chicken where she stood, but I assume I just looked away. Perhaps the chicken belongs to the circus, I think. I refocus on capturing the show.
After the show, I search around behind the tent but none of the performers are around to give an interview. The Ringmaster is nowhere to be found. I keep walking the grounds for about 15 minutes before I give up and trudge home to begin writing.
When back in the warm bright apartment, I try to do some research on the circus. The internet doesn't seem to know this peculiar group of performers exists, because the closest match to my google search ends up being a wikipedia page about ancient circus groups that show up in certain places based on the alignment of the stars and the cycle of the moon.
I end up making the story the most generic news brief possibly in my career, and then I climb into bed.
Perhaps tomorrow will bring with it another story with as much promise as the bodiless murder. There have been no leads and really no talk about it for weeks. Well, It's late... I had better get my sleep.