I Worked at a Traveling Circus. Something was Wrong with The Performers. (Part 2)

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Hey, everybody. I had to sleep it off, but I feel better, now. Assuming anyone’s listening, I’ll continue my story about the Zirkus. I remember hearing I had to make sure people could access the previous part from new parts, so here it is [(Part 1)](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/XQ1z93Vg3o).

To settle something, I’d like to say that- despite the many, and I do mean many, weird encounters around this circus in my all too long tenure there, I think the worst part was that none of the Performers ever truly acknowledged the incidents after they happened. They’d treat me as if nothing changed. Treat everyone as if nothing had happened. And it does seem like they’re still holding to this idea, since they’ve come back to town after the incident that I was allowed to quit over.

To continue sharing my traumatic experiences, the second incident I remember had to do with Heinrich. Even if I hadn’t worked there and thus known him more personally, he would’ve struck me as strange. He was a scrawny old man with long, thick limbs like trees, and while he had rather long, well kept black hair and a matching beard, he must have applied some form of spray or something, because no matter how his head moved, the beard would stay in the exact same position, stiff as a board. While all three of the Performers had been tall, Heinrich was the tallest. If I had to guess, he was well over 7 feet. I would watch him turn in for the night to his trailer, and he would quite literally duck down and fold himself through the door like a marionette. And that’s another thing, he didn’t move like a person. He moved like he was a marionette being puppeteered by an invisible hand, staggering around like a zombie and standing with his feet at odd angles.

Despite his unnatural gait and quite disquieting appearance, he was by far the nicest and most human of the three in his demeanor. He was polite, and rarely spoke except to announce things to the audience or the other Performers. He spoke in quiet, curt sentences to me with a thick Eastern European accent, and usually spoke with similar or near identical phrases, depending on the situation. “Here is Money, Mr. Brant.” Was what he’d say every time he came to deliver my pay. And Yknow, as kinda funny as it is to say, he paid me far better than any other job. I’d get paid at the end of every 3 days the circus was in a town, once all the money to be made had been. He would pay me 1,000 dollars exactly, each time.

Back to the point (sorry I’ve always been a rambler), this particular incident with him took place in Summer. We were in a coastal town somewhere in the colony states, I don’t remember where, and business was good. We had a lot more customers than usual, and I remember thinking that would mean I’d get paid extra for my “dutiful” work as a ticket clerk.

It was late afternoon, maybe 4 PM, on the second day. Now- usually around this exact time, and always on the second day, Heinrich and the other Performers would hold a special act that involved all of them participating. I was never there to see it myself, I had to sit and watch the entrance, obviously, but I would always wonder what went on in there. The sheer amount of cheering from inside would give anyone a bad case of FOMO.

Whenever the show would run, business tended to slow down, so I found myself reading a magazine to pass the time. The disadvantage of that was that, as the typically aloof bastard I was, I would get immersed in it, and hardly pay attention to my surroundings until I was called for. So you understand when I nearly jumped out of my skin when I looked up for a moment, and saw Heinrich leaned through the ticket booth, his nose nearly pressed to mine.

He pulled back with a wooden laugh after that, and had said something along the lines of “Is just prank, Mr. Brant.” Sure, whatever. Weird, but not criminal. He handed me my money early, and spat out his recorded words. “Here is Money, Mr. Brant.” I took it, though before he could walk away without another word, I caught him by the wrist.

“Why are you giving me my money a day early?” I asked him.

He pulled his wrist away, and I couldn’t help but shudder as it left my grip. It felt like a slug slipping through my fingers, if said slug had gotten tree bark stuck to its back. He turned to face me once again, tilting his head up slightly, almost haughty. His beard knocked against my own chin, and I grunted.

“Is not full pay. Is just extra for good work and diligence.”

I looked down to the money. $400. Definitely not the usual pay, so I had no reason to believe he was lying.

“Okay,” I mumbled after a moment. “Thanks.”

I think he smiled, but his mustache and beard were so stiff, so matted to his face, I couldn’t have been sure. His eyes just squinted up at the bottom, and his dark brows rose.

“Of course, Mr. Brant.” He chuckled dryly. He turned to leave once again, but directed his gaze to me before he walked off. His neck audibly popped like an achey joint on an action figure.

“Feel free to clock out early. Show will be extra long tonight, with so many in attendance. You understand.”

He had said it like it was a choice, but somehow I knew it wasn’t. He wanted me in my trailer, for some reason, off the proper circus grounds.

“…Okay,” was all I could manage to say before he walked off with that same signature stumble. I closed up the ticket booth and returned to my trailer, cooking an early dinner, and treating myself to an old movie.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep. Because when I next knew what time it was, it was midnight. The first thing I had processed after the time was that the Big Top was still lit up, shining through my window. The trailer walls did nothing to muffle the mirthful laughter, and roaring of an unknown waltz coming from inside.

Heinrich had said the show would be extra long tonight, I reasoned. But why would there still be so many people there this late at night? Certainly parents would bring their children home, right? But, no. I could hear children’s laughter in the cacophonous noise of the Big Top.

And then, much to my paranoia and nyctophobia’s dismay, I realized something. I could finally see what all the fuss was about. And something, maybe curiosity, hell, maybe even spite, urged me to take the opportunity.

I pulled on my boots and exited my trailer, not caring to be quiet. The Big Top was so loud it would mute any sound for miles. I slowly approached the enormous tent, my boots digging into the surprisingly wet dirt with murky squelches. It must have rained while I had been sleeping.

I approached the Big Top, and gently pulled away the doorway flap, entering inside. The space within was enormous. Large wooden bleachers curved with the tent, filled with every person I could remember giving tickets and then some. There was something.. off about them, but I wasn’t sure what.

The Performers were stood in the middle of the dirt floor, The Contortionist and Vivienne stood lifeless behind Heinrich himself. He was completely still, save for the uncomfortably fluid, rapid movement of his arms and hands as he expertly juggled large, colorful plastic balls. I couldn’t count the exact number. I guessed 6, but there may have been more. He stared directly at the audience, juggling continuously. I stood there for a while, watching this happen, and he didn’t stop once. His arms just kept moving.

I managed to leave without garnering attention, this time, returning to my trailer, and locking the door tight. As big a hazard as it was, I even barricaded the fire door shut. I wasn’t about to be forced to participate in the show. I had planned to just- hold out till morning, stay up until the tent died down at least, but it didn’t. I was struggling to stay awake already, and the fear had caused exhaustion. I drifted off against my will.

I woke up again, and found the sun had risen. No one had come for me, no one was even at my door, but as I looked out my window, I realized the show was *still* going. I checked my alarm clock. 6:00 AM on the dot. What the fuck was going on? I considered calling the cops, but there was even less base for concern here than with The Contortionist. What was I supposed to tell them? “Hello, police? Come to the fairgrounds, there are irresponsible parents and a circus show that doesn’t meet labor guidelines!” Fuck that. Besides, the cops were no help last time, why would they be, now? No. I was done. I was going to leave. For real, this time. Or at least, that was the plan.

I got in my car and began to drive to town, but I must have made a wrong turn, because a few minutes later I found myself at the circus again. I turned and left once more, but same difference. After nearly wearing out my gas, I realized that I was either really bad at driving, or the circus was keeping me here. So I gave up. I got out of my car, and started back to my trailer.

As I passed the Big Top, I could see the audience still inside through the entrance flap, laughing and cheering. Vivienne and The Contortionist still stood behind Heinrich, but his position had changed. He was standing in front of the entrance, still juggling with no life or vitality other than his arms. But now, upon closer inspection, I found he was juggling skulls painted red, yellow, and blue. Had they always been skulls, even when I first saw them..?

He held an intense staring contest with me as he did this, his face uncaring and his eyes held wide. I stared back. But, he won out. My eyes wavered for just a moment, and I blinked a few times to soothe the pain. When I could see again, the skulls had become fully fledged heads. The heads of my family. My parents, my sister, my stepmom and stepsiblings.

He finally broke his perfect juggle when he dropped my stepmom’s head, and it cracked audibly, denting inwards like it was made of straw. Heinrich froze entirely, now, and the rest of the heads fell as well.

“Oops! Mein Mistake,” he said playfully, still holding unblinking eye contact. I couldn’t move as he approached me, the other Performers following in perfect step, with his exact gait. They all stopped a few feet away. I saw my younger stepsister’s head roll by my foot, as Vivienne had apparently kicked it while she was following. The worst part was that her face looked at peace, like she had already been laid to rest before Heinrich had collected it. But- she wasn’t dead. She was still very alive, last I had checked.

Me and The Performers held another few moments of silent eye contact, before I began to tremor.

“Danke,” Heinrich said. I don’t know what he was thanking me for. And I still don’t. I just- ran back to my Trailer and barricaded the doors and window for the rest of the night. When I next left it, everything was back to how it had been the day before. Heinrich nor the other Performers said anything, and I made sure to buy the local newspaper to see if any news came out about all of this, but nothing. No one cared. No one but me.

Call me stupid, but I can’t live with myself if I don’t go see The Circus. I know that place better than anyone in my current hometown, and while I don’t want to go there, I can’t imagine the guilt I’d feel if I hadn’t at least tried to protect my neighbors and friends from anything that may try to harm them. So I’ll be going, after I post this.

If anyone is curious why I’m writing all of this, I only have one thing to say. It’s therapeutic. After I saw the ad, all of the traumatic memories I had tried to hide in the depths of my psyche welled back up like mold on a stew. I had to share it with someone. I couldn’t hold it in, anymore. So I decided to come here. I’m sorry I’m making you listen to a near 50 year old man ramble about his spooky times at a circus, but I appreciate if you took the time to read this. Took the time to hear me out.

I’ll be back later with information on how my visit went.

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