Banishment (An episodic tale)

Banishment (An episodic tale)

Postby Katie » Mon Feb 03, 2014 5:40 am

When she was very young, Cecilie Piacera had learned there was little use in regretting things. Choices were made and actions were taken. Whether or not they were wrong or foolish, regretting such things rarely ever changed the outcomes of the choices or courses of those actions. Once she made a decision and reacted, there was little reason to spend the time regretting them. Today was no different.

The cudgel slogged against her jaw, created a bulbous lump that was outlined by blue and purple skin. It made it hard to speak as the swelling increased into her gums. The weapon he chose was barely a cudgel; it was more of a short, but broad stick with a fat end. Zell was never that refined and she made sure to remind him when she spat a spray of her blood across his face once the searing pain became manageable.

"I will beat you to death," he reminded her, his anger a raspy hiss in his throat.

Her arms were tied behind her in rotted rope, but it had enough life left to hold her to the chair she sat in. Her words came out thickly, coated with the extra blood that was still in her mouth. "How graceful of you. Beating a woman that you tied to the chair and didn't even have the gall to rape. You're still a child, Ryann Zell."

He sent the cudgel back down on the same lump on her jaw which sent white-lit pain to blind her eyes. Blood sprayed from her mouth and despite the moment of agony, his heaving chest and his boiled-over rage was enough to make his fingers tremble. His emotions had always made him stupid; distant dreams of running a successful circus, of being a renown entertainer had blinded him from a child and well into his adulthood. She had humored the idea, only because she had a talent that wasn't easily used in professions that were highly regarded. It only made sense that the acrobat and the entertainer would open a traveling circus. The traveling, of course, was always supposed to be temporary, once they had made enough money to buy a spot of land and encourage the world to come to them, instead of the other way around.

The birth of P and Z's Traveling Circus had been painful from the start; Ryann Zell wanted the "Z" first, since it was his idea, but Cecilie Piacera had insisted that alphabetical was best. Besides, he would be in the ring almost the entire show, while she only had an act -- the main act, of course, but still, his presence didn't need anymore boasting. For years, they traveled to find other talent, interesting animals and work hands worth keeping. As they traveled, they found that people were much poorer, much more interested in feeding their families than bringing their coin to a circus. Cecilie's flirtatious tactics to get men to ignore their wives long enough to see a dancer had only worked for so long.

Soon, from the sprightly, and at least bathed, individuals they began, they had become filth. Zell eventually earned enough fat in his belly to cushion his fall if he fell forwards. Cecilie kept her figure because she had to, but the kindness she once engendered was long gone. She became borderline cruel and it was for moments like these that she treasured talents such as malice and apathy.

"I want to know why," Zell said, his tone more like a rabid dog than a person. "You tell me why."

"You are as stupid as you are fat, Zell," Cecilie said, spitting blood again but this time to the ground. "You actually believed for a moment that you could replace me. But you forget, Zell. You're a worthless, inflated, windbag who would eat his own shit for supper before he would ever run this circus as well as I have."

When he beat her again, roaring in his frenzy, Cecilie's mind fell back to the moment it had all gone so well. Razia was a pretty thing, no doubt. She needed a little extra meat on her bones; the male patrons wouldn't be interested in the ribs she sported. If her breasts had been larger, Cecilie would've forgiven the lankiness of her frame. She fed her fatty meats and within a few weeks, she was at a range she could sell. And it was selling, until the day that her tight-rope skit replaced the elephant Cecilie mounted and then performed many of her acrobatic tricks from.

One night of replacement, she could forgive. Variety gave the show -- and the sales -- life. But after the third day, Cecilie knew that Zell was making a decision without her approval. It was just her luck that she half-cut the rope once the 'walker was in mid-trick at the top of the tent. When she fell, every patron rose with hands over their mouths, or fingers pointing to where the rope had snapped. When they drug her limp body away, she was more like a skinbag of brittle bones that crushed every organ. Blood from her nose, mouth and eyeballs made a slender trail when one of the workmen had drug her out.

Cecilie smiled when she turned her head back to Zell. The pain throbbed in her head and it made her dizzy. Another blow and she would be delirious. But she had him right where he needed to be. Slowly, her right wrist moved from under the rope, cautiously without moving her arm that he would notice.

"So, Zell," she said, spitting blood once more, "I think it's time you and I came to an arrangement."
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Katie
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