...
"Come on, Honey. Let's see how you look." His mother encouraged with an enthusiastic smile, her eyes filled with maternal pride. She had spent countless hours meticulously crafting the vibrant, circus-themed costume, her love for her son evident in every stitch and sequin.
Richard hesitated behind the curtain, feeling a wave of self-consciousness wash over him. "I feel like a loser." He responded, his voice tinged with insecurity.
"Now, Dick, your mother put a lot of work into the new costumes." His father reminded him gently, his voice carrying the wisdom of experience. "Come on now, let's see."
Reluctantly, Richard sighed and pulled back the curtain, fully revealing himself in the costume that was a riot of traffic light colors and patterns. "Is there a reason why it has to be so... colorful?" He asked, his reluctance to embrace the costume apparent.
His mother smiled warmly as she knelt down to his level. "Because when I see you up there, Honey, you remind me of a little robin." She told him, her fingers gently caressing the side of his face. "Robins are bright and cheerful, just like you when you perform."
Richard furrowed his brow in confusion. "A robin? Like the bird?" He questioned, still unsure about the connection.
As they prepared for their act, they heard Mr. Haly, the ringmaster, announcing the beginning of the show. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, children of all ages! Welcome to the Grandest show on Earth, Haly's International Traveling Circus!"
"Come on, that's our cue." His father urged.
"Before we begin, let's give a round of applause for the benefactor of tonight's action-packed pageantry, Mister Bruce Wayne!" Mr. Haly announced, his voice booming through the circus tent.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and a spotlight illuminated the ever-stoic Bruce Wayne, who acknowledged the audience with a gracious wave and a smile.
"And now, without further ado, the act you all have been waiting for!" Mr. Haly continued. "Ladies and Gentlemen, direct your attention high above the center ring for a dazzling display of aerial artistry done by the one... the only... The Fearless Flying Graysons!" The spotlight shifted to Richard and his parents, who stood proudly on the high platform above the center ring. "As always, performing their daring feats without the safety of a net!"
Richard stood there, his eyes wide with wonder and admiration as his father made his daring leap off the elevated platform. Time seemed to suspend as he watched his father gracefully take flight, suspended in mid-air by nothing more than a slender rope. It was a breathtaking display of agility and grace, each twist and turn executed with the precision of a master. His father's body seemed to defy gravity as he effortlessly swung from one end of the trapeze to the other, a living embodiment of the circus's magic.
But the spectacle was far from over as, his mother leaped off the platform with a boundless energy and enthusiasm. She was the essence of grace, her form twisting and turning as she performed astonishing tumbles and somersaults high above the expectant crowd. Her movements were a testament to years of dedicated practice, a ballet in the air that left the audience in awe.
Then, as if guided by an unspoken bond forged over countless performances, she reached her peak and arched her body backward. In that heart-stopping moment, Richard watched as his father's hands, strong and steady, reached out to catch her securely mid-air. The two of them became one, a harmonious blend of strength and grace, and the crowd erupted into applause, recognizing the magic of their connection. It was a breathtaking display of trust and unity that left an indelible mark on everyone fortunate enough to witness it.
Now, it was Richard's turn. His heart pounded with excitement as he stood on the edge of the platform, the anticipation building like a crescendo in his chest. The smell of sawdust and the distant sounds of the crowd filled his senses as he prepared to join his family in the thrilling act. He could feel the cool, evening breeze ruffling his colorful costume.
He watched as his parents swung back towards him, their smiles radiant and reassuring. They beckoned him to take the leap, their outstretched arms a promise of safety and support. Richard was about to make the jump when suddenly, a strange and dreadful sound pierced the air. It was a high-pitched twang, followed by a sickening snap.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Richard's heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened in sheer horror as the rope that was holding his parents snapped right before his eyes. It was as if the world had fractured in an instant, and the once-unwavering safety of the trapeze had become a nightmare.
"NO!" He screamed, his voice a desperate cry that seemed to echo through the entire circus tent. He reached out for his mother's hand, fingers stretching as far as they could, but the gap between them was insurmountable. His voice was filled with terror, a heart-wrenching plea for the impossible.
But it was too far.
"Dick!" She cried, her voice a mix of anguish and fear, before she and his father plummeted to the unforgiving ground below. Their graceful, aerial dance turned into a harrowing descent, a chilling spectacle that would haunt Richard for the rest of his life.
The audience, once filled with cheers and applause, now gasped and screamed in disbelief. The circus, a place of wonder and joy, had been transformed into a scene of unimaginable tragedy. The young Richard stood frozen in place, his world shattering around him, as he stared in horrific shock at his lifeless parents lying on the circus floor, their fearless act ending in a tragic and heart-wrenching catastrophe. The colorful costume that once represented their shared dreams now seemed like a cruel mockery of the happiness they had known.
...
The Graveyard was quiet as the rain came thundering down on the mourning community, its steady rhythm like a somber drumbeat echoing the collective sorrow. Richard stood there, surrounded by his circus family, a close-knit community brought together by their shared grief. The strongmen, known for their Herculean strength, let tears escape from their eyes, their tough exteriors cracking under the weight of the tragedy. Contortionists, masters of flexibility, felt their hearts twist up inside them, a physical manifestation of the loss of a beloved member of their family. Even the clowns, known for their joviality, were dressed in proper suits, their colorful costumes replaced by somber attire that mirrored the gray sky above.
Not far from the freshly dug grave, Commissioner Gordon and Bruce Wayne stood together, their faces etched with concern and determination.
"Does he have any other family?" Mr. Wayne asked, his voice a low murmur amidst the rain.
"No." Commissioner Gordon answered, his gaze fixed on the grieving young boy. "Some of the circus people want to take him in, but..."
"But?" Mr. Wayne questioned, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"I don't think it's safe for him here." Commissioner Gordon admitted, his expression grave.
"Why do you say that?" Mr. Wayne asked.
"The ropes didn't break. They were cut. This was no accident. This was murder." Commissioner Gordon told him, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation.
The funeral ended, and the crowd began to disperse, leaving behind a somber atmosphere that hung in the air like a dark cloud. Only Bruce Wayne and Richard remained, standing silently in front of the two newly buried graves, their unknown bond forged by tragedy. Mr. Wayne looked over at the young boy, who stood alone with rain-soaked hair clinging to his forehead, knowing what he had to do.
It was an echo from a time not that long ago, a tragedy that had reshaped both their lives in an instant.
Richard stared with glazed eyes at the ground, barely feeling the rain hit his empty shell of a body. He contorted his face in pain, letting hot tears fall down his cheeks, each drop a silent tribute to the parents he had lost. The look of fear in his mother's eyes during those fateful moments would be forever imprinted on his mind, a haunting memory that refused to fade.
The only interruption from this thought was a stranger's hand which came to rest on his shoulder, a touch that offered comfort in the midst of his anguish.
"Hello, Dick. My name is Bruce Wayne." The stranger said, his voice gentle but filled with a quiet resolve.
...