She was a circus performer, part of a large troupe if not a particularly notable one. "A Fairie Beauty," her act touted, "Our beautiful Finella." Her act was one of acrobatics, or contortion really. She was the star, but with her there were seven diminutive persons, interchangeable and usually male but they were never featured on the posters and rarely seen outside the act.

On a rather unremarkable day, her troupe of motley performers came to town and with them came the whispers of Her. Of all the acts that were featured, the fierce lions, the motorcycle riders, the odd and fearsome clowns and noble aerialists, she stood alone. I looked at the posters of Finella and saw they did her no justice. Her hair the color of pitch did not gleam as I remembered. Her skin, so smooth and pale like cold stones looked fair, but commonplace. Lips painted a garish blush, yet I knew the true color that lay beneath. Still I could be wrong. It had been many years since the last time I saw her. Time could have stolen the perfect memory of those awful days when I could still call her daughter.

I went into the tent breathing deep the smells of stale popcorn, animals and cheep greasepaint. I bought my ticket like everyone else and found an empty seat. I scanned the arena looking for her and caught a glimpse of one of those ugly misshapen men she worked with. In costume he dressed in stained and ragged coveralls, face blackened with makeup to look like dirt. Even if she told him about me, both the crowds and the changes I had been though hid me.

Still I dropped lower into my seat and let my mind go for a bit. I remembered the past, our past, painful as it was. I was sixteen and had run away from home into the big bad city from my little town. I knew how pretty I was and was going to find my fortune. I did find, as it turned out, a career path of sorts. Not in front of a camera as I imagined, but on my back. Within a year, I was pregnant with a baby. I had no idea who the father was. It could have been almost any male in that lousy city. Still I did not care. I had you anyway, and worked up until about a month before you were born. There are all sorts of kinks out there and the bigger I got the more, refined I will say, my clientele became. After you were born, I became more motherly. Not to you of course, but to the men who desired a bit of a maternal thing.

As you grew, you became more beautiful in the garden of flesh than even me. I was not ill used, but still time, and childbirth had changed me. You were fourteen when I came into our rooms to find some man on you. The fright on your face was plain, but I figured it was what you deserved, for stealing my clients. When he was through, he came to me. Holding the sheet with and unmistakable blood stain in the center. I paid him as I had promised and went inside. You were gone, the window opened as wide as it would go. Silently I wished you luck in the forest of people and buildings.

Years passed and I figured you gone. My beauty stayed, though harder and colder than before. I became the mistress of the house and very renown in my small world. That is until this circus came to town. All they talked about was this raven-haired beauty. How nimble she was. Like and angel or a fairie princess they said. One of my oldest customers even remarked about how much she looked like me. "So much younger though" he said wistfully. Well he is not talking much any more. They are seldom missed, the men that visit my establishment. Although most other customers learn quickly to hold their tongues, when speaking to me, there are always one or two that have to deal with my displeasure.

Suddenly my mind returned to the present as the barker announced her act. Dressed in a spangled leotard of red, black and white, she was carried out on the shoulders of her little men. Using them as props the contorted her body into different shapes and sizes. Becoming fluid and sinuous, she moved like nothing I had ever seen. I, a woman who dealt in flesh, was astonished at what she did. I knew now why the men who saw here were lost. A normal woman would let this little show play out, but I had never been such a creature. After her part in the show was over, I left my chair. Pulling my old coat tight around me and hefting my stuffed purse, I waddled towards the backstage area. Lying and bribing the security guards, I went back to her. I crept into her dressing room where she was and spoke to her. Feigning admiration, I asked for her autograph. Blind to anyone that was not helpful to her, she did not recognize me though my disguise. She signed her name with a flourish, and turned her back to me. As she did, I pulled from my bag a lace ribbon and an apple. Covered with an undetectable poison that I had discovered, I knew her vanity would let her play with the ribbon, and her greed would make her eat that apple. The apple in particular I chose with care. It's skin the same blood red as her lips, and the tender meat as fair as her white white skin.

I left, wishing a silent goodbye to my Finella.


Now some of you are reading this and you may notice some similarities to another story. Some call it a nursery story or a fairy tale. I saw this as well, which was one of the reasons I chose her demise as I did. Remember I always wanted to be an actor, and what better role to play. A villainess is more challenging than the damsel and more fun to play as well. There is one notable difference however. This is reality. There is no handsome prince, and no absent, yet loving father. There is no worshiping the dead. She received a pauper's burial and not a soul remembered me there. The only thing that lingers is some small footsteps outside my door and seven dwarven shadows on my wall.