i'm nobody. who are you?

“I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!”

‘i’m nobody. who are you?’

“There’s nothing to be scared of…”

Isabelle felt her sister's hand squeeze tight as she was pulled along behind them. She could just see the back of her fathers greying hair, slicked back and tucked beneath a weathered John Deere hat, the distinct of green - now a dull shade - a memory of what it once was.

She pulled herself closer to her sisters side, the one place she always felt safe. Jane was always the brave one.

“Guess your weight!”

Clanging bells, whistles, and the call of the carnies kept her captivated as she and her sister trailed just behind their parents. This was their first time and subsequently the last carnival they would ever go to as a family. Through the eyes of Jane, it was a wonder. For Isabelle…

She shrieked as a pair of clowns stepped into their path, blocking them from their parents. Jane stepped defensively in front of her, she could feel her grip tighten as she pushed past the pair. Isabelle looked back, the exaggerated smile smeared across their face merely a front for the frown they really wore. 

“See?” Jane said, smiling her way, “Nothing to be afraid of…just a couple of clowns.”

Isabelle did her best to smile back. She wanted to show her sister she was brave - just as brave as Jane could be. It was fortunate then that Jane didn’t see those eyes that still stared their way as they walked their way through the crowd.

Smile and be brave.

“Hello.”

The scene opens up. The sisters stand side by side outside of the rundown tent. Branching red scars - the result of the rest Jane recently took - run along her pale skin, tracing the veins. A chain runs from a collar around her neck to a matching bracelet held in her sister's hands. The Sound of Death - her white robes flowing around her - steps forward. 

“Have you heard her name? Not too long ago, she was the queen. Burned out of her throne by two-thousand volts - but she can never be separated from her name. She is the Voice of the Victim - she is Jane.”

“Hallowed is her name now, immortal and synonymous with pain and punishment. She is not only that which she inflicts, but also,” she begins to slowly tug on the chain, pulling her sister towards her, “that which she is willing to absorb. It takes a great man to withstand her fury and an even greater man to calm her flame. Mr. Hopkins was successful in escaping his fate - the fallen man stands once more.”

Isabelle reaches forward, brushing her long black hair - now with bright, white streaks rubbing along the sides - back. She smiles up towards her before turning back to the frame.

“And now you, Mister Roosevelt, you are now tethered to that fate - the minutes, the seconds - slowly counting down until that time…and that place. It’s a pity - as remarkable as your friends have been thus far - for them to find that their strongest bond will soon be broken: beaten before he’s even begun.”

The Sound of Death lets the chain drop to the ground, her fingers slipping into the collar around her sister's neck.

“Can you feel it, Chester? That weight around your throat - slowly causing it to shut?” she closes her eyes, smiling to herself, “The beating of your heart as you gasp for a breath that will never come. The world slowly being drown out as you strain and struggle for breath. The intoxicating feeling that suffocation brings.”

“Step right up!” 

The man in the bright red cloak shouted, waving a wand in front of himself dramatically. He stood beside a a small wagon with a woman who had a hand tucked into her hip. She held out an arm, letting him drape the cape over it as he continued with his patter.

“See something you’ve never seen before. A show - well, we want to entertain but even better, we want to wow!” His arm waved out wide and a pair of pigeons flapped out to the far corner of the tent. The crowd began to respond with growing intensity, “we want to fill you with wonder!” 

Two trapeze artists drop from above, flipping just above him before catching the others crossbeam and swinging out of sight. “And most importantly!”

He lowers his voice to an almost hushed tone. “We want you…to tell the world what you saw today” 

On cue, the cage is pulled open and a massive Lion leaps out. Isabelle screams, her hands covering her eyes. Her mom pulls her towards her chest, gently rubbing along her spine. She peaks through, just in time to see the lion being led away.

“It’s okay,” her mother says soothingly, “Its just a show.”

Isabelle nods, looking over towards her sister. Jane has a hotdog in one hand and a stick of cotton candy in the other. She was smiling - she was brave. With a hug, Isabelle pushed herself away and focused back towards the ringmaster, now hovering his head just inside the monster's jaws.

“Even bullies can be brave.”

Jane Doe now walks ahead of her sister through a dirt parking lot, the worn down big top hovering in the horizon. She shambles, dragging one foot along, while the Sound of Death almost floats.

“Though we are led to believe that mere bravery can win a battle, it’s often won with force. Forging ahead through fire means little to a man made of straw, so shouldn’t we see our challenges just the same? Not as something we can overcome with feeling, but on how intensely we feel the flame? After all, what would it matter if you forced yourself through the fire if you couldn’t stay the course.”

The Sound of Death shakes her head remorsefully, looking down at the path as she moves.

“What is this win worth to you, Mr Roosevelt? Can you take as much as you give? You’ve seen exactly how much it takes to put Jane down, but still - she stands. How far then will be our bravery get you? Just within her grasp.”

Jane makes a groaning noise.

“Greatness is determined not by what you’re willing to face or what you can try to survive. It’s about success, determination, and drive. Do you have it in you to be great, Mr. Roosevelt or are you just out to be brave?”

“No matter what, Mr. Roosevelt - just smile.”

The sisters step past the camera, down towards the paved road that leads away from the abandoned grounds. The scene fades to black.

And try to be brave.

“Did you girls have a good time?”

“Yes daddy!” Isabelle and Jane said, giggling gleefully as the last strains of sugar rushed through their veins. Jane slid next to her sister, opening her hand to show off a small stash of skittles she had managed to hide away. Hungrily, Isabelle scooped one up.

“Jane!” Their mother said in the dark car - their father walked around the front towards the drivers seat, “No more candy! You’ll have nightmares!”

“Yes mom…” they moaned. Isabelle slapped her hand across her mouth to prevent herself from laughing as Jane rebelliously popped a pair into her cheeks. Just as she crunched through, Isabelle couldn’t help but laugh causing them both to get a stern glare as soon as the interior light lit back up. 

“What did I do?” their father asked. After a moment of silence, he shrugged his shoulders and fired up the engine. He took his time pulling through the dirt lot -  letting each car that wanted in with a wave.  By the time they reached to road, Jane's eyes were starting to close so she slipped the skittles into her sisters hand, slumping against her. Isabelle picked through the remaining skittles - locating first the green one, working her way towards red. A poke on her knee made her look up. 

Her dads hand was held out, upside down. She assessed her stock and deposited the remaining three orange and a purple into his paw. Sneaking a wink over his shoulder, he shook them once before tilting them into his mouth. Isabelle mimicked the motion and dropped the last of the stash into her mouth, chewing proudly along with her father who was now focused back on the road.

Isabelle watched her father as he drove, his hands firmly at ten-and-two. He was a safe driver - that’s what all the records had said. She watched him squint.

“Come on - your lights!” He flashed his high beams twice, holding his left hand in front of him to block some of the brightness. He stayed in his lane - that’s what the records said.

He pushed the horn, his wife sitting upright. She muttered his name. There was just nothing he could do - at least - that’s what all the records said.

“Come on buddy, your ligh-“

The last thing Isabelle felt was her sister's arms wrapping around her - just as the two cars collided. 

“How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!”