He caught a woman as she hurtled out, screaming at the top of her lungs. “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?”
“I saw myself as a rotting corpse in there!” she shouted.
“Rats were eating my face!” yelled a tall gentleman as he burst out after.
“And I had snakes bursting out of my guts!”
“I had three heads! And they were tearing bits of flesh out of each other!
“That’s not supposed to happen!” cried Wilkie. He rushed back to Bus Boy and Steam Saw. “Keep everyone out of the maze! It’s not working property!” He hurtled across to the Big Top, hoping to catch Professor Abbacus between shows. Fortunately the Water Wonders were on, and Professor Abbacus was shutting down his Jacob’s ladder. He greeted the nearly hysterical Wilkie with his usual good humour. “What the hell d’you want?”
“There’s something wrong with the Maze, Professor!”
“Surely not! I only reset it this morning because half the mirrors were out of phase! What now?”
“People are seeing bad things.”
“People always see bad things in there. They’re supposed to see bad things!”
“Not like this! These are really bad things. Like maggots and chest-bursting snakes and rotting corpses eating each other.”
“Some people have no stomach.” But Abbacus came with Wilkie to the Mirror Maze, where Steam Saw and Busboy were helping the last of the white-faced visitors out of the maze. One woman had fainted, and Steam Saw was awkwardly trying to wake her. Someone else was leaning against the Haunted House wall, throwing up. “Ugh. I see what you mean,” growled Abbacus. “Make way, make way – coming through.” He marched up to the entrance and yanked the curtain aside to reveal the entrance mirror. He felt around the outside of the mirror and undid some catches, removing the big pane of glass to reveal a tangle of pipes and cables. No sign of an opening whatsoever. Some patrons who’d recovered tried to get a closer look, but were gently shooed away by Wilkie and the bouncers.
Abbacus stared at the mess for several minutes, then he snapped his fingers. “Ah, I see the problem! I must have nudged this while I was resetting the mirrors.” He pointed to a large dial with a needle pointing to “Maximum Terror”. He spun it back around so it pointed to “Spine Tingling”.
A Week in the Life of Victoria-7
They call me Victoria-7. That’s because I am seven people. I am the Vampiress, Lady Frankenstein, the Wolf Woman, the Swamp Girl, Amuna, Arachnora and the Invisible Woman. But deep down, I am just Victoria. I may have seven different bodies, and seven different personalities, but in my heart, I am still Victoria. Well … in my heart I am Violet, but that’s a name I haven’t used for … a hundred years now.
Are you confused now?
If you are, try being me. It took me many years to get used to all these personalities. When I go to sleep at night, I don’t know who I’ll be in the morning. I can’t make any plans or promises because whoever I become might just throw them all out of the water. About the only rule I can rely on is that I won’t be the same person twice in a row.
My mother’s cursed necklace is to blame. Each of its seven beads represents an aspect of her deepest desires. She was unable to remove it during her lifetime. It vanished from her throat when she took her last breath as the Invisible Woman, aged 694 – and reappeared around mine. Now I must bear the Gypsies’ wrath until my own dying day. If only she’d heeded their advice and had herself absolved of sin before putting it on.
My mother was Lady Annabel Hollingworth. She died in 1732. I am her only child, Violet. In my quest to get the necklace removed, I joined the Circus Infinitus. But although the Ringmaster and Professor have examined the necklace, they cannot give me any answers. Its dark magic is ancient and beyond their understanding.
Today is Monday, and I am the Vampiress. I am regal and powerful, the most beautiful of my forms. I wear lace and velvet, and my hair is as black as a raven’s wing, falling to my backside. I can become a wolf, a bat, a cloud of mist. I am stronger than X, the Strongman, and faster than Felina. I bewitch everyone I meet, and even the Ringmaster with his phenomenal mental barriers, is not entirely immune to my charms. When I appear he comes to me, despite whoever he might be with at the time. One day I will beguile him enough so he will finally reveal his secrets to me.
However, as the Vampiress I cannot go out in sunlight, and must spend the daylight hours either inside the Big Top, or my own tent. I also need blood to survive, and there is precious little of that around the Circus. The Ringmaster’s blood is poison to me, I cannot take sustenance from zombies and Felina refuses to let me near the animals. Only after the sun goes down can I fly out to hunt, and own the night. Every time I wear this form I wish I could continue as the Vampiress forever. I could rule by the Ringmaster’s side as his equal.
But at midnight, just when I feel my strongest, I am suddenly overcome by exhaustion, and I have to rest. Then, when I wake the next morning, I am someone new.
On Tuesday I am the Wolf Woman. They call me the Wolf Woman of Borneo. I am six and a half feet tall, muscular and hairy, with a powerful jaw and pointed ears. I can rip a man limb from limb. When I’m in the mood, I let myself be exhibited for amusement. But usually I’m restless, especially when we appear near small country towns, and I see wooded hills where I can hunt. I like to hunt. In this form I can run on four legs as quickly as two. I can leap great distances and bring down animals several times my size with my powerful claws and teeth.
I especially like to roam with Felina and Suresh. She enjoys the sport just as much as I. I also enjoy her company, for when I am the Wolf Woman she is my kindred spirit. She knows how it feels to stalk prey, the hunger for fresh meat boiling in the blood, the thrill of the chase across wild hills, fresh grass beneath the paws. It matters not whether we are pursuing a hare or an elk – the joy is in the hunting because even if we return hungry, we always find plenty of meat at the circus.
Sometimes, after a particularly successful kill, Felina and I make love in the grass, under the stars, and afterwards I feel at peace with the world. It would be wonderful to stay wild and free like this forever, enjoying life as it was meant to be.
But, like always, as the midnight hour draws near, I feel that awful lethargy come over me, and I must return to the circus. No matter how hard I fight sleep, it always comes, no matter what I eat or drink to keep myself awake.
And then I wake as someone new.
On Wednesday I am Amuna the Mummy. In this form I always feel cold, no matter how blazing the sun. I cannot even get warm near the engines.
In this form I allow myself to be exhibited so people can gasp and stare at my leathery skin, drawn tight across my protruding bones. They stare and point, and when I rise from my sarcophagus with a theatrical moan and lurch towards them, they scream with delight and run away. I am hideous, but regal and impressive. I am several times stronger than the average human and I possess dark powers. I feel the blackness within me, residing with the cold, and I know if I so want, I could unleash a plague of Biblical proportions. Once, when the Circus appeared by the seaside, I walked upon warm sand and felt the cold seep from my limbs for the first time. I dropped beneath the sand, becoming a part of it, and felt warmer than I had since …. ever. But still not warm enough. The only place I will thaw out completely is beneath a hot desert.
Still, I could control the sand, much to the amazement of visitors, creating fantastic sand-sculptures as big as houses.
But I am so lonely in this form. So desperately lonely. I don’t desire a lover – I doubt I could perform in this hard, dried-out body. But I would like company. So few people feel they can talk to me like this.
When the midnight hour finally draws near, I begin to warm up. And I welcome sleep when it comes like a feather quilt in winter time.
On Thursday I wake as Arachnora the Spider Queen. I am a human-sized spider with four human arms, four spider legs and a spider’s big round backside. I can crawl up wall
s and across ceilings. I can command insects and see the world through their many faceted eyes. When I am in control, all it takes for me to whip up a flea circus for the audience’s entertainment is a few seconds of concentration. I can even spin a web large enough to entrap a horse. The threads are so sticky they can bind planks of wood together.
In this form I also like to hunt. But Felina steers well clear of me, because I don’t hunt like her. I pounce, and liquefy my kills with my saliva. Felina finds me disturbing. But I don’t worry about her opinion when I am like this. There are plenty of others who desire my bizarre company, such as the acrobatic Limboni triplets. Even the Ringmaster has enjoyed being ensnared within my silky threads. Not even he could break them!
I could remain as the Spider Queen, enjoying a truly three-dimensional world, but when sleep comes for me, I must surrender.
On Friday I wake dry-skinned and desperate for water. Even before I am fully awake, I realise that I am the Swamp Girl; green, scaly, with fins and webbed fingers and toes. I rush across to the pool in the Water Wonders arena and dive in. Immediately warm water soothes my skin, and I join the Fiji mermaids who welcome my arrival. Even though they are artificial creations, made from monkeys stitched to fishtails and granted life by the Immortality Machine, they feel I am their mother. They swim around me, screeching high-pitched cries, and we play until the shows start. Then we perform for the audience. I have a special acrobatic routine worked out and we leap through hoops, dive from high platforms, perform somersaults and dance in the water. I have so much fun time just flies by.
Between shows I can leave the water, moistened and refreshed. I visit Felina. She enjoys my company, even though I am cold-blooded. Compared to some of my other forms, as the Swamp Girl I am at least alive. I cannot go out with her to hunt, but when we appear beside the sea, we romp in the waves together, flipping fish onto the sand. She likes me in this form because she can take control.
As the fateful hour approaches, I feel my exhaustion more keenly in this body – a self-defence mechanism to stop me from falling asleep beneath the waves. I have enough time to heave myself out of the pool and splash back to my private tent. Even so, I don’t want to soak my bed and invariably fall asleep on the floor. Thus, when I wake next, I am usually in a bad mood!
On Saturday I am Lady Frankenstein. Or Mrs Frankenstein. The other circus folk haven’t reached a consensus about what they want to call me. Not that I really care. In this form I am quite tall and scary, with white skin and jet black hair streaked with grey. I wear a white shroud for a dress. I may not be beautiful, but I am certainly striking. Even though I am undead, I don’t suffer from my passions like the Vampiress, or the cold like Amuna. I feel as though my brain is larger, more powerful. I understand so many things. I help Professor Abbacus with the machines and comprehend every word he tells me. Of all my bodies, he tolerates this one the most – in that he doesn’t tell me to clear off the moment he sees me!
The Professor might be able to create zombies, but I have the power to create crossbreed creatures, such as the Fiji mermaids, and all the weird and wonderful monsters in our Carnival of Freaks. They don’t emerge from the Immortality Machine as clumsy, barely animated beasts, but lively creatures, as quick and vital as their once-living forms. Visitors marvel at my Owlbat, the catdog and the winged pig which can actually hover for short periods. The sign above him says “And Pigs Might Fly!”
I enjoy this body and the great wit it gives me. I don’t want to return to other forms, such as the ever-hungry Vampiress and the thick Wolf Woman. I like being smart.
But when midnight comes, I cannot resist…
And on Sunday I wake and find that I am no-one. The blankets billow over an invisible body. I am the Invisible Woman, and apart from the ability to be completely unseen, I am human. Completely and fully human. As strong and smart as an average woman. Modesty dictates that I must wear clothes, so I cover myself in thick robes, hiding my face beneath bandages like Professor Abbacus. I feel like a fool. But the Ringmaster occasionally calls on my special abilities to help when stealth is required. And I sometimes perform in magic acts. But even though the Vampiress frequently enjoys the Ringmaster’s company, he looks right through me … so to speak!
In the body of a modest, Victorian woman, I am far too shy to approach the Ringmaster with anything but formality. I sit quietly in my room, rehearsing what I want to say over and over again. But the words never come out. I feel if maybe, just maybe, I had a face I could communicate properly. But I’ve tried wigs and layers of greasepaint, and for a brief while I rejoice at the outline of my face, how it used to be all those years ago.
But my eyes are hollow sockets to blackness, and when I open my mouth, there is only the same darkness. My lips have no thickness and I realise that all I have done is create a shell.
This form frightens me the most.
Goril-Ho-Tep
The famous Baker Street Detective took only a few minutes to examine the scene at the British Museum. His practiced eye swept over the smashed glass on the floor, the shreds of ancient bandage, the scuff-marks and muddy boot-prints near the doorway, the overturned wooden barriers and velvet ropes. “A child could figure this one out,” he declared. “I don’t know why you’re wasting my time with this sort of petty thievery.”
“Petty thievery? This was the highlight of Lord Cawley’s collection!” exclaimed the Proprietor of the British Museum, who was standing near the doorway repeatedly mopping the sweat from his brow. “He will have my head if the culprit is not found!”
Two policemen also present shuffled uncomfortably and exchanged glances. “Humour us, Detective,” said the older of the pair, a paragon of patience. “Explain your conclusion.”
“Well, the boot-prints were made by two very large, heavy men. One caught his jacket on the edge here, leaving a shred of it behind.” The Detective collected a small piece of cloth from a splinter of the broken cabinet. “A piece of an army great-coat. They both slogged through some thick mud before coming here.” He collected some and sniffed it. “Not filth from the streets. Fresh, with grass in it. From Hyde Park.” He wasn’t speculating. He knew. “Over here – a woman’s bare footprints. But she didn’t help. She didn’t move past this point. She simply watched.” The Detective crossed the room.
“What woman walks around barefoot?” exclaimed the Museum Proprietor. “Especially in this weather?”
The Detective ignored him. “Now, we know the exhibit was moved manually – the thieves did not bring any equipment with them. Since they grabbed the whole coffin, they would have been carrying several hundredweight between them. Even with the woman helping, three normal people would not have been able to move such a prodigious load so easily and quickly. Therefore I suggest you pay a visit the Circus Infinitus and ask some questions of its employees. Good Day, Proprietor.”
“You mean that awful Circus is responsible for this?” cried the manager.
The Detective turned to leave. “Oh, and another thing. You might want to check out their latest show – a giant gorilla, dressed like a Mummy. Very much like the one that was stolen from here last night, only alive.”
The previous day Amuna the Mummy, wrapped in a concealing fur cloak, strode into the British Museum. Her bony bare feet made no sound on the polished wooden floor. She had plastered one some make-up so her face was at least presentable in public, but the rest of her body beneath the cloak was still emaciated, with shreds of bandages still dangling from her limbs. Therefore few spared her a second glance as she glided through the Museum’s broad corridors.
Despite her thick fur covering she was cold. Deathly cold to her very bones. But then Amuna was always cold. Only the heat from sun-warmed sand could thaw her out. It was something that nagged at her constantly, a desperate ache she could do nothing about.
She could only find diversions to take her mind from it. Ignoring the dinosaur skeletons, the replicas of ancient humans, the stuffed extinct mammals and more recen
t human artefacts, she marched straight into the Egyptian Wing, where a new exhibit had just opened.
Lord Cawley, a famous explorer and adventurer, had been excavating the tomb of the great Pharaoh Neferkari when he found the door to a secret chamber, unnoticed by thieves after all this time. Hoping to discover another ancient king’s burial chamber, he broke through to find a truly enormous sarcophagus, twice the size of any he had uncovered previously. But inscriptions told him he had not unearthed another pharaoh, but the resting place of one of the ruler’s animals.
Pharaoh Neferkari had been very eccentric. Unearthed records revealed that the great king had had all his favourite pets mummified so they could keep him company in the afterlife. The carefully preserved cat, dog, horse and camel were all stolen by grave-robbers, but they had not found a giant ape called Goril-Ho-Tep. When Lord Cawley opened the huge coffin, he found the gorilla staring back at him, so well preserved he looked almost alive.
Now Lord Cawley’s most famous discovery had been brought back to England for everyone to marvel over. The Proprietor of the British Museum hoped to bring customers back to his flagging institution, and Lord Cawley needed more money to fund his next expedition. Of course news of the new show had reached the Circus Infinitus, after a day of slightly reduced takings, and Amuna decided she wanted to see the ape for herself.
The ancient Egyptian woman passed through a pair of giant plaster columns, painted with garish hieroglyphs that made no sense, but looked good to the general public. A crowd had gathered ahead as the actual show cost sixpence to enter. Amuna locked eyes with the sales clerk as she passed, momentarily hypnotizing him, and entered without paying. A few people looked curiously in her direction, but decided against questioning when she turned her luminous gaze on them. Those eyes were the only things visible beneath her deep, furry hood.
The Circus Infinitus Stories Volume 1 Page 7