MARIONETTE

Chanyeol felt like his heart was about to burst – he couldn’t find her.

Snow crunched under his boots as he trudged forward, his gaze wandering over the white field. He was like a tower looking over the sea of children, trying to find a familiar green bonnet floating along the waves. Children huddled as they skipped and giggled, their shouts drowning Chanyeol’s call for his daughter. Grey clouds mingled with the white overhead, bringing darkness long before the hours of the night. Chanyeol felt a bolt of panic – he needed to find Areum before it got too dark.

Chanyeol’s vision blurred as his eyes welled up. His hands clutched onto the pockets of his worn out pants in desperation. Gusts of frosty winds burnt his cheeks as they whistled past him. He begged for a whisper, a glimpse, anything that would lead him to his daughter. But there was nothing; only echoes of voices that weren’t Areum’s.

Chanyeol’s tears caught in his lashes – he refused to cry. He took deep breaths as he stared at the trail of children walking up the field. They were young and unorganized, but they all were headed toward the same place: the giant tent. Its white cloth fell like a curtain from the tall pole erected in the middle while two shorter peaks supported the fabric on each side. Circles of red, blue, and green were painted at random intervals while flags of the same color stood at each pole. Long trains of bulbs went from the top of the tent to the stakes in the ground, lighting it up as shadows took over. Children were disappearing into the tent through the entrance – maybe Areum was already inside.

Chanyeol rubbed his nose on his sleeve and took larger steps toward the entrance – if she was in there, he was going to find her. A few steps away from the entrance, Chanyeol caught a glimpse of something green. Hope sparked in his chest. He raced through the current and shouted Areum’s name. The children around him gave him odd looks but he didn’t care. The girl was wearing a bonnet.

“Areum!”

The little girl whipped around with wide eyes. “Papa!”

Chanyeol bundled her into a hug and dug his face in her hair. Her warmth made his eyes sting with tears. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said in her ear, his voice thick and low. “You can’t just run away like that.”

“I’m sorry, papa.” Areum tightened her short arms around him. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Chanyeol pulled back, his chapped lips ripping into a big smile. He brushed away Areum’s locks from her face and readjusted her bonnet. Cupping her pink cheeks in his big hands he said, “Let’s go home.” He held out his hand and got to his feet, waiting for his daughter to take it.

“Papa…” Areum looked to the ground, her hands clasped behind her back. “I still want to see the circus,” she said, her voice small.

Chanyeol sighed. “Darling, we talked about this.”

“But, papa, everyone is going.” Her hazel eyes shined as she looked up at him. “Nancy and Yuri’s parents let them go every year,” she said, pouting.

“Areum, you know how I feel about these places,” Chanyeol said as he crouched down again. “They are not always safe and you’re too young.”

“But now you’re here!” she said, raising her brows with expectation. “You can come with me!”

Chanyeol held his patience. “Areum.”

It was like someone had thrown a rock at her. Her expression fell and her eyes glassed over. “Okay, papa.”

Chanyeol gave her a warm smile but Areum didn’t look at him. He held out his hand again and Areum wrapped her soft fingers around his calloused palm. Chanyeol’s steps away from the tent were slow and heavy as little sniffs came from beside him – he decided he was going to ignore them. Areum’s grip around his hand faltered the farther they walked away, her body was starting to tremble. Chanyeol chewed at the wound on his lip as he forced himself not to look at his daughter. He couldn’t give in. But when she let out a hiccup, Chanyeol couldn’t do it anymore. He halted in his step, making Areum stop with him and looked down at her. Trails of tears shined on her cheeks and mucus ran from her red nose. Chanyeol could feel his heart cracking. He made his daughter cry.

“Darling,” he said, sighing. The crowd around them had thinned but there were still more children coming; now that Chanyeol really looked at them, he recognized some kids from the village. “You know why I don’t let you go here, right?”

Areum kept her head down. “Yes.”

“You still want to go?”

Gazing at the ground, she nodded.

Chanyeol pursed his lips. He stared at the hole in his faded pants; he always forgot to patch that up. “Areum, I promised your mom I’ll always keep you safe,” he said, picking at the threads. “But I also swore that I’ll always keep you happy.”

Areum gazed at him, her hair falling through her loose bonnet again. He tucked them behind her ear and gave her a small smile. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “We’re going to the circus.”

The inside of the tent was a lot bigger than he had expected.  Eight rows of dusty cushioned seats stacked up behind each other and circled the tent. Columns of collapsible stairs distributed the rows, providing some much-needed space. The empty circular area in the center was covered with small mounds of dry sand. Two glossy red pedestals stood on the left and right ends. A tall metal pole stood at one corner of the tent, attached to it a rope that joined it with a similar pole on the other side. There were objects like giant rings and black whips arranged on the sand along with some other things Chanyeol couldn’t place a name on. The weather threw a gloomy blanket over the tent, barely leaving any light to cross through the thick white cloth.

It was getting darker by the minute.

Areum bounced in her seat, excited to be sitting in the first row. Her bonnet slipped from her lap and Chanyeol caught it before it could hit the dirt. He tied the black ribbon of the bonnet around his wrist before pressing his blueish hands under his armpits, cursing himself for forgetting his coat. Broken plastic cups and ripped paper bags littered around the seats and more often than once, Chanyeol felt something crawl around his feet.

 ‘I’m doing this for my daughter, I’m doing this for Areum, this will make her happy…’ he kept repeating in his head.

The children roared with the wind that shook the tent, talking and screaming with excitement. Some kids were jumping on their seats, shouting incomprehensibly as they threw litter at each other. Areum was fidgeting, her eyes shining as she watched the children dance around to their songs. She looked up at Chanyeol in silence with a sweet smile on her rosy lips. Chanyeol pretended he didn’t understand her and smiled back.

Suddenly, there came a loud clap. Silence fell immediately.

Chanyeol sat up straight, his eyes alert as he stared at the ring. Areum stopped bouncing, her fingers coiling around her father’s sleeve. Chanyeol glanced at the audience but the darkness showed him only a vague outline. How was anyone going to do a show like this?

“Welcome, children!” boomed a male voice.

Chanyeol’s breathing hitched. Where did that come from?

“Where the impossible becomes possible!” said another man.

“Where the magic comes to life!” said a different high pitched voice.

“Welcome to Cirque du Marionette!” said the three voices together.

The ground trembled as the tent erupted with cheers. Startled, Chanyeol watched silhouettes creating a ruckus at the back. The noise almost made him miss the small figure walking toward the center of the ring.

The man snapped, and the sound whisked everyone into silence.

Chanyeol kept his gaze on the man and put one hand behind Areum’s back.

“We will now begin our show!” said the man, his voice a cheerful echo. “But what’s this? There’s no light! There can’t be a show without any light!”

A chorus of unanimous agreement came from the audience.

“Well, then, let’s fix that, shall we?” said the man, chuckling. The man laced his fingers for a moment before opening his hand. A large luminous orb floated over his palm. Hushed whispers floated around them as Chanyeol’s eyes widened. He gaped as the man stepped away from the light source, leaving it hanging in the center. How was this possible?

“Oh, silly me! It’s not enough,” said the man as he giggled. “But I know what to do.”

The man swung a stick through the light ball, shattering it like glass. Shards of light flew around the tent at high speed, evoking gasps and squeals from children. One whipped past Chanyeol, buzzing in his ear as it flew up behind his head. The area lit up with a loud boom. The ground shook again as a wild bout of cheers came from the children. Areum hopped on her seat, clapping so hard that Chanyeol feared she might hurt herself.  Chanyeol’s attention diverted to the man in the ring. Golden chains hung from the left shoulder of his white coat, matching the buttons. A blue sash was strapped across his chest and lines of the same color striped his white pants. His pointed black boots dug into the sand and on his head was a black top hat. A white and blue mask covered his face, his eyes hidden behind the shadow of the hat. He wore no gloves and his slender fingers spread apart as he signaled the audience to stop.

“Let the show begin!”

After the man with the mask left, two others took his place. Their costumes matched his in every way except their colors – one of them had red and other had green. The started off by introducing four girls, the names of whom Chanyeol forgot as soon as they were mentioned. The girls made their appearance on the metal poles at the ends of the tent where they stood until the men threw up two rings and two balls. Gasps rippled as the girls leaped at them in the air and swung back once they had grabbed them.

“Papa! Papa!” Areum pointed. “How are they doing that?”

Chanyeol put a hand over her head. “They have a kind of a rope attached to them, darling,” he said. The girls untied the silky violet cloth from around their waists and wrapped it around their arms. “See, that’s how they’re in the air.”

Areum stared at them in awe. The girls moved with a calculated rhythm, not missing a beat as they flew over their heads. They never came close to the audience – the only things visible were their shiny maroon costumes and their wild colored hair. The girls carried the show in the air; their jumps precise and coordinated; their tricks symmetrical – they seemed unreal.

“Papa,” Areum called after the girls had disappeared behind the cloth. “I want to be like them!”

her hair, Chanyeol forced a smile. “When you’re older, darling.”

“Can I be like them, papa? You really think so?” Areum beamed, showing her missing teeth.

“Of course!” he said.  Sometimes it was better to lie.

Chanyeol didn’t notice the masked men coming back into the ring. Empty handed, they stood in a line between the red pedestals.

“We will now present our grand trick!” said the red one.

“Look close, dear children,” said the green one. “What you are about to witness is true magic!”

Areum gasped. “Magic!”

Chanyeol wanted to scoff but the look on Areum’s face held him back. He hadn’t seen her so happy in a long time. The men spread across the ring, spreading their arms up in the air toward the audience. The green one stood at the left corner and produced a staff from behind his back. It was black with a golden handle and he spun it in his hands once before slamming it on the ground. Children jumped with the sudden bang. Electricity crackled from the bottom tip of his cane and leaped up to his hands. The red one pulled out a staff as well, following the movement in the other direction. Sand flew from the impact and fell as white snow; a frosty layer slowly crept up to the handle. The blue one followed suit and orbs of light spread around the ground like fireflies; they crossed their way up to the man’s hands, lighting up his staff.

Chanyeol leaned back, his brows raised with amazement. Things sure had changed from the days he had seen the circus – the performers back then didn’t have all these tricks and technology. He stared at their hands, narrowing his eyes for a more focused view. Was there some sort of a button that triggered those reactions?

“Wow,” Areum said, hanging open. “Papa, that’s magic!”

The men were settling into a formation when Chanyeol leaned in to whisper, “Of course, it’s not, darling.”

Areum furrowed her brows. “But, papa, look at their sticks!”

“It’s all illusions and tricks, Areum,” Chanyeol whispered. “There’s probably some sort of a button on their canes which they’re pressing.”

“Oh…” Areum frowned, her shoulders deflating a little. “How do you know?”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” he said, shrugging. “They’re illusions.”

“Magic makes sense too…” Areum blinked up at him. Chanyeol restrained himself from correcting her; it would only spoil her fun. He patted her head. “Let’s just enjoy the show for now, hmm?”

Looking unconvinced, Areum nodded before turning to watch the show. Chanyeol was tightening the ribbon knot around his wrist when she began to slap his thigh. “Papa!” She gasped. “Papa! They’re looking at you.”

Unsure, Chanyeol looked ahead. The men stood to face him, their backs straight and their shoulder squared. Motionless, they watched him. The air around them seemed to still.

“There seems to be a non-believer in our midst,” said the blue one, his voice musical. Silence prevailed in the tent; Chanyeol couldn’t hear anything but his heart beating in his ears. All eyes glued on them as the blue one walked toward him, his cane glowing with every languid step he took. Chanyeol instinctively grabbed the back of Areum’s shirt.

“Am I right, sir?” asked the chirpy man.

Chanyeol felt his stomach flip. “I was just explaining to my daughter the mechanics behind the illusions—”

The man let out a laugh. “You think what we do here are illusions?”

There was a heavy pause. “Yes.” Chanyeol felt a headache building at the back of his head. “With all due respect, you’re very talented—”

Chanyeol cut off as the man pulled out a green bonnet from his pocket. Chanyeol glanced at his empty wrist and stiffened. How did he get that off?

“I believe this belongs to you,” the man said, holding it out to Areum.  

She grinned. “Yes!”

 The man reached over to drop it in her lap, giving Chanyeol a closer look at his hands. There were fine black lines around his finger joints and dark tiny freckles covered his fair skin. There was a muffled squeak when the man backed away. “Do you believe in magic, Areum?”

Areum gave a delightful gasp. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything,” he said with a small laugh. “I also know you’re twelve years old.”

“Twelve and a half,” she corrected with furrowed brows.

The man tilted his head. “My apologies, darling.”

Goosebumps raised on Chanyeol arms. A suffocating cloud was beginning to form over him as his headache intensified. There was something overbearing about the man’s aura, something Chanyeol felt deeply unsettled by but couldn’t place his finger on.

“We need a volunteer for our next trick,” he said, crouching down to meet her level. “Would you like to join, darling?”

Groans came from the audience behind them as Areum jumped in her seat. “Yes, please!”

“No!” Chanyeol said, grabbing her arm. “You’re not going.”

“But, papa—”

“I said no, Areum,” Chanyeol said, his tone hard. The blue man’s stare bore into his skull – Chanyeol felt like a worm in a falcon’s nest.

The masked man snickered. “Would you take her place, perhaps?”

“I don’t think—”

 “Please,” the man said, leaning closer. “I insist.” He took off the mask. “You’ll join, won’t you?”

The man’s bright pink lips stretched into a disfigured a smile. Deep black cracks ran from the corner of his mouth to the ends of his jaw. His thick painted brows peeked from the shadows of his hat. Dark lines circled his stiff eyelids and an artificial tint colored his pink cheeks. His dead eyes shined like marbles – Chanyeol felt like he was being thrown into a dark pit. He felt like his body had turned to stone and an icy spear was piercing his chest. The coldness spread like roots, branching deep into his core. Fleeting memories shot across him like a train as everything blended into a blob of colors. Only one image remained – a lost boy whom he had once met outside a circus.

“You will come.” He put his mask on and turned away.

Air slapped into Chanyeol’s lungs. His head felt like it was about to split. His legs wobbled as he got up, his gaze fixed on the man’s back. He will come.

“Papa?” Areum called, timidly. “Papa, what are you doing?”

“I’m just going to help them with the trick, darling,” Chanyeol said, his voice hoarse. He felt ice inside his bones; the blizzard in his brain no longer gave him pain. He followed in the steps of the blue one, his feet numb and his hands clenched. He wanted to stop. He wanted to go back. A bitter taste collected in Chanyeol’s mouth when he realized he left his daughter behind. Fear gripped him – he wanted to see her again.

But he couldn’t stop.

“Stand here, please,” said the red one, holding his staff.

Chanyeol obeyed. An odd tingling tickled his neck, spreading to his limbs. The faces around him became hazy and the words mixed together. A strange sound played in his head – it was from a music box. Slowly, the room was starting to spin. Chanyeol felt lost in the notes – so familiar, so beautiful. Why had he ever given that box away to that circus boy? He saw a little boy with hollow cheeks turning the handle of the box, making the ballerina twirl to the music. Chanyeol wanted to smile. He blinked, and suddenly the ballerina was dancing around him, her pink dress flowing around her. Oh, how gorgeous was she!

Chanyeol shook his head, prompting his vision to focus. A little girl sat in the front row, her dark hair falling over her face as she clutched onto a torn bonnet. She looked like she was about to cry. Who was she?

The mumbling around Chanyeol faded – only the music remained, getting louder with every circle the ballerina made around him. She placed her delicate hand over his shoulder as she circled him, laughing. The room spun faster.

Where was he?

Chanyeol felt the pressure building up over him. The cold in his bones burned into a fire. It devoured his insides like an inferno and spiked pain into his fibers. Flames consumed his blood like oil and squeezed his heart. His lungs were hissing with steam and sweat dripped from his being. Everything felt hot.

There was screaming in the distance and thick smoke tickled his nose. Chanyeol suddenly felt a blast of pain in his ears before all sound disappeared.

The world had stopped.

There was a metallic smell in the air, so sharp that he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. He was lying on the ground, his head buried deep into the sand. He tried to moisten his dry tongue as he attempted to calm down. He wanted to move his fingers but they wouldn’t twitch; his body felt heavy like a log. Chanyeol only managed to open his eyes.

There was a fire eating up the tent, fueling the black fog shrouding him. The sand around him was soaked in red. There were empty seats and benches on the far corner and scarlet splatters all over the white cloth. A small black show was lying near one of the stairs and another yellow belt hung over the benches. A green red stained bonnet lay in front of him, one of its ribbons slightly ripped. Chanyeol wondered who it belonged to. Tempted to touch it, Chanyeol tried to reach for it but his hands wouldn’t move. He was on the verge of giving up when his fingers finally curled Suddenly, his head snapped up on its own. His arms flew up and a strong jerk pulled him upward by the waist. He was standing even before his feet touched the ground. Chanyeol wanted to scream, but the skin on his felt like it would crumble like paint.

“Perfect,” said a female voice. “He will do just fine.”

Chanyeol attempted to turn, but his neck was lodged into place. He tried to bring his arms down, move his legs, but why wouldn’t they listen to him? He narrowed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose as tried to make sense of what was happening. His clothes were burnt – his shirt barely hung on him and the hem of his pants was still giving off smoke. His palms were burnt brown and his smooth fingers had fine black lines around them. A thin thread attached to the back of his hand caught his eye. He checked his other hand – it was there too. The string attached to his knees, his shoulders, his elbows, everywhere Chanyeol could see. His jaw glued together and his expression wouldn’t shift when he tried.

 Chanyeol caught a glimpse of a pink dress.

“Our circus finally has a new act.”

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