Thursday, May 11th, 1952.
Jupiter, FL.
Overhead the sun is shining, coupled with wisps of smoky clouds. The temperature hasnât dropped below 87°F in days. Itâs been months since the sleepy town of Jupiter has been disturbed, much less by crime. The small township bustles to its usual melody; ice cream drips on the sidewalks as blissful toddlers clasp their motherâs hands, shop owners sweep and polish display windows, the milk man takes his usual route.
On the outskirts of town, a queue of trailers and train cars cough and wheeze their way toward the central points of Jupiter. Theyâve camped a few miles out for a week or two. Painted in intrepid letters along the side of a colossal cart reads, âFrĂ€uleinâs Cabinet of Curiositiesâ. From an open train door, a large man sporting a handle bar mustache and suspenders dangles his feet while puffing on a cigar. Rambling in different tongues can be heard from the entourage. Pale horses toss their head and march on as they tread alongside a train track. Tinkering of jars, lamps, and ware echoes among bare trees. An adamant female German voice calls out, âWeâre almost there, so donât get tired yet meine kleine Familie!â
The brief tumult of Jupiter quiets as a siren rings out. Minutes later reports confirm that there is a murderer on the loose. The details are vague, but the public has been made aware that Delilah and Todd McBrady have been murdered in their home. Their two children are missing, assumed kidnapped for some sick game of ransom. Terrified pandemonium ensues, men busily escort their families indoors. Ice cream dries like thick paste on concrete.
A desert-like field on the fringes of town becomes a temporary home for a traveling circus. At its furthermost side, cattails sway and a small lake ebbs. A petite woman stands, knee deep, scrubbing costumes on a washboard. Conveyance and carts disperse and park along the spidery dirt paths. A blunt hammer is brought down on wooden stakes, soon to be tethered to a candy-cane striped big top. Dwarfs and giants alike work with sweat on their brow. Suitcases and carts are unloaded, not a single personage rests. Periwinkle robes skim the main trail through camp as an aged flaxen-haired woman voices commands and requests. Her troupe abides by her speech like it is law. A satisfied smile comes to her bold red lips as miraculous architecture is erected, to be the entrance of her grand show. It is marvelous in size, its devilish head sporting a wide mouth that can fit any who dare enter.
Progress is halted as a mob of police cars pull up to the entrance. Dust clouds the mouth of FrĂ€uleinâs Cabinet of Curiosities. Her ensemble stands at attention, naturally defensive. Theyâve never had a friend in the outside world, let alone been able to rely on the police for their safety or justice. The blond emerges from the mouth of the devil, elegant in her garb and thick dialogue, âOfficers, how may I help you?â
âYou freaks wouldnât happen to know anything about two missing children, wouldâye?â The commanding officerâs southern accent is senselessly twangy.
âOh nein, how tragisch,â she frowns, âBut we have only just gotten into town, we know nothing of this.â
âSo we have no reason to suspect you, in spite of yerâ appearance just as these youngsters disappear?â
âOfficer,â she presents him with a small flier, the date of their last show, and the upcoming, âI assure you we know nothing. Please, do not waste our time or interrupt further.â
The deputy crumples the bill in his hand as he turns with a grimace. A few of his patrolmen cut the ropes holding lanterns and posters high at the entryway. They crash to the earth. I nestle myself further into a bag, where other circus peanuts reside. I am relieved when a finger stops just a centimeter away from my face, and Elsa speaks again.
âPay no mind to the brainless buffoons running this god forsaken town,â a crooked grin spread across her face, ânow, back to work! Tomorrow we open for business. And tonight, everyone must rehearse!â
I feel the bag jostle. I am bounced to the surface. I can smell the smoke and popcorn in the air. So far, no sign of a hungry hand. If circus peanuts could sweat, I would be wiping a drop from my forehead right now. I try to relax, my time hasnât come yet, has it? Glitter speckles my vision as my bottom is pinched and hauled from my fellow peanuts. I am tossed carelessly into the depths of a sparkly performerâs mouth. I was so foolish. There are so many things I didn't get to see or do! The last thing I witness are his golden tresses dancing in slow motion. His mouth closes. Darkness comes. This is my final act.
But the show, must go on.
Jupiter, FL.
Overhead the sun is shining, coupled with wisps of smoky clouds. The temperature hasnât dropped below 87°F in days. Itâs been months since the sleepy town of Jupiter has been disturbed, much less by crime. The small township bustles to its usual melody; ice cream drips on the sidewalks as blissful toddlers clasp their motherâs hands, shop owners sweep and polish display windows, the milk man takes his usual route.
On the outskirts of town, a queue of trailers and train cars cough and wheeze their way toward the central points of Jupiter. Theyâve camped a few miles out for a week or two. Painted in intrepid letters along the side of a colossal cart reads, âFrĂ€uleinâs Cabinet of Curiositiesâ. From an open train door, a large man sporting a handle bar mustache and suspenders dangles his feet while puffing on a cigar. Rambling in different tongues can be heard from the entourage. Pale horses toss their head and march on as they tread alongside a train track. Tinkering of jars, lamps, and ware echoes among bare trees. An adamant female German voice calls out, âWeâre almost there, so donât get tired yet meine kleine Familie!â
The brief tumult of Jupiter quiets as a siren rings out. Minutes later reports confirm that there is a murderer on the loose. The details are vague, but the public has been made aware that Delilah and Todd McBrady have been murdered in their home. Their two children are missing, assumed kidnapped for some sick game of ransom. Terrified pandemonium ensues, men busily escort their families indoors. Ice cream dries like thick paste on concrete.
A desert-like field on the fringes of town becomes a temporary home for a traveling circus. At its furthermost side, cattails sway and a small lake ebbs. A petite woman stands, knee deep, scrubbing costumes on a washboard. Conveyance and carts disperse and park along the spidery dirt paths. A blunt hammer is brought down on wooden stakes, soon to be tethered to a candy-cane striped big top. Dwarfs and giants alike work with sweat on their brow. Suitcases and carts are unloaded, not a single personage rests. Periwinkle robes skim the main trail through camp as an aged flaxen-haired woman voices commands and requests. Her troupe abides by her speech like it is law. A satisfied smile comes to her bold red lips as miraculous architecture is erected, to be the entrance of her grand show. It is marvelous in size, its devilish head sporting a wide mouth that can fit any who dare enter.
Progress is halted as a mob of police cars pull up to the entrance. Dust clouds the mouth of FrĂ€uleinâs Cabinet of Curiosities. Her ensemble stands at attention, naturally defensive. Theyâve never had a friend in the outside world, let alone been able to rely on the police for their safety or justice. The blond emerges from the mouth of the devil, elegant in her garb and thick dialogue, âOfficers, how may I help you?â
âYou freaks wouldnât happen to know anything about two missing children, wouldâye?â The commanding officerâs southern accent is senselessly twangy.
âOh nein, how tragisch,â she frowns, âBut we have only just gotten into town, we know nothing of this.â
âSo we have no reason to suspect you, in spite of yerâ appearance just as these youngsters disappear?â
âOfficer,â she presents him with a small flier, the date of their last show, and the upcoming, âI assure you we know nothing. Please, do not waste our time or interrupt further.â
The deputy crumples the bill in his hand as he turns with a grimace. A few of his patrolmen cut the ropes holding lanterns and posters high at the entryway. They crash to the earth. I nestle myself further into a bag, where other circus peanuts reside. I am relieved when a finger stops just a centimeter away from my face, and Elsa speaks again.
âPay no mind to the brainless buffoons running this god forsaken town,â a crooked grin spread across her face, ânow, back to work! Tomorrow we open for business. And tonight, everyone must rehearse!â
I feel the bag jostle. I am bounced to the surface. I can smell the smoke and popcorn in the air. So far, no sign of a hungry hand. If circus peanuts could sweat, I would be wiping a drop from my forehead right now. I try to relax, my time hasnât come yet, has it? Glitter speckles my vision as my bottom is pinched and hauled from my fellow peanuts. I am tossed carelessly into the depths of a sparkly performerâs mouth. I was so foolish. There are so many things I didn't get to see or do! The last thing I witness are his golden tresses dancing in slow motion. His mouth closes. Darkness comes. This is my final act.
But the show, must go on.