thenameofthewind-documents

[thenameofthewind-documents]

WRITER’S REFLECTION

    Over the course of the year, I have been attending writer’s craft. A course meant to improve my literacy skills and abilities. The Independent Study Project (ISP) is one I’ve been working on for the final months of the course. Throughout the writer’s craft course, I have been tasked in analyzing different literature pieces, creating characters, plots and researching settings. For the ISP, I have been studying The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss. All of these assignments and the final project have contributed to my growth as a writer over the course of the semester.

    The first part of the ISP which was to investigate the author’s background and figure out any spoken or unspoken connections to their plot, theme, character or major literary devices. Similar to the actual tasks in class when assigned with researching characters, plots or settings, I often found this step in the process one in which I immensely enjoyed but had not explored on my own. I was surprised that I found it entertaining rather than a chore.

    The next part of the ISP, and the most important part of the course itself is, of course, writing fiction. For the ISP we had to create two springboard pieces based off of our novel. I choose a monologue and a short fiction piece. Independently, when writing myself it takes me forever to write anything and finish it. In the course and specially for the ISP,  I had immovable deadlines in which I have to meet. Now having experience deadlines, through stressful and definitely not my best work, there is value to completing fictional projects by a due date.

Throughout the course, and my ISP, I’ve been able to pinpoint problem areas within my writing that with time and attention I should be able to overcome and grow as a writer. One of these areas is grammar and spelling as well as the inclusion of intentional literary language over flowery description which I am fond of. A intention, well written literary device is worth three pages of flowery, fluffy, unnecessary description. Literary devices were were a type of paint brush I didn’t know how to use and didn’t know how impactful it could be until the activity in the course where we had to describe the setting and, in the ISP, when analyzing the author’s writing.  

Throughout this course and the process of my ISP, I have learned a lot about myself as a writer and the next steps to become better. Researching before writing a fiction piece is a step that I will continue to implement in the future. Sticking to deadlines, is a tough but very necessary step in my fiction writing process, as well as continuing to include thoughtful, well written literary devices to add description instead of flowery language as it is much more effective.  In conclusion,  the most important skill the ISP and  writer’s craft class has taught me, is how to look at my own writing and spot the weakness. I think that is the most important skill I have acquired to use in the future.

[thenameofthewind-documents]

A LITERARY CRITICISM ESSAY

The Name of The Wind, A Feminist Literary Criticism

Patrick Rothfuss provides readers an intriguing high fantasy world in his debut novel, The Name of the Wind. The book is full of intellectual battle, demons and a numberless list of characters. Which was why, it was all the more disappointing when an author who writes like picasso paints couldn’t seem to handle any of his female characters properly. Instead of well developed heroines that the fantasy genre demands the closest the audience is shown is a woman, Denna, who seems to be written closer to that of a butterfly than a woman. The Name of the Wind is a beautifully written book about the struggles of poverty, loss of family, and loss of purpose with the underlying tone of good versus evil but lacks female characters, female characters development and female characters with strong personalities. In The Name of the Wind, females characters are unfortunately not characters they’re concepts and this is where the highly praised fantasy novel fails.

    When reading through The Name of The Wind it becomes glaringly apparent that female characters are being used as foil characters for Kvothe to appear more noble then his rival, Ambrose or appear more powerful. The author’s intention probably was as harmless as wanting to showcase the protagonists wit and quick thinking, unfortunately the way he choose to do so made his female characters become objectified and only there to serve a purpose for the male characters. This is seen directly with Fela. Kvothe witness her being hit on by Ambrose, his advances are clearly unwanted and Kvothe steps in to ‘save’ her. He does this by interrupting the conversation while Fela sits there “ashamed by her predicament” (page 311). Kvothe is obviously angry about this, but Rothfuss chooses for Kvothe to verbal combat Ambrose, “God’s body, this isn’t a brothel, in case you haven’t notice, she’s a student not some brass nail you’ve paid to bang away at. If you’re going to force yourself on a woman, have the decency to do it in an alleyway. At least then she’d be justified screaming about it.” (page 312). That’s the most witty thing Kvothe could’ve said? A passage that implies sexual assault is okay because it’s out of sight? Prostitutes (which the audience later find out is one of limited ways girls can support themselves financially) are literally referred to as objects. Kvothe was supposed to appear more knightly then Ambrose but in reality all the author communicates was that some women are less than other depending on their sexual activities.  Fela only appears in the book again when aiding Kvothe in the Archives or when she needs to be saved. Kvothe saves her from a fire, and then she offers to give him sexual favours in return. This interaction does nothing to further Fela’s 5character and only serves Kvothe and the author's intention of him being the hero of our story. In the end that’s all there ever was to Fela’s character. She’s pretty, nice and always there for Kvothe to save to highlight how kind, brave or handsome he is. The message is also seen in Denna, she’s barely a main character, mustly flutters in and out of Kvothe’s life and always shows up on the arms of different men. The author explains this is because of the world building. Women are put into very traditional gender roles, and because of this, they don’t have a lot of options for ways to financially survive in this type of world. In result she’s always is appearing with other men. Once again the author’s intention was probably to highlight Kvothe’s battle with poverty, not having the financial means to support Denna. However, once again the message is distorted and Denna (and women in large) are sexualized. The message the audience receives becomes that women are only worth what they can do for men. Tragically Denna and Fela are just two female characters whose only purpose is to serve Kvothe’s character development.

     The theme of the novel is undoubtedly knowledge is power. Rothfuss communicates this through his plot conflicts. Kvothe always finds a way to talk or reason his way out of a hopeless situation. The characters that are most intelligent are put into a positive spotlight through admiration of the author’s tone. These characters always outshine the character which they face. What does this mean for female characters? With female characters Rothfuss uses intelligence to highlight the ‘better’ female characters and the female characters that get the most development. Most of the female characters in Rothfuss’s novel are pretty and flirtatious. However, the female characters that get the most development are the ones that are clever: Devi, Denna and Auri. Devi is a loan shark who use to attend the University. She is one of the only female characters to have other plot purposes other than to highlight Kvothe’s talents. Devi is probably the best written female character but she is a minor one, only appearing in the University arch of the book. Denna is Kvothe’s main love interest and is also cunning and intelligent, she matches Kvothe’s wordplay, street smarts and people skills. However, she is never given any plot purposes other than to survive (go from man to man) or to be Kvothe’s love interest. In the ending conflict there is an action scene but we never find out how she would have responded because she ends up passed out and relient on Kvothe to save the day. Auri used to be a university student who went insane from the use of Sympathy (magic), she is never described as pretty and is Kvothe’s only friend who is a girl. Once again she doesn’t really get her own story, only that she knows mysterious things about the University and shows them to Kvothe (that’s her plot purpose). The point is this, there are only three female characters in a novel with 722 pages that are written as intelligent, two of them are minor and one is as much as a main character as a female can be in this book. It is an insulting amount compared to all the intelligent male characters in the book: Ben, Kvothe’s father, Kvothe, Skarpi, Kilvin, Arwyl, Lorren, Elodin, etc. Some of these male characters are minor but also have stronger personality traits and goals that go beyond Kvothe. There are no female masters out of the nine that have political control over the University. Once again, Rothfuss sends a negative message; girls in general are not smart, therefore, aren’t powerful. This problem is linked directly from the mistake of making the world have such rigid traditional gender norms without allowing a subplot (at least) for female characters to defy those set norms as well as having one of the only girls at the University (Fela) be used by the author to enhance Kvothe’s character.

If you want to know what an author wants to communicate you should have to look no further than the language and tone in which they use. The language Rothfuss uses towards women in his book is abysmal. The readers needn’t look further than the first one hundred pages into the novel to realize there is a problem with how Rothfuss handles his females characters. The first example is an exchange between Kvothe’s father, mother, and Ben (Kvothe’s mentor). ‘“That’s a clever wife you’ve got there, Arl.” Ben spoke up, breaking the tension, “How much do you sell her for?” “I need her for work, unfortunately. But if you’re interested in a short-term rental, I’m sure we could arrange a reas-” There was a fleshy thump followed by a slightly pained chortle in my father’s Baritone.’ (page 92). The dialogue was supposed to inflict a humorous tone into the scene but this fails and only shows that the world in which they live women serve and are owned by men. They would serve a purpose if a subplot came into play, or a female character, that defied these attitudes but there isn’t. Therefore, it become an issue of the author writing women only to serve men. Rothfuss uses Kvothe's father to speak about women’s hands. “He gets them from his mother, delicate but strong. Perfect for scrubbing pots, eh woman?” (Page 94). What’s more telling is that Kvothe’s mother never reacts negatively to any of sexist quirks he makes, she just takes them in good humor. This type of flowery adjectives like delicate will be a continued theme throughout the book when it comes to girls. As well as a priority of appearance over development put into female characters. The final example, is how Kvothe talks about Denna. “As with all truly wild things, care is necessary in approaching them. Stealth is useless. Wild things recognize stealth for what it is, a lie and a trap. While wild things play games of stealth, and in doing so may even occasionally fall prey to stealth, they are never truly caught by it. So. With slow care rather than stealth we must approach the subject of a certain woman. Her wildness is of such degree, I fear approaching her too quickly even in a story. Should I move recklessly, I might startle even the idea of her into sudden flight.” If it wasn’t crystal clear before, it is now that Rothfuss writes his females character like they are two dimensional. The only thing giving them presents in the book is their interactions and appearances. Other than that, they are just aesthetic pleasing pictures to look at, concepts that he likes the idea of being in the story. Denna is implied to be a ‘wild thing.’ She is not a person, she is a thing. In the end, Rothfuss clearly uses sexist implication and objectification when writing his female characters.

    In conclusion, Rothfuss fails as much as you can fail to write his female characters. They were two dimensional and observed, owned, and treated like objects in the thoughts, action and interaction with their male counterparts. Women are never given the opportunity to break the economic, social or political glass ceiling that exists in the high fantasy world. They are simply satisfied to have men in more powerful positions of society save them.They have no plot purpose other than to serve a foil character to Kvothe. The author through a lack of careless foresight, communicates dangerous messages for his wide audience to consume. Females not being powerful, always beautiful, always grateful for a man to save them, always kind and always helpless. These females character aren’t characters, they don’t have developed enough personalities to have flaws, they aren’t even developed enough to be called cookie cutter characters, they are simply an idea of what a female character is. The female characters in The Name of the Wind are undeveloped, missing personality traits and opportunities for character development while the audience experiences them through sexist language and objectification.

[thenameofthewind-documents]

DEVI’S INNER MONOLOGUE

Kvothe, huh? He definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. The only gossip I hear surrounding him makes him out to be untouchable. But he looked poor. Of course, he would have to be poor or in financial trouble to want to seek me out in the first place. I don’t have any reason to be sought by someone rich. People who could hardly afford to attend the University usually watched their step a little bit more. For the poor there’s no way to buy themselves back in. So to see Kvothe, infamous trouble maker come for my help… it’s unexpected to say the least.

I wasn’t what he was expecting either.  Most people don’t expect a thin tooth pick of a girl to be into illegal loaning. But times are hard and the world is harsh. My dealings attract a lot of students and ex-students, all struggling to improve their livelihood or commit themselves to the pursuit of Sympathy. It’s not how I thought my life would end up. Not when I, myself had once attended the University.

It’s true that when looking at me, most wouldn’t be able to see me as a threat. Kvothe was right to be weary. The small veil of blood I require in return from lending out money is a greater threat than any street fight could be. It also works as a greater insurance of my money being paid back with interest. For someone who is infamous for being so smart and skilled at reasoning his way out of everything, it seems even Kvothe, the University’s youngest genius in training could still be at fault to ignorance. He came to me asking for financial help and expected some large, burly man to threaten him with violence should he not repay his debt. Instead, Kvothe found me. A young adult woman, an ex-student of the University. Who’s own mother doesn’t have any idea her daughter spends her free time taking advantage of the high tuition rates, so we can afford to eat.  I’m much more desperate to keep the business flowing and therefore, I am substantially more dangerous than an everyday thug. Especially, because of the blood I collect from my clients. With my knowledge of Sympathy it wouldn’t be beyond my ability to create a connection and have the ability to kill whomever the blood belongs, whenever or wherever I please. I keep true to my words however, and make it a point not to murder my clientele.

Sometimes I feel my whole life is revolved around deceit. I lie to my mother, I lie to myself, and I lie with my appearance to the general population. In order to survive this world as a woman, a world that has made it quite clear to me that the limited options for my future ambitions are begger or wife, I resort to lying. The only people I can be honest with are my clients themselves.

It was amusing to watch Kvothe attempt to argue the interest rate on the loans, or the loans I was offering themselves. Men like Kvothe think they can get through everything by talking it out, by proving they know best. They’re geniuses and prodigies.

But everyone has a weakness. Kvothe might be able to struggle through the tuition of the University by accessing my loans now, later however, when his reason can't save him from his laundry list of incidents and the Masters ire, money may very well be his downfall.

He’s done the smartest thing for his well being, leaving my shop without agreeing to a loan. But it’s the decision worst for my business and the worst for his goals. Kvothe looked convinced when he left, but I know he’ll come back.

They always do.

[thenameofthewind-documents]

RED

A NAME OF THE WIND SPRING BOARD PROJECT

Ann was on the way home from the market, a homemade, weaved wicker basket in her arms full of corn, beans, and potatoes for that week’s meals. The veggies were heavy but her young arms were used to the heavy lifting of water buckets from the central water well and carrying bins full of laundry.

    Her toes rub uncomfortably in her sandals, she wishes she could get new ones but the harvest this year hasn’t been good, the weather still too cold for the crops to grow and the sun usually hiding behind the fluffy, white, clouds. It was hard enough for her parents to provide for all ten of them with a good turn out, it’s a stretch to make it last when it’s not. Ann probably won’t get new sandals until her rich uncles from the city come with gifts. She always asks for new shoes.

    Ann lifts her head up, she had been watching her old sandals dig into the dirt floor when she hears scandalized gasps. Two old ladies were muttering disapprovingly at the newest poster pinned onto the flower shop window she’s passing. It’s Mary and Rose, both grandmas to a multitude of children and grandchildren. They’re nice some of the time, but Ann doesn’t really want to deal with them today. She looks over anyways, the red paint that coat the edges of the poster are too intriguing for her to walk past.

    Ann skips up to the poster and her smile beams at the old ladies. She tries not to be too bothered when they didn’t smile back. They’re saggy cheeks filled with lines only slump further down with their heavy, disapproving frowns. The nice clothes their wearing, ones with ruffle cuffs and simple lace detail does nothing to make them look more welcoming. Ann thinks that’s what the outfits are supposed to do,  she just feels inferior to them in age and status.

    “This isn't a place for a young girl like you.” Mary says, her baby yellow dress is bittered with the strict tone of voice she uses.

    “Yes, you should hurry along home dear. There’s nothing for a girl here.” Rose comments. There’s calm smile on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks disturbed.

    They block the poster with their backs and purposely stand up straighter trying to cover the poster.

    “Really?” Ann pushes, she’s never really been one to take a hint. “Then what are you fussing about?”

    Mary wrinkled her long, pointed nose, “What’s with that tone? Where’s your manners?”

    Ann smiles back apologetically, she tried to hide her annoyance but with the sharp eyebrow raise she receives from Rose, it probably didn't work.

    “I’ll be on my way…” Ann says, turning around, giving the poster a glance before she goes. She can see reds and oranges, the shades of paint weren’t available in the village. It must be a poster from the city.

    Rose noticed her lagging, “Get a move on, dear.” She urges, “Dinner won’t wait forever.”

    Ann nods, and reluctantly starts moving at her normal pace again. As she leaves she hears Mary scoff in the distance.

“Heathens.” She said, “This town is going to a be refugee camp for heathens.”  

“I wouldn’t fit Mary, God’s people know better than to conspire with the damned.”

Ann’s family farm isn’t really too close from the farmer’s market but lucky for her it’s not really that far either. She isn’t as close as Nancy from school but she isn’t as far as Jona who has to walk a full hour.

    She opens the door to the house, a bungalow, she minds herself to be quiet. She doesn’t declare herself to be home or back from the market. She never knows when one of her siblings could be having a nap, or if her mom has company over. Ann gets to putting the veggies in the kitchen right away and then starts on dinner herself. Tonight’s Tuesday night, that means it’s Ann’s turn to make dinner, something simple and quick as possible, as always.

    As the sun starts to set, one by one her siblings start showing up as do her mother and father.

    Ann’s mother is a wire of a woman, sharp with her jaw line and right angle nose. Ann and her mother have the same sharp elbows. Her mother carries them like a musician his instrument, gracefully with purpose.  Ann carries them with what she calls style, her mother calls it awkward.

Her father is a quiet man, one that hardly speaks. Most times when he addresses Ann its to scold her or tell her she’s doing something wrong. Sometimes she’s glad he doesn’t talk much or else she’d never hear the end of it.  

    They sit around the dinner table, a long twelve seated one, made of wood with wood chairs. They’re hardly comfortable but they do their jobs.

    Once everyone is settled, the food on the table, there’s a soft conversation between her mother and father. She hates this part of the day most, eating together as a family, because it feels like she has to become a fake version of herself. Quiet and non-existant.

    “I went into town today.” Her father starts and Ann frowns, remembering her own trip. IF he needed something he should’ve just asked. “Because the Church has called an emergency meeting.”

    Her mother looked alarmed, “About what?”

    “Apparently a circus is coming to town.”

    Her mother gasps, not unlike Rose and Mary. Sometimes, Ann thinks vengefully, they don’t look that different either. Her mother’s age showing in the wrinkles on her forehead and the prominent veins on her hands. “What is the world coming to? How are we going to be able to go into town for food?”

    “The circus has been cleared a spot on the outer ring of the town so the townsfolk should be safe from any… interaction.” Her father informs.

    “Who even decided to let them in?” Her mother demands.

    “The mayor from the city, the one who owns the town. Some scam to make money.”

    Her mother shook her head, “No consideration towards the religious teachings, only to materialistic things like money.” There was disgust evident in her voice and she turns sharply towards Ann.

    “Ann, you went into town today.” It wasn’t a question.

    “Yes.” Ann jumped at being addressed, her shoulders pulled taunt like tight strings.

    “Well? Did you see anything?” Her siblings leaned forward in interest, and the stern line of her mother’s mouth promises that there is only one correct answer.

    “No.” Ann replies, thinking of the red and orange poster. “Nothing.”

    “Good. “ Her mother replies, her eyes passing over Ann again like normal, dismissing her. If she isn’t a problem she isn’t worth looking at, apparently.

    “You kids know not to go into town without our permission?” Her father lectures, pausing in between bites of bread.

    “Yes, father.” They all replied. Ann less truthful than all the others.

That night, Ann changed from her pjs to her daywear again, and grabs coat and a gas lantern before heading out. Walking at night was very different than walking during the day. The gravel and dirt roads seemed longer and everything was pitch black. There was a sort of freedom that comes with the night, a something anonymous. She knows she’s not supposed to be out but it makes everything more exciting.

    She heads back to the marketplace, towards the flower shop and the poster.

Ann just wants to see what the red looks like blended with the oranges and yellows and blues. Ann doesn’t know anything about the city or the circus but she knows that the poster is bright with artificial colours. She’s never seen anything as bright as that red, not even the painful white brightness of the sun. She tells herself once she sees the poster in all its brilliance she’ll go home. Even then it sounds like a lie to her own ears.

She approaches the poster carefully, shivering, the town is pitch dark and the two feet in front of her are only  illuminated by the light from her oil lamp. The houses look abandoned even when she knows there are families inside sleeping. Ann has never been out on her own in the night before so far from home, but even she knows, without any prior experiences that the town is more quiet tonight than it’s ever been, cold also.

    She lifts the lamp and then her shaky fingers almost drop it because what she sees is so shocking. The colour platee is darker than she imagined but beautiful and like nothing she’d ever seen. There’s an irritatingly tall man standing with a cane with a white tip at the end, and a gold crows head on the top to which both his hands are resting. His face is cloaked with black shadows, white paint was used to highlight his nose and eyes. Red hair, the same red paint brighter than anything, is covered by a top hat. His military style jacket is also red. Behind him numerous people dance, jump, balance, and some even look like their flying.

How could mother and father hate this so much? This… Circus? All it looks like is fun. The poster had at least put a smile on Ann’s face and the sense of awe in her chest. There’s no text on the poster expect for the performance date clearly done caliphory in small print at the bottom. There’s only one date listed, today.

As hard as she squints and as close as she puts the lamp she can’t make out any times or address. She sighs and starts walking towards the centre of town. Maybe if she listens she’ll be able to hear it? Not attend the show of course, but the desire to see the bright red of the tent and the sounds of the performance is too much to pass up.

As she's walking through the quiet streets she remembers what her father had said about the circus being on the edge of town. Moviated, Ann started jogging through the centre of the marketplace, she passed all of the houses and heads towards the very outskirts out the town.

Ann hears the circus before she sees it, the loud clapping, cheering and laughing. She feels doubt in the back of her mind. (“What are you doing here? Why are you disobeying mom and dad? Why aren’t you listening to your elders?”)

But she brushes them off too invested with the light, excited feeling in her stomach. The logic feels cold, feels like she’s back at the dinner table again and not being able to say anything, scolded if you didn’t sit still and keep your mouth shut. The logic feels isolating, it sounds like a heart breaking, it tastes like the steel of the bird cage. Ann doesn’t want to live here anymore, she doesn’t want to be stuck in the small little old town for the rest of her life. She’s always had dreams of her uncles coming and taking her away to the city, something more exciting, something so terrifying but would be worth it. Her uncles always call her Annemarie, not Anna the farmer’s daughter or Ann the simpleton but Annemarie. They said it was the name of a princess.

The tent comes into view. The tent was bigger than anything she’d ever seen, and the red was bright and alive. The entrance to the tent flutters the golden rimmed bottom of the tent glints in the light of the lamps inside the tent. Ann can’t feel any wind but the flaps move anyways and to her it makes the whole experience all the more magical. Ann peels the fluttering tent flaps open and light assualts her face, she winces and looks away. Slowly, she peaks an eye open and she finds herself speechless. The tent is a theater. It isn’t what she was expecting. She didn’t know what she was expecting but not this. Bleachers were situated around the round stage in the middle, there are lights in the the stage floor and a rack of them hanging above the stage, city technology.  

    Everyone seems to be seated in rows and there didn’t seems to be any fee to be paid to attend. If there was, Ann didn’t know what she would’ve done, she'd been thinking of nothing but the attractive concept of it all. Finally, going on a adventure, finally being independent, finally being that city person she always wanted to be. And this was what girls in the city did, didn’t they? Sneak out and go to shows?

    Ann’s not and will never be from the city… but that doesn’t mean she can’t act like they do.

    She makes her way to a free seat, high up at the back. As she climbs the rows she gets an uneasy feeling of being watched. She takes her seat anyways and waits for something to happen. The seats were pretty packed. Is the show starting soon?

The lights were all turned off except for a spotlight that flickered on, center stage.

    There’s a popping sound, loud enough that Anne covers her ears with her hands and smoke appears on the stage a moment later and through the thick fog a figure emerges. The crowd awes and starts clapping and so Ann joins in too.

    “Welcome!” The ringleader shouts. The same red hair from the poster, the military styled jacket and the same gold crow crane and oddly, the same shadows cover his face here as they did in the poster. “Friends and foes from another land!” He grins and laughs and the audience cheers along.

    Ann’s taken back from the energy in the room. It’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes her never want to leave. The excitement is thrilling and addicting.

    “Our first act of tonight is a little less traditional and more modern.”

The crowd screams out again, and Ann let out a shriek along with them, consumed in the crowds energy.

    “We set our scene in a little town, one outside the city limits - not unlike this village. A place where the people rise with the sun and set with it as well. Days where hard work knows no bounds and the people are good. Lin’s a sweet girl from the east side of town, with a large family.”

    Ann was wrapped in the story from the start.

“Why can’t I come with you to the city Auntie?” Lin begs her aunt. Lin’s blonde hair is curled sweetly, and her eyes sparkle under the stage lights, a pale blue.

“It’s a big and dangerous world, my dear and sweet flowers like you aren’t made for the hard times that come from living in the city.” The aunt puts her hand on Lin’s shoulder to console her. A huge fur coat lays over the aunt’s shoulders.

“I can prove myself, I know I can. I just need the opportunity.” Lin says.

“Well, if you’re so determined…” Her Auntie trials off, “I suppose I could take you back home with me.”

“Oh thank you.” Lin falls to her knees in gratitude.

Ann watches Lin dance around, run through the city and yes there were hard times, but Lin with her drive to succeed in the city always did well. She even fell in love.

    Ann was is in love with Lin’s character and her story, it’s like the character knew her, was her.

“Wow,” Ann overhears from  a row below her. “I can’t believe the detail of the plot, the playwright must’ve been a military guy.”

Ann furrowed her eyebrows, military? What does the military have to do with a young girl following her dreams?

    “What are you talking about dear?” A woman answers, “There’s no military only the great artists of the seventeenth century.”

    The sounds of the play pick up again and there was no more talking after that. The couple continues watching as if they hadn’t been arguing moments before.

    Ann looks at the stage in confusion. Maybe that was the magic of it, that everyone saw something different. But to be able to create that kind of optical illusion, and three plays going on at the same time - it’s so impossible that Ann doesn’t even want to start thinking about how it’s done. But if everyone was seeing a different play then how in the world is the theater play occurring? The answers came to her in the sound of Mary's voice - black magic, dark magic, sin.

    The red flags raise in Ann’s head and she knew she couldn’t stay any longer. She feels the eyes on her and searches for them, while debating if she was going to leave before or after the play concluded. Ann brought her gaze back to the stage and felt herself pale when she made eye contact with the red of the ringmaster’s eyes. They appear brighter in contrast to the permanent shadow overlaying his face.

    She brings her attention back to the play and notices something’s different. Lin’s continues to dance around the stage but her eyes are blue and lifeless. Ann notices her smiles don’t reach her eyes and when her aunt starts to speak, Ann makes eye contact with Lin. Lin’s eyes widen and quickly her face melts into fear, she mouths “Run.”

    Ann focuses on the Aunts next and then the store owner and then the extra walking on stage and as she watches them, she realizes all their eyes are wrong. They all looked trapped or lifeless, the actors and actress are barely putting any passion into their lines and Ann wonders how she ever thought this was good at all.

    Goosebumps erupt over her skin, never in her life has she wanted to run so much before. This was dangerous, these people were dangerous and this circus was dangerous.

    Ann jumps out of her seat and books it down the stairs of the bleachers. She almost makes it to the end of stairs, so close she could see the flapping of the tent entrance.   

    “Hello, little lady!” A clown stops her at the end of the stairs, white makeup and a red nose move close to her face. The man’s eyes were red just like the ringmasters. “Care for some popcorn?”

    Ann couldn’t resist smelling the buttery saltiness of the snack, her mouth waters as she sees the shiny popcorn. All her fears suddenly seem muted, what’s the harm?

    “Samples for free.” The clown offers and Ann reaches out hesitantly. The popcorn feels soft and warm in her grip, she opens her mouth to consume it but looks at the clown before doing so. She immediately loosens her grip and the popcorn falls to the ground. Much like the other theater performers and ringmaster she can’t tell what exactly is wrong. Maybe it’s the clown’s facial portion or his squinty eyes but a voice yells to her in her mind, telling her things aren’t right. Lin’s haunted expression flashes through her mind.

    The clown’s expression turns angry and Ann gathers her strength and with all her strength pushes pass the clown, fleeing towards the tent entrance.

    Once she’s through the flaps, she keeps running. Back into the pitch black of the houses and onto the road. She runs the whole way home. As she runs she can’t help but feel like a bird escaping a cage. She bursts into her house, lights another lamp with shaking hands and buries herself under her covers trying to hide from watching eyes. But they haunt her. The red.

    And she can’t help thinking the stories were right. They were all right.