You'll Never Guess Who the Old Man Really is!!!!

Now, there are hints throughout, see if you can guess. You might be distracted by the other characters and the reasons they are monstrous, however. 

Listen in on a telling conversation between Fred Dodger and one of his performers. It's about his father and himself. Dark secrets abound!!

“My father’s no saint, Al. He’s done murder…”

“You told me he had murdered. Look at me and Hank and the clowns…”

Fred let out a loud sob. “It’s much worse what he did…you can’t imagine.”

He was certain Al was going to speak but when he didn’t, Fred continued. “My father was wanted… He still is; he always will be…what he did…”

“You can tell me…”

“I’ve killed, too, Al. I killed to protect him—see, he killed some women…”

Fred couldn’t get the rest out. Al soothed him, said he could confide in him. “What is it? What’s preying upon you, Fred? Something is—Who did your dad kill? You can tell me, honest. I won’t tell no one!”

(end of excerpt)

"Don't be fooled into thinking this is a routine, run-of-the-mill, carnival scary. Nothing routine here! CIRCUS OF HORRORS is a very special story, and I'm glad it introduced me to author Carole Gill, an exceptionally talented writer."

"Riveting. Imaginative. Chilling. Fantastical."

"Wonderful horror with a side order of ribs."

"Outstanding story line and strong characters. I felt like I was right there and a part of the sideshow.

"An awesome little creepfest!"

"Never going to the circus again!"

"True horror!"

“Scary from beginning to end! Sit back and read your way into a horror filled tale! Enjoy!”

 ON OFFER FOR 99CENTS/PENCE FOR ONE WEEK, APRIL 17 - 23 

AMAZON

FREE READ! This Story Inspired Circus of Horrors!

Here's the short story that inspired 'Circus of Horrors!'

GRAPHIC VIOLENCE! 

 WEIRDEST SHOW ON EARTH!

“Tell me somethin’, do you ever get nightmares, you know. About stuff, Hank?”

Hank was fixing his bow tie. He was only three and a half feet tall but when he was dressing for a show he felt like Fred Astaire. He sighed. “Sure, after what we been through. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, well—it’s now that counts, right?”

“Sure is, my friend. Our luck turned around didn’t it? Don’t I always say to look on the bright side?”

It was true. Tommy always helped him. He always would. That was why they were pals. Friends forever—literally.

They were part of a circus. Granted it was small, but it made up for that by its uniqueness. And like any circus, aside from midgets,

it had animal acts, performers and clowns. What’s a circus without clowns?

Yup, considering its size, this circus was pretty popular. People like to be entertained. Times were hard in this, the third year of what would come to be known as, the Great Depression. Yet, despite that, people came; all kinds of folks. Rubes and hicks mainly—because they never played the big cities; just small towns. Sebastian said it was better that way. They didn’t want any trouble. Not that they couldn’t handle it and then some.

Yet another show was about to start and the boys were glad. When they heard the brass band start up with Entry of the Gladiators they were in ecstasy. Tommy rubbed his hands. “That’s it. Getting all revved up now, how about you, kid?”

Hank smiled. “Yeah. It’s magic, ain’t it?”

They both laughed heartily at that. When the music stopped they heard Sebastian go into his spiel. “Ladies and Gentleman—prepare yourselves for the best circus show you’ll ever see. . . ”

No hecklers tonight, well one only; some yokel showing off to his girlfriend. The boys could hear him making loud noises and acting like a real smart ass.

The boys got ready for their entrance. Sebastian liked them to come out first and greet the audience, talk to them and get a sense of what kind of folks they were. They liked it too because they enjoyed sniffing the air. People’s blood always smelled so different. It was amazing.

They locked eyes onto the heckler as he was still going strong.

“Could be worse,” Tommy said. “Could be a few of them.”

Just then the heckler called them both runts. Runts, they didn’t like. Runts did more than rankle. But the stupid bastard finally shut up when the clowns made their appearance.

There were three of them. They wore distinctive clown make up. One was sad—there were tears painted under his eyes and his drooping lips were done up artfully. He had learned makeup from another clown he killed and ate. Well, no one’s perfect.

The other two clowns were also uniquely made up. Happy was the jolly one. He had this big ass smile plastered across his face. Sometimes he had the remains of food stuck in the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, that ain’t lipstick, is it?”

The two other clowns would often tease him.

“Oh shit!” He’d invariably say. “I am a messy eater!”

He was; he often had bits of flesh and blood scattered all over his costume. Lou used to admonish him. In the last town Lou actually found a half-eaten eyeball stuck onto Happy’s oversized shoe. He gave it to him for that. Lou didn’t like to yell but Happy had to get it together.

Still, they remained friends.

The third clown’s make up was more unusual. He was the clowns’ clown. Dave was the one the other two would pretend to pick on. His make-up was very old fashioned. It was the way clowns were made up in mediaeval times.

All three began to respond to the audience, especially the children.

They’d make these exaggerated motions. They just mimed; they never spoke. One child had already been chosen by one of them because he was fat. Lou loved fat little boys, all dimply and doughy looking. The last boy he had eaten lasted a whole week! Boy oh boy that little tub of lard was tasty. Happy did him up in a special glaze.

Happy liked to cook.

“It’s gonna be a good show,” Lou said—sounding very upbeat. “I can feel it in my bones.”

That’s when the orchestra started up again; just a few notes, after which Sebastian introduced the trapeze act: the great Waldini and his wife.

These acts, from the trick rider and her horse to the trapeze couple, including the brass band as well as the lion tamer and lions, were odd looking, expressionless. They performed well enough though. It was only when you looked closely at them that there was a sense something was radically wrong, as in weird, fucking and odd.

Only one person noticed. He had seen the show a few times, following them from town to town throughout Ohio. He was studying the acts. Something wasn’t right about it; something just stunk about it. He didn’t know what it was, but he was determined to find out. It would make his career as a reporter, he felt sure.

He watched the lion tamer strut out. The guy was attired in a glittering, white outfit; pith helmet, whip and everything. The whip cracked as the tamer barked out commands. The lions growled a few times, nothing remarkable. In fact if anything, they looked bored. It seemed their growls and raised paws didn’t have a sense of realism which was most strange but then again, they had been conjured.

The midgets came out next. Dressed as always, very dapper. They wore make up, nothing too theatrical, or clownish. It was just enough to be interesting. Their faces were made up so that they looked like manikins. Their faces were white and their eyelids were lined in black. They wore lipstick and circles of rouge, too—their hair was slicked back like George Raft’s and they flirted a lot with the ladies. They seemed mischievous.

Actually they were interesting to watch because they were animated and lively. The young man didn’t think anything untoward about them or the clowns—not then.

*

They loved chow time. They ate around a big table in Sebastian’s trailer. It had been some movie star’s house car in the twenties. The rumor was it had been Mae West’s. Whatever the story, it was ace.


Everyone loved it particularly, Sebastian. In fact it was his home. He had his own bathroom and kitchen area and bunks too—like plush sofas they were.

The clowns always behaved themselves when they came in. They were always polite and made a real effort to be pleasant.

The boys (Tommy and Hank) were dressed well; they’d shower in the special shower tent before. They were very fastidious; much more so than the clowns. The clowns had to be reminded of personal hygiene periodically, but Sebastian didn’t mind. They were okay guys.

He smiled at the phrase. That was one of the 20th century expressions he loved.

They were all enthused about the town and the show and everyone started speaking at once. Sebastian had a few things to say but he bided his time. He’d save it for last.

He was grinning at them. His gaunt face and pronounced cheekbones gave him a skull-like look sometimes. He could have altered his appearance from the tall, imposing man he was but he didn’t.

Every so often he did, but only if he had to. At last he spoke. “I have a special menu for you guys tonight.” This he said as he revealed a beautiful roast.

The clowns were excited. “Dave said he smelled something cooking earlier. Didn’t you, Dave?”

Dave agreed. “I bet I know what it is!”

Happy and Lou nodded. “He’s been driving us nuts all day. Saying how he can’t wait to bite into a nice fat buttocks. Anyone we know, Sebastian?”

Sebastian started to answer but looked over at Tommy and Hank.

They were looking as though they felt ignored. “Now boys, no one’s forgotten about you.” He said as he handed them two tumblers. “This is fresh, it’s nowhere near clotted.”

They oohed and awed and sniffed the giant tumblers.

“Rich, ruby port! Might we know where that came from?”

Sebastian shook his finger in a good natured but teasing way.

“Don’t pry it’s rude. Let’s just say that heckler paid for calling you guys runts.”

Hank and Tommy clapped their little hands together. “Thank you!” they cried.

Dave wanted to know where the rest of him was.

“He’s been put away for tomorrow’s grub, is that okay?”

Happy and Lou were shaking their heads. “Dave, you gotta cut down on the calories. You’re going to get too fat for your clown suit!”

Tommy started to laugh which only inflamed Lou. Well the clowns and the midgets used to argue, coming to blows occasionally. Of course the midgets always won. They were little, but they were strong as vampires are.

Sebastian gently admonished them. He loved his boys as he called them. They had been tossed around from circus to circus. In the last place they had been, they were beaten constantly. When Sebastian saw them, they were almost dead.

He killed their tormenter, but by that time, they were both gone. He raised them up because he would not see them dead. When they rose up and realized what he had done, they cried. Vampires do that. Sebastian had seen it happen a lot.

He explained it all to them. “You’ll live forever, boys! You’ll never be afraid. You’ll never be harmed or frightened. Isn’t that good?”

Eventually they grew into their undead existence as vampires do.

That was just after the war in Europe. It was 1918 when they were turned.

Sebastian’s circus had grown quite a bit since then. There were the acts he put in. They weren’t real people or animals. They were creations of his sorcery. That was Sebastian’s story. Everyone in a circus has a story.

Tommy was teasing the clowns again. Why the midget picked on them was anybody’s guess. Sebastian didn’t like it. He felt sorry for them because they were life’s victims too, but in a different way.

The three of them were former mental patients. Yes sir, right out of Storeyville, Georgia. They had this sadist bastard of a doctor, Dr. Nichols who liked to do experiments on them. When they had enough of his hole drilling and failed (but painful) attempts at lobotomies—or was it just torture by another name—they escaped; walked right out of that house of horrors.

Sebastian always wondered when they became cannibals. He had asked them but they’d laugh and ‘say never you mind;’ although they did fess up to eating Dr. Nichols and two orderlies.

He told them that it didn’t matter. He said they’d have jobs and a place to stay as long as they liked. Of course they’d have to learn clown stuff. They were eager and in no time were performing perfectly.

Sebastian could see how much they looked up at him.

It was funny how they found one another. Sebastian caught them ripping open a family of four. The kids were nothing more than ribs and hair but these three guys were still gnawing away on the father and mother when Sebastian called out: “Hey, what are you doing?”

Whereupon the three threatened him. That was when he showed them. He had the remains of their meal rise up from the ground. Up this stuff went, all pieces of flesh and gore–spinning and turning—coming closer and closer to them!

They screamed but Sebastian only laughed and began to taunt them. First by having the gnawed parents begin to dance with one another.

It got so bad that the guys pleaded for him to stop. “What kinda shit is this? Who the hell are you?”

That was what he was waiting for. “I am Sebastian and I come from another place and time.” He told them how he had made a pact with Satan so that he could live forever. “It was easy—I gave up my soul. What the hell did I need it for? It was no use to me. Not during the Black Death it wasn’t. That plague killed one-third of Europe in the fourteenth century.”

He told them how he could raise the dead and make things move.
He often spoke about the many centuries he had lived through.

The midgets were fascinated by stories of the little people and Sebastian never disappointed them. He had a number of special people (he hated the word freaks) he had saved from one circus or sideshow over the years. He came to think of them as family.

*

Even now, these meals were special family dinners. Sebastian ate regular food but the others didn’t. The midgets only subsisted on blood whereas the clowns were meat eaters. Real meat eaters.

It was toward the end of the meal that Sebastian brought the subject up of the young man. That got their attention. In fact, Dave dropped the eye ball he was nibbling and Tommy nearly spilled a goblet of blood. Now that would have stained the table cloth.

“There’s this young man. I don’t know what his racket is, but I find him highly suspicious. I think we will have to deal with him soon.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“No shit.” Hank said.

Sebastian nodded. “The sooner we take care of him, the better.”

*

They found him talking to the lion tamer. It struck the clowns funny and the midgets too, but it didn’t make Sebastian laugh because he was too intent on his purpose.

“May I help you?”

The guy turned around and smiled, albeit nervously. “Is there anything wrong with him?” He asked gesturing toward the blanked-eyed lion tamer. “Is he in a stupor? I mean is he alright?”

Hank and Tommy sauntered up from behind Sebastian. “What’s it to you, bub?”

The man shrugged. “Nothing really,” he smiled, trying to appear casual. But when the three clowns suddenly appeared, he stood up to run.

Flight or fight.

However since it didn’t look like he’d get away, he tried to reason.
“I’m a reporter. . . I’d like to do a feature story on your circus.
That’s all. . . ”

“No kidding!” the clowns replied in unison. Then they all turned to look at Sebastian.

“We can’t afford any publicity. It’s just the way it is, the way it’s always been. Let me explain. . . ”

*

The last thing he saw were the teeth. Long, yellow teeth sharpened to a fine point. They were covered in his blood. He knew that because he felt so weak.


Still, he hadn’t been conscious most of the time they were feeding. And really he started to weaken when the midgets were draining him. They assured him they wouldn’t kill him though because the clowns hated dried-out food.

When they said that, he screamed. Naturally it didn’t help him.

Sebastian liked a good screamer, and so did his guys. After all, they worked hard to put on a good show and they liked some entertainment in return. Why not?

Sebastian waved his arms and the toy-like circus performers rose up from wherever they were: the lion tamer, the lions, the horse and rider, even the great Waldini and his wife. They rose as the toys they were, created by Sebastian’s magic.

He nodded toward the brass band to start playing. It was amazing. All those toys—obeying as they did. Sure enough, the circus music started, Entry of the Gladiators, Sebastian’s favorite.

The lively tune boomed out, masking the reporter’s agonized screams. In fact as he slipped into the great and vast beyond, he smiled because the closer he got to death the more he didn’t mind. And really, whatever came after this had to be a whole lot better... "

Copyright   ©  2013   Carole Gill

This story inspired my novel, Circus of Horrors 

AMAZON

The story first appeared in this best selling collection:

99 cents on offer! What Fred Missed Seeing!

Fred and his troupe have arrived at the circus. Everyone's pretty excited. The show opens in just a few days!
Excerpt:

"The newly hired performers started to arrive that afternoon. There were all sorts of folks, including dancing girls, very pretty and young looking, most of them. The clowns got to discussing the size of their tits and who had the best ass. Fred shook his head in a warning gesture. The clowns just laughed.

There was a Gorilla Lady—damned if she wasn’t all hairy looking. Fred couldn’t believe she was a fake. Maybe that hair is real. Dexter, the muscle man, looked like a nice guy, tall and built like a mountain.

Don and Joe stood with Lucy, which annoyed Fred. They looked too chummy for his taste. But any jealousy melted away when Lucy’s arm shot up and she waved! She hurried over. “Aren’t they all marvelous? Look, here comes the Wildman.”

Fred caught sight of The Wildman of Zanzibar. He didn’t look very wild or imposing. He certainly didn’t look like a cannibal. Fred didn’t think he was; probably just more of Joe’s bullshit.

“They’re all old timers. We worked the circuit before,” Lucy explained.

Bob and his dogs were even there. Some kids snuck in and Bob was talking to them. There was a little girl with ribbons he was making a fuss over.

Mabel came out and greeted everyone. She was a fine looking lady and boy did Tommy look proud of her. She knew everyone.

“It’s like one family,” Fred said, and it was.

He knew then if he had his way he’d stay with them forever. They were nice to Old Pa and seemed to really be one big family.

Tommy had organized a big cook out—kind of a welcome for all the performers. During the event, he made a great speech. There were great eats and the dancing girls came out later wearing scanty costumes. Alice looked at their svelte, shapely bodies. Poor Alice.

The girls started to do the hootchy kootchy. Then a shimmy, which got the clowns all riled up. They whistled and clapped. Fred knew he’d have to speak to them about not doing anything stupid.

The others, including the Gorilla Lady, sat with Lester and Don—but Lucy came over to sit with Fred. She was excited about Alice and Al when Fred told her about the ring. Fred wondered if she had ever been engaged. He was afraid to ask her though.

They all had a fair amount to drink, despite Prohibition. Tommy kept quite a store. “And we don’t worry about any raids either—I know the right people and money always talks,” he said. “Ain’t that right, Bob?”

Bob the dog man gave him a funny look. “Sure is, boss.”

Fred wanted to ask Lucy about Bob but she was talking to Al and Alice. When Old Pa started to snore, he bid everyone a goodnight. “I best take my dad back now.”

They waved him off. But he thought Lucy’s wave was special, at least he hoped it was.

He put his old father to bed, whistling as he did. “It feels good to be happy,” he said. “Don’t it, Old Pa?”

No answer because the old man had fallen asleep. Fred fell into a deep sleep. The distant sound of laughter and talk from the cook out lulled him. It sounded comforting.

But because he was asleep, he never saw Tommy’s trailer door open. Nor did he see Mabel step outside, naked as a jaybird. Tommy laughed with glee when two huge wings appeared. “I love when you do that!” he cried.

She laughed too as she blew him a kiss and flew away. Up into the sky she soared, like a giant bird. She came back later—holding a child in her arms..."

END OF EXCERPT

AMAZON

"This is horrific in the best way! It is extreme ... and disturbing."

"Riveting. Imaginative. Chilling. Fantastical."

"Wonderful horror with a side order of ribs."

"Outstanding story line and strong characters. I felt like I was right there and a part of the sideshow.

"An awesome little creepfest!"

"Never going to the circus again!"

"True horror!"

“Scary from beginning to end! Sit back and read your way into a horror filled tale! Enjoy!” 

FREE READS!

It's better to drown sometimes!

Beacon 

Zombies wanting to change, to better themselves--what's wrong with that?!

UNDEAD ANONYMOUS 

A most unusual circus! Discover their secrets! 

THE CIRCUS STORY THAT INSPIRED A NOVEL! 

About Lucy

Lucy, was one of the performers. Fred Liked her right away. Of course he didn't know anything about her...

"Lucy. Hell yeah, she was nice, pretty. And when she spoke, she reminded him of home.

He returned to the Big Top. She was just finishing rehearsals when he waved to her. “Mr. Dodger, hello.”

They chatted for a bit, then they went to dinner together. He didn’t let any stares bother him. Lucy laughed. “People razz folks around here. Kind of how things are. You know fellow workers and that—like to tease.”

Fred knew it was true. He never enjoyed dumplings and stew more than he had sitting there with this pretty girl. They spoke about where they were from and how they came to be in the circus. He didn’t want to leave but they finally had to.

They decided to walk along the Midway. It was great walking with her, smelling her perfume. Fred nearly closed his eyes. She was a fine young lady, not a whore. That’s what he needed. Doc was right.

It seemed the most natural thing when he reached for her hand. And when he took her to her hut and said good night, he kissed her. But not before he asked her permission.

It was almost a chaste kiss. “I enjoyed that, Lucy. I mean the walk…”

She laughed softly and it was like music.

She watched him walk away and then went into her hut. Joe and Don were already in bed waiting for her.

"Riveting. Imaginative. Chilling. Fantastical."

"Wonderful horror with a side order of ribs."

"Never going to the circus again!"

"True horror!"

"The circus you really don't want to join."

AMAZON 

WARNING: ADULT HORROR-GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL SCENES 

CHAPTER 2: CIRCUS OF HORRORS!

CHAPTER 1  IF YOU MISSED IT!

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3


Fred was pleased to hear Old Pa snoring. He had fallen asleep in an instant. He had his usual pee in the pot kept for such purposes and was now away with the fairies. Fred smiled. He had loved that expression as a child.

He began thinking of his people. They didn’t mind life on the road, the tents or anything. They were used to a lot worse. He pitied each one of them. What a strange group they were.

His dad, Charlie, had only been in a few sideshows back in England. He didn’t have what it took, though. He’d tried clowning and juggling—managing too when given a few chances, but none of it worked. Charlie wasn’t the circus type.

He did stay with the clowning but there were reasons for that. He liked being anonymous. And he liked making kids laugh. He was a great dad despite his troubled past. Fred could remember how Old Pa had been the only good thing in his life.

“I’m all you got, lad. Sorry.”

Fred could barely remember his mother, which was just as well. He had loved her, he knew that, but then she died and he didn’t like to think of it.
His dad had a rough time raising him. It couldn’t have been easy.

They lived in a lot of places; London, mainly, although there were many other places they called home for a while. But, London was the place he remembered most.

He had the vague memory of his dad having a kind of shop where he sold seconds—well, more like tenths and twelfths—old clothes, pots, hardware. As he grew up and matured, Fred suspected much of it was stolen. Still, the coppers didn’t care about petty stuff like that. So his old man was left alone.

If he thought back to his childhood, he recalled it in sounds and smells; the sounds of the organ grinder, his father’s voice as he hawked his wares. The memories were not all pleasant. There were the stinks too, the odors of unwashed bodies—whiffs of vomit and urine in alleys and doorways.

His dad tried to protect him from the ugliness of the place; the angry shouts that signaled a fight that often turned lethal. At one point, he told him he was taking him away. America was to be their destination.

Fred was thrilled when he heard that; he couldn’t have been more than ten. He bombarded his dad with questions he couldn’t answer. All the man kept saying was it would be good to start over, to begin afresh. Neither one of them could wait to leave.

The day finally came. The ship was called Sea Queen or something similar, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t recall much of the voyage. He did remember how crowded it was. They were crammed into something called steerage. Again, there were bad smells, vomit mainly. He recalled his father mumbling, ‘filthy pigs’ more than once.

Going on deck was heaven. His father told him about ships and sailing times. Yes, Dad had been a sailor once, long ago in his youth. He had been to most places but never to America.

Fred recalled sleeping badly and trying to eat, bread mostly—the only thing he could keep down. Two weeks like that, and he ended up hobbling, weak on his feet. Then came the sounds of whistles and men calling to one another, and his father’s excited voice urging him on. 

“We’re here, Son!”

And so they were. They saw the Statue of Liberty and Fred cried at the sight. He had never seen anything that grand. But there were things to do. His father warned him. “We ain’t outta the woods yet, boy. We have to clear this place and then we’re okay!”

There were queues and officials to see, questions and more questions and examinations, too. People were tagged and told where to go. At last, after what seemed like an eternity, they were put into a launch with a lot of people like themselves. That was it. They had made it.

His first impression of New York had been one of amazement. The city teemed with great buildings and masses of people and not all of them poor, either. No, this was something else. The mix was different; sure there toffs, loads of them. And yes, the poor were ignored same as they were back in England—yet his dad said a man stood more of a chance in this big city.

If he had hoped in his ten year old naivety to stay somewhere nice, he was in for a shock. They didn’t. No, it was cheap lodgings near the river front. Hell’s Kitchen they called it, and Hell’s kitchen it was.

Fred sighed. That was enough of the past to remember now. He was tired and needed to think not of the past, but of the future. What lay ahead? Plans had to be made.

If only he were younger. He was no spring chicken at forty-two. Still, he wasn’t ready to die yet. And really, he didn’t look as old as he felt. He wasn’t entirely grey, just a bit at the temples. Of course, he had circles under his eyes and the glow of youth had long since vanished. But there were years yet, weren’t there? Sometimes he tried not to think of his own questions and this was one such time.

They had just beat it the hell out of their last stop—that fair in Jonesboro, Arkansas. Why’d the clowns have to kill that nosey kid? He and Happy had a huge flare up over that one, stupid bastard, slitting the boy’s throat; he was only twelve. Happy said he’d be trouble and Fred told him off. He called him every name he could think of. He finally told him to take care of the corpse.

“No problem.” Happy laughed and handled it like nothing ever happened. The clowns were very efficient. They had enough practice. They knew how to get rid of a body. Of course, it would have to be cut up first. Pig farms were good, as well as swamps—take the corpse’s clothes off, burn them, and Bob’s your uncle.

The boys, however, were not happy with the moonlight flit; it was one of the few times they were critical of the clowns. Al said they were a real pain in the ass sometimes and Hank agreed. Baby Alice was crying because she had liked the fair.

“Who knows where we’ll go, Fred, but I have faith in you,” she’d told him. She was all dimpled when she said that and Fred smiled. He even kissed her hand. He liked the smell of her; she always smelled of soap and Johnson’s baby powder.

They were soon off, the bus and truck loaded. Pop had to pee constantly so they stopped and lost a hell of a lot of time pee stopping.

This was the second night they had parked here. The checks Fred cashed in town, he’d had for a while. They weren’t stolen or anything. 

They were proper checks, payment for his and his company’s expenses.
The boss man was surprised they were going, but Fred used his head. He told him that his ex-wife had served him with papers adding that she was still trying to soak him over a property sale.

“She took it all when we divorced—I don’t know what she wants now.”
“Yeah,” the boss man said. “You can’t figure women.”

He wished Fred luck and watched them chewing on his stogie as they pulled away. “Our lives are not easy. Take the good with the bad and don’t take shit from anyone!” he called out after them.

That was a certainty, Fred thought.

His father cried out in his sleep, and Fred went to sit by the old man. His eyes filled with tears. “You haven’t any pleasures left have you, Old Pa?” he said. “I best let you look through your souvenirs. That always perks you up.”

It was funny because even though his son was certain the old man didn’t remember where any of the souvenirs came from, he still seemed to enjoy looking at the stuff.

(END OF CHAPTER)

"Wonderful Horror with a side order of ribs."

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"A true horror tale...Be prepared to be scared!"

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READ FIRST FOUR CHAPTERS OF CIRCUS OF HORRORS!

CHAPTER 1

The vehicle was a beat up well-travelled 1929 Ford school bus. It had been painted a bright red and said ‘Fred Dodger’s Circus’ on the side. Amid peeling paint, the image of ecstatic clowns was a bit pathetic looking. Curtains hung on each of the windows. Baby Alice had sewn them; now she sat outside with her pals waiting for the meat to be cooked.

An old man, somewhat senile in appearance and actions, sat licking his lips. His son, the owner/manager, had gone to town on business in his pickup.

The bus had withstood a lot of wear and tear. Well, it would have—what with three clowns, two midgets, and one fat lady riding it.

Al drove the bus. With him being three feet tall, there were adaptions to the driver’s seat. This, the manager had seen to and Al was pleased. His lady friend, the huge Baby Alice, sat near him. Her seat had also been adapted in order to accommodate her girth.

None of the troupe disliked riding in the bus or camping out in tents. The weather occasionally made it difficult for them, though. Once, near Tupelo, Mississippi, the bus had to be dragged out by the pickup. The manager had extensive experience in such matters and everyone was grateful he did.

Fred Dodger loved his people and looked after them very well, and they knew it. He had explained about leaving them to go to town in order to get some money. They said fine and decided to have a cook out.

Any car or truck driving past would have been amused at the scene. Clearly, they were circus people—carnies—with the clowns in full make-up, Alice who weighed just under two hundred and fifty pounds, and Hank and Al, both three feet tall.

Hank got to arguing with Al about the progress of the meat being cooked. When it was at last ready, Al served it up. The old man got his first out of respect. He dug right in. Baby Alice did the same, as did the clowns. Al and Hank had a salami they swiped from a deli. They weren’t going to eat what everyone else was eating. They weren’t cannibals.

They spoke while they chewed their salami. “I have to hand it to you,” Al said. “It makes for a perfect solution—cooking them guys the way you did.”

Hank agreed. “Three sailors, think of it!”

“They deserved it. Didn’t deserve no better!”

“True, but there were three of them. We’re just lucky we didn’t have far to take them.”

“Yeah, imagine them snooping close to us. I wonder what Fred would have done.”

“He wouldn’t have liked their taunts.”

The sailors had insulted everyone. Baby Alice was reduced to tears and the old man had been pushed when he objected to their language. Then they started in on the boys. Yes, boys—despite being 38 and 40, Al and Hank thought of themselves as that: kids, in trouble. The popular Katzenjammer Kids comic duo had nothing on them.

The boys didn’t take shit from anyone. What were three more big mouthed louts to them? Al whipped out his razor. The dispute was settled in five bloody minutes. Where the sailors had been nasty fools taunting those they saw as misfits, they soon became blood-drenched corpses, their throats cut so deep, their heads dangled.

“Good thing the boss ain’t here.”

Al agreed. He knew they owed a lot to the clowns.

The clowns took care of everything—they cut them up into manageable parts, then basted them with some Heinz sauce, their favorite.

It took all day for the meat to be ready. When they could finally taste it, the clowns were proud and Baby Alice said it was the best she’d had in a long time. Hank made lemonade. It was luxurious, sitting out in the early dusk of a cool June evening.

Most of the meat had been eaten when Fred came back. “Smells good. Any left for me?”

The boys looked at one another. Fred nodded toward his father who was still chomping away on what looked like a couple of fingers. When he walked toward the man, the boys started to worry big time. Snatching a thumb out of his hand, Fred shouted, “Christ Almighty! I warned you guys!”

He had and more than once. Al started to explain about the sailors, but Fred was having none of it. “I don’t like my father eating human flesh! That’s my main gripe. Okay?”

The boys nodded. “It won’t happen again.” They looked sincere. Fred doubted that they were. “Just don’t let me see you do it again.”

Total hypocrisy, but Fred did feel sorry for them.

Old Pa had begun to doze. “Come along; time to turn in, old ’un.”

The old man found it hard to stand. His joints cracked and he shook his head. “These old bones,” he said as the half eaten thumb fell to the ground. Alice glanced at it and giggled.

Fred led his dad toward the pickup. No tent for Old Pa. Not at his age. Fred had a nice, cozy, little box-like enclosure he constructed himself for them both to sleep in, in the pickup.

“I got it all accomplished in town, Dad. Got them checks cashed. We should be fine for a while.”

The old man nodded. “I’m tired out…”

“I know. That’s why you’re going to be sleeping in a sec!”

His people watched them go. They liked being with Fred and his father. It was like having a family. Better really, considering how they were raised.

Al and Hank grew up in orphan asylums—graduating eventually to mental hospitals. Baby Alice lived with her father who beat her. She ran away to live with a succession of men who did the same. Her best day came when she started to work freak shows as the fat lady. People were nuts, fucked up in one way or another. She made extra money on the side for those patrons that wanted a flash—a buck to flash her naked, oversized jugs and a buck fifty for a feel. If they wanted more, and some of them did, the price went as high as five dollars. That hadn’t happened since Fred hired her.

Besides, she had a boyfriend now. She and Al were a couple. How the two managed it, Fred had no idea, but from the look on Al’s face, he was sure something had been figured out. Over time, a relationship had grown between the two of them. Which was nice, Fred thought. It would keep them both on the straight and narrow.

After tucking the old man in, Fred emerged and gave the clowns an angry stare. “I don’t like the cannibalism. I don’t like it at all.”

The clowns started to argue with him. Happy was the most vociferous. Before the old man went senile, he used to ask him why he let the clowns join up. Fred would reply he felt sorry for them. How do you not feel sorry for three men who hide behind garish clown makeup because they know it’s less frightening for people than their own faces?

Each had been cut up and scarred when they were little. They came from an orphanage where they were burned with cigarettes and cut up with razor blades, leaving their faces in horrific condition. They got the idea of the clown makeup from an old carny they had befriended. He taught them how to be clowns and showed them how to cover their scars up. When he applied the cooling pancake, they giggled. Jocko had been their friend until he died. It was through him they discovered the carny life.

“I think we pissed him off,” Noble said, meaning Fred.

“Can’t please everybody.” Danny shrugged.

“What am I going to do with you guys?”

“Love us?” Happy offered.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3  

Chapter 4

REVIEWS:

"I'm never going to the circus again!"
5 stars!

"Wonderful Horror with a side order of ribs."

5 stars!

"A true horror tale...Be prepared to be scared!"

5 stars! 

AMAZON