AU: I was told that I should put this on Wattpad too, so here it is, another English short story. Hope u like it :)
Obsolete
On December 12, 1927, Marilyn Russell joined the Floyd Brothers Traveling Circus. She was young then, just an rebellious 13 year old who ran away from home. To tell you the truth, I think she knew exactly what she was getting into by doing that.
Before she had ran, she tried to persuade me almost everyday to come with her, a mix of letters, calls, and just pestering me to no end. Then, somehow, I ended up packing all my things, slipping out the door, and hopping in the train. Really, I don't know how she did it, I guess she had rubbed off on me a bit.
I could never tell what Marilyn was thinking. Even at the age of 25, she was still that rebellious 13 year old. I remember watching in the stands before all the circus had been set up, as that was just about as much as a seamstress could do at that point, and watching her flip and propel herself across the the tent, and still managing to latch on to the next bar and do it again. It was quite illusory actually. Though, Floyd would always storm in screaming, saying about how he would kick her out if she didn't get down now. She would always drop down immediately, she needed this circus too much, and this circus needed her too, considering that she was the last trapeze artist left. The other 3 we had had simply vanished.
"Wait, so when is the big show again, Helen?" I remember Marilyn questioning me for the third time that day, throwing me a leotard that needed to be fixed.
"I don't know, Marilyn. Why don't you go ask Floyd?" I replied, and tucked the leo in to my tote, along with a couple others that had been thrown to me. They would usually pile up when we moved towns.
"Nah," she said, "He'll just get angry. I'll find out later." Then, she skipped off, probably in search for someone else she could badger for an answer.
As Marilyn had informed me about 20 times the next day, the big show would be on April 3, 1932; exactly one week from then. It seemed like everyone who had anything to do with Floyd Brothers Traveling Circus, was on the train and preparing for the show. I must have heard 3,000 feet pass my door that day while I sat sewing leotards, studded dresses, silk jackets, metallic skirts and basically anything you could think of back together. As it was compulsory that every small detail had to be to perfection for the show. Only the chitter-chatter of the sewing machine and the sound if feet stomping past my door to keep me company. I remember hearing thing noise down the hallway one day: thump, clack; thump, clack; until it reached my door. So, I looked up from my busy sewing of a jeweled leotard, to see Marilyn standing in the doorway on one foot, the other wrapped in a tight cream-colored gauze and a crutch under her arm.
"Twisted ankle." was all she said.
Once the show came, and we were all set up, everyone was so tight, they sat in chairs off to the side chewing at their nails or pacing back and forth on the musty gravel. Just then, someone hurries up to me, informing me that Marilyn would still be performing and to go get her outfit, and without any questions, I did. I could imagine Floyd's capricious voice,
"You know your still performing, right?" He would say.
9 p.m. exactly, all lights flicked on, people piled into the stands as floyd strode across the stage and on to the pedestal.
"Welcome one and all, to the Floyd Brothers Circus!" He began. I ducked out of the tent and and darted backstage. I saw a blink of Marilyn's bleach blonde hair and ethereal skirt, and wished her good luck as I ran.
Before I knew it, I found myself back at the tent, peaking through the yellowish canvas panels, just to catch Marilyn in the middle of a triple flip between bars, a pained look on her face.
When the night was over, everyone was chatting amongst themselves as they were making their way back to their bunk on the train. Marilyn caught be by the shoulder, and I turned around to see a huge smile on their face.
She told me about all the amazed faces as she flipped bar to bar. Also, about how that one haphazard trick that had ended up wrong, ended with marilyn plunging towards the ground. That night, Marilyn left. Actually, more like "vanished".
