Collision

              The thorn bushes lining the muddy creek tore at his flesh with brutal force as he ran. He had been running for quite some time now. For his own sake, he needed to find a secret spot to rest for a while. Not only that, he also needed to get away from the angry mob of bloodthirsty circus oddities who were currently in pursuit of him...torches, pitchforks: the usual gear.
         As the last of the tempestuous thorns cut a deep crimson crater into his skin, Ty Powers made a desperate dive into the muddy and shallow creek that inched its way across the nighttime landscape of the countryside. His senses were disabled: he could not open his eyes amid the muck; he could not hear anything even though the creek was hardly a foot deep; he could not feel, physically or emotionally (his day job and his recently exhaustive sprint down a country road made sure of this). But he could taste...mud, and lots of it. And he could smell...even more mud. He almost began to wonder if there was actually any moving water in the creek at all, but presently, he was more worried about the status of the disgruntled and underpaid freaks who were in pursuit of his blood. He raised his head from the mire slightly in order to clear out his ears. If he couldn't see them, he'd have to get a feeling of where they were based solely on sounds. As the last of the impeding substance was wedged out of his ear, two voices floated over the silent creek bed.
         "We lost 'im, Sarge. The ringmaster will 'ave our 'eads!" said the first in a raspy moan.
         "The ringmaster won't accept anyone's 'ead other than Ty's. The li'l devil goes around shootin' whoever 'e pleases, then runs off like a no-good coward! The ringmaster will not stand for this. We're goin' to 'ave to comb the entire countryside before our job 'ere is done. NO ONE rests until Ty Powers is dead and six feet below our filthy feet!" the second man bellowed.
         "Sarge, I'm not tryin' to be smart, but don't you think we should wait till morning to continue the search? Even with torches I can barely see me own two 'ands, let alone that nasty sharp-shootin' scoundrel!"
         "If I know Ty, by sunrise, 'e'll be one state closer to the Mississippi with a new name, new 'aircut, and a new 'it list to work on. There's no way on God's green earth we are goin' to wait till that sun comes up. The ringmaster would sick those mangy tigers on us if we waited that long. You of all people, Squeak, should know 'ow much 'e values Madam Beautram. If someone 'urts 'er, the low-life who caused 'er pain will experience a little dose of revenge, ten-fold!" The man named Sarge grew more furious the longer he rambled on.
         "Yeah, yeah, yeah...and don't call me Squeak. You know 'ow much I 'ate that name."
         "Oh right. I guess you'd prefer Hhhhherbert, then?"
         "Are we just goin' to stand 'ere and bicker or are we goin' to find Ty and rip 'im to shreds?!" yelled a shrill third voice, probably a female, followed by a chorus of angry supporters.
         "All right, all right, all of you SETTLE DOWN!" begged Sarge. "Teeny, Porky...you and your crew take to the 'ills. Fudgebar and Quack... 'ead on into Deacon's Corner and ask the townsfolk if they've seen anythin' off-color. The rest of you, follow Hhhhherbert and I to the main road...that rotten good-for-nothin' toddler couldn't 'ave gone too far!" And with another shout, the remaining mob of circus workers stormed the countryside in search of a man who, until recently, had just been no more than ten feet away from them.
~
         The village of Deacon's Corner sat at the base of Unity Hill: a treacherously rocky "foothill" to a slightly larger chain of hills that stretched as far as the eye could see and almost the entire way to the grand old Mississippi River. The village was home to no more than sixty people at a time, and was mostly governed by Reverend John Francis. Reverend Francis was a quickly aging gentleman who never took no for an answer, even when he asked people if his hair was still black.
         On this particular night, Reverend Francis was in the chapel tower, high above his little village, inspecting the church bells, when he heard a commotion in the streets below. He wearily looked out the tiny window onto the veiled town square and spied two scraggly men with torches harassing an elderly woman in a nightgown just outside her front door. With a heavy sigh, and an even heavier heart, the old man feebly made his way down the rickety tower steps and out the large oak front doors into the night. He wore his usual black cloak, but in addition to this, he also wore a pair of slippers upon his dry and cracked feet.
         As he approached the twisted scene before him, he heard the present conversation.
         "Come on, little lady, why don'tcha let us in for a while. We won't hurt'cha! We just wants ta ask ya a few questions," said the taller of the two men.
         "Go away, heathens! Reverend Francis will not be pleased to find your type in this village! Crossing the Line won't get you anywhere!" The poor old woman was cowering in fear like a mouse before a lion.
         "Yeah? Well the old Reverend's friend, our ringmaster, also won't be very pleased ta hear that one of his em-ploy-ee's is hiding in yer village!" screeched the second.
         "The ringmaster is no friend of the Reverend!"
         "That's enough, Quack. You, too, Fudgebar. What are you two doing so far away from your tents at this hour?" asked Reverend Francis, finally moving out of the shadows of the street to join the strange trio.
         "Ooo, the Reverend himself in flesh and blood before us! Bow down ter the great Medium between Heaven and earth!" cried Quack, falling to the ground with a menacing cackle.
         "Do not mock Heaven, young man. Your ringmaster would be ashamed. Besides, while you're out breaking the Line law on his behalf, I'd at least expect you to behave according to this village's moral code."
         The short and robust man called Fudgebar tried to conceal a snigger, but did not succeed.
         "Oh, little Frank Bard, what would your father think if he saw you laughing at me?"
         "Hey, hey, HEY! The name's Fudgebar, ya crazy old coot! And the next time ya slip up, there just might not be no sunrise in yer future!"
         "Calm down, Fudgey. The man's right. So long as we've overstepped our bounds, we better play it safe. If ya don't mind, oh most gracious sir Reverend sir, we'd like it if we could ask ya a few questions," said Quack in a manner that dripped sarcasm like hot candle wax.
         "Very well, Milton. Ask away." The old man's grin shone in the light of the torches so that Quack's sarcasm quickly flew off like a nervous hummingbird at the sound of his real name.
         "Well, fer starters, have ya seen or heard anything tonight that would lead ya to believe that a fugitive of our own Brotherhood is seeking refuge in yer fair village?"
         "Seeing as I've been watching over my 'fair village' from the bell tower since dusk AND have not heard a single odd noise until your unforeseen arrival, I'd have to say no in response to your question."
         There was a brief silence, in which the three men stared at each other lividly, with the poor old woman still fearing for her life in the background. "Very well," breathed Quack. "One more question, though: If ya were ta guess where our fugitive is, where would ya say we could find him?"
         "Look no further than the bed and breakfast just outside of this village and on your side of the Line." The tenseness of his tone signaled the end of the conversation.
         "Goodnight," the two men muttered as they walked on down the dirt road and around the corner, out of sight.
         "Bertha, get on back to bed. Daylight is still far from us. Do not let their presence alarm you any longer."
         "Oh, Reverend, I thought you'd never come! I never asked for that kind of treatment. Oh, never! I thought the Line would be the end of those circus folk in our streets, but I guess I was wrong." Her delicate blue eyes began to fill with tears.
         "I will not let this incident go unreported. The ringmaster will be informed when the sun comes up. I do fear, though, that whatever is happening here tonight is not over...Goodnight, Bertha. Take care, and give George my greetings."
         "Goodnight, Reverend. God bless you!"
~
         Sylvia Dublin stood, half-asleep, at the counter in the showroom of her flower store. It had been a long day, preparing flower arrangements for three separate weddings. She never expected to be this busy in a village like Deacon's Corner, but there she was: sore, aching, heavy-lidded eyes and all. Just as she was about to collapse on the warmth of her arrangement counter, the bell of her front door rang, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. She stood up immediately, accidentally bashing her head off a low shelf of potted plants, and crashing to the floor without catching a gland of her frantic late night customer.
         "Are you alright?" asked a gruff but affectionate voice from somewhere above her.
         "Uh...?" was all she could say as she tried to get up, but her blurred vision caused her to fall over once more.
         "Oh gosh, I didn't mean to frighten you...or hurt you. I just need a place to stay for the night and your store was the only place in this godforsaken village with any lights on."
         After a moment of recuperation, Sylvia's vision realigned itself to find herself sitting upright on the floor, staring straight at a young, black-haired man in a colorful suit seemingly made of a patchwork quilt. On a second look-over, though, she noticed that he was covered in mud and, despite his calm tone, he looked quite disheveled. "Believe me," she began to say, "this town is far from 'godforsaken', but you are right about my lights. They're usually on all night. I actually can't sleep without them on. I'm paranoid, I guess you could say." She pointed wildly (due to some slight dizziness) at the corner closest to the door, where a shotgun sat upon a rocking chair. "What's your name?" she asked after a while.
         "Ty, and yours?"
         "Sylvia."
         "That's a pretty name..." He was kneeling at her eye level, and eventually found it in himself to help her up off the ground. Then he continued talking. "Paranoid...is that so? What kind of dangers would befall a woman like you in a village like this?" the man teased.
         "None, really, unless people from the circus Cross the Line and wreck the village. But that only happens once a year, if that."
         "That's an awful lot of trouble to go through for a potentially annual invasion? Hardly believable." Sylvia did not approve of the tone the young man was beginning to take, but she let this pass as he dropped the subject. "But really, all I need is a place to stay for tonight...a place where I can keep away from the public eye for a while."
         "You a criminal or something?" she suggested casually. Her question was answered by the silence that followed. Immediately, her eyes grew wider and her mouth hung open as she put her hands out in front of her and stepped back. "I don't have much money or valuables, and my life sure ain't worth the price you'll pay when the villagers hear a gunshot or a loud scream!" Her eyes darted about crazily, looking for a logical escape route.
         "Calm down, Sylvia. I don't have a gun...anymore. I don't kill strangers, anyways. In fact, I really haven't killed anyone...not to say that I haven't tried. But that was different. I was cursed and didn't have much control over my actions." He seemed to momentarily forget that Sylvia was in the room.
         "...cursed?" she asked bluntly. She let down her guard slightly, giving in to curiosity.
         "I was 'blessed with the power to control animals'. Five minutes after that, I find myself inexplicably forcing one to pounce on a woman I was about to shoot anyways. I can't really see how it was much of a 'blessing', in retrospect, but you can't really tie a tiger attack back to a person as the cause, so maybe that was better." There was a silence, only broken for a while by grasshoppers in the fields nearby chirping adamantly.
         "So...you told an animal to attack this poor woman? What had she done to you?"
         "She fired a close friend of mine. She acted all sorry for her, but I'm thinking it was just a big cover-up. No one liked my friend or me, mostly because of my abilities."
         "...abilities?"
         "Well, I've always been granted these outrageous abilities by my friend, like levitation and mind-reading, and I think mostly everyone I worked with envied me. That's one of the reasons they fired my friend."
         "I see...so, after all that...we've come to the conclusion that you won't shoot me or cause all of the insects in the village to eat me alive if I were to give you a room?"
         "Um...indirectly, yes, we did. I think my power might be gone anyways. I can never quite tell when they wear off, you know?"
         "No, I guess I really wouldn't know. I sell flowers in a small corner of the world that no more than sixty people call home. No one has powers around here except maybe Reverend Francis. But I think he only knows how to eat, sleep, preach, and occasionally make governmental decisions for us. That's the most 'power' in this neck of the woods I know of. Sorry."
         "Don't apologize. I'm just not used to talking to people I haven't known for more than a couple minutes."
         Just then, the bell over the door tinkled again, this time revealing a man in a black cloak and slippers.
         "Reverend! We were just talking about you, speak o' the devil...I mean, uh...I, uh...well, what keeps you up tonight?"
         "Some rabble-rousers from the circus showed up to harass Mrs. Clearwater." Ty jumped suddenly, but recovered by faking a sneeze. They were still out looking for him!
         "What for?" she prodded.
         "That's for a different discussion. I'm more worried about what this all really means, and I think you can help me out." He stood just inside the doorway, hands folded across his stomach. "Well, Miss Dublin...have anything to say?"
         "Reverend, if this is about your crazy little notions about me leading a double life, then you are once again going to be sorely disappointed. I know life here in Deacon's Corner is too dull to cope with sometimes, but trust me: making under-the-table money deals with the circus folks is not on my agenda now or ever. It is not worth the damage those lousy excuses for men and women would inflict on our little 'utopia'. That's final!" As yet another silence ensued, Ty decided that he would not let Sylvia know that he worked for the circus. He valued his life a little more after the most recent events.
         "Then how do you explain two of their workers traipsing about our streets?!"
         "I don't know, you refused to tell me!" countered Sylvia. "I'm sorry, Reverend, but I'm beginning to think that you're getting too old for this 'town guardian' thing. You're making up too many stories and it's damaging the integrity of what we have here. Maybe you should stick to just preaching."
         If Reverend Francis' face hadn't been turning every shad of purple and red imaginable, Sylvia would have felt good about her closing arguments. But now she worried about him suffocating in his own rage and despair. For the first time in his life, he had been told that he was wrong. He didn't like it. To him, it felt like some god had awoken a long-dormant volcano. The magma bubbled, the smoke began to pour out the top, and it was only a matter of seconds before the infernal liquid began to explode into the atmosphere...
         Out of nowhere, he grabbed the shotgun from the rocking chair and aimed unsteadily at the pair before him. Blind rage at its finest. He shot at random all around the room as Sylvia and Ty dropped to the ground to seek refuge from the stray bullets behind the arrangement counter. Ty stumbled about, tearing his suit on the corner of a flower pot stand, revealing the branding mark every circus worker had embossed on their lower neck, just before he rounded the corner of the counter. Reverend Francis, amidst his sudden wrathful explosion, noticed the branding immediately and stopped firing the gun. Ty nearly suffocated under the suspense. He was exposed, but luckily she hadn't seen the mark yet. The damage had already been done, though.
The Reverend heard Sylvia's whimpering from behind the counter, but decided to leave at once without a word. When he returned to his beloved chapel, he would call the ringmaster of the circus for the first time since the instantiation of the Line. Things had gotten out of hand, and it was his job as the sole political figure in Deacon's Corner to make things right.
~
         After the initial shock of the shotgun assault wore off, Sylvia and Ty got up from their huddle on the floor of the shop and inspected the damage. If they had been none the wiser, it would have been safe to assume that a tornado had ravaged the tiny flower-adorned room. Flower petals, pot shards, and tons of soil lay strewn across the floor in desolate heaps.
         The two of them had somehow formed a strong bond. In Ty's mind, they were both fugitives of some higher power. In Sylvia's mind they were both riddled with secrets of alternate lives and mysterious occurrences. They both knew that they had to leave the shop before the whole village was at her doorstep, demanding answers.
         Sylvia packed a small bag of food and clothes, then together they stealthily left out the back door and around the edge of town on the higher ground on Unity Hill's rocky slope. As they approached the dirt road leading out of Deacon's Corner again, they darted into a small opening in the rocks: a perfect vantage point of the road and the outskirts of the village. Any commotion made by the people would not go unnoticed.
         Ty decided to recline against a rocky bed he arranged for himself while Sylvia set up a ring of lit candles that she had included in her bag. The light of the candles was much less obvious than firelight if indeed a mob of angry ruffians were out to get them. Once the candles were all lit, Sylvia got some food out of her bag and handed most of it to Ty. "You probably haven't eaten in a while, being on the run and all," she commented nonchalantly. "If you don't mind, I'm going to explore our humble abode for a while. Eat up, and I'll be back before you can say 'more crackers, please'."
         With a gracious snort of laughter from Ty to send her off, Sylvia picked up one of the candles and made her way further down the chilly and void passage. She was glad to be able to get away from Ty for a little bit to reflect on the events of evening. The run-in with Reverend Francis had been a close one in more than one way: she had lied to him about helping the circus. She was one of the ringmaster's undercover "agents" on the other side of the Line, positioned right next to the circus' lifeblood-a source of extra money. After a few more steps, Sylvia noticed that she was nearing her intended resting place. Tiny glints of light shone off the cool and slimy cave walls. The dim, rotating specks began to grow more numerous just as the cave floor sloped down and to the left, finally revealing a large chamber filled with thousand of miniscule beacons from floor to ceiling.
It was her personal model of the nighttime sky. No one else's. Hers...
She had just entered "The Diamond Chamber". She mined it every month and exchanged the diamonds for cold hard cash that then went straight into the ringmaster's pocket. Of course, though, she got some of the money back as payment for her services.
         She stepped further into the chamber, causing a swarm of bats to screech and fly about her head like mosquitoes in a swamp. She swatted them away and, using her candle, found a large rock to sit on. Even in the dark, she could tell that the diamond-strewn chamber was beautiful, but she had been here so many times that its ethereal dimness and value to her life had nearly worn off.
         You stare at the nighttime sky long enough, and it's no longer the same. It was that worn out picture on the wall that no one looks at anymore, even though it was so appealing years ago...discarded by the world's selective memory, and time.
         And all of this was why Sylvia was both excited about and afraid of Ty. Last week, she had been informed by the ringmaster that attendance was at an all-time low and that, even with all of the money from diamond exchanges coming in, the circus would need a new gimmick to attract an audience. She had been assigned to finding a seemingly lonely person with a strange feature or ability who would be a perfect fit for the circus program. That task had seemed just way too intangible until this very night, when the mud-covered, compassionate oddity of a young man had walked through her door flaunting his ability to control the actions of animals. It was a stretch, but it was all she had.
Climb the ladder, but whatever you do, don't look down...
         The only problem was that they were far from the big top the ringmaster called home, and they couldn't stay in this cave all night. They'd have to find a nice warm place to stay, and luckily, there was a bed and breakfast down the road. Although it was pleasant to think of a welcoming bed and the prospect of a delicious breakfast, something about all of it did not please her.
         Another group of bats began to swarm around the chamber as Sylvia pondered the unsettling feeling in her stomach. It must, she decided, have to do with the ringmaster. She valued his opinion more than her own, sometimes. She admired every inch of him, head to toe. It was almost safe to say that she loved him. He had always been like a father figure to her, but only recently had she begun to see more in him. Unfortunately, the feelings were not mutual. He was older, she was younger, he was successful, she was...well, she sold flowers...
         She only knew about his feelings because she had once walked in on him and Madam Beautram, the tiger trainer, in the act. They had tried to cover it up, but to no avail. The damage was done. All this aside, Sylvia still found room to feel loyal to the circus. She had been stupid to think that the ringmaster would reciprocate her love. But she still respected him as a guardian, and that's why she trudged through the depths of this cave to mine diamonds.
         ...And that's why she brought Ty with her tonight. The enigma himself was probably wondering where she was. She figured she had brooded over her situation long enough and better return to the cave mouth so that they could prepare for the trip to the bed and breakfast.
~
         "Fudgebar, I think that's the bed and breakfast the Reverend said ol' Ty would be hiding out at!" gasped Quack. The tall, scraggly man gave a shout of victory and patted his chubby companion square on the back.
         "Yeah, yeah, yeah. And if ya keep yelling so much, he won't be there anymore cuz he'll already know we're here," mutter Fudgebar.
         The two men then ran off in silence along the dirt road to the lighted two-story cottage-style building ahead. When they entered, they briefly took in the humble interior. Just about everything inside was made of wood of about three different shades. It was almost like a ship captain's quarters the way it was decorated, but the two circus workers knew that they were nowhere near a navigable body of water. A small desk, also made of wood, sat in the corner and behind it, an elderly woman reclined lazily in a light slumber.
         Fudgebar, in his most sadistic manner, began to run about the room screaming "bloody murder!" in order to wake the poor old woman. His trick worked...a little too much. The woman immediately jumped from her chair just enough to unbalance herself, bringing her entire frail body crashing to the floor. Fudgebar came to a halt and joined her on the floor in a whirlwind of raucous laughter. As the woman got up from the floor, she began to yell furiously:
         "Frank Bard! Milton Ducksworth! If Reverend Francis knew you were-"
         "Naomi, my dear, don't fuss," hissed Milton "Quack" Ducksworth. "Little Frankie Bard had his fun and now he's sorry, so hush up-no need to brew up a storm!"
         "-but if the Reverend knew you were-"
         "Honestly, Naomi, there's no need ta-"
         "-but you're kind isn't allowed to-"
         "Naomi, it's okay, we just talked ta him about-"
         "-but he would never let you-"
         "-but he did-"
         "-but he wouldn't-"
         "-BUT HE DID!" yelled Quack, in a manner that brought the entire conversation to a screeching halt like a derailed train. Ironically, a train whistle blew in the distance. "Now, Naomi. All we want is ta know if anyone...unusual...checked into yer fine establishment this evening."
         After a few dramatic, heavy sighs, Naomi pulled out the registrar and flipped through it with far-from-enthusiastic force. "No, almost all of the rooms are empty this evening. Anything else I can do for you boys?"
         "No," grunted Quack, visibly stung by the term "boys" coming from the old crone's mouth.
         "Actually, yes," sputtered Fudgebar. "Since there are so many empty rooms, and since we really think that the man we're looking fer could be or possibly will be here tonight, we'd like ta have a room, just fer the sake o' comfort...until we know fer sure, ya see."
         "I don't rent out rooms after-"
         "NAOMI! Just do it, okay? We'll be out of yer hair by sunrise, we promise," yelled Quack.
         The woman blinked widely for a few seconds, then whipped the registrar closed. "Room 27 is all yours, boys." She held out a small key for them.
         The two circus workers cringed momentarily, then grabbed the key and walked briskly down the hall to the left of the desk. As soon as they were out of sight, Naomi picked up the phone. She needed the Reverend here, and soon, before things got out of hand.
~
...Earlier that day...
         The gypsy played with her red shawl nervously as the ringmaster paced the old fortune telling tent on the outskirts of the circus compound.
         "Mystica, you know that I've been counting on you to boost attendance. I really believe that you've got what it takes, but I'm just not seeing the monetary results I was expecting..." he trailed off indefinitely as he continued to pace.
         "So, vat are you saying, den?!" she spat back impatiently.
         "Well, Madam Beautram has been talking it over with me, and she thinks that it's in the best interest of the circus to, well..."
         "Oh, BAH! I'ff had enough of your LIES! I don't vant zis stinking job anyvays!"
         "I'm glad to see that you understand. You know too much, Mystica. You've been around here long enough to witness first-hand the circus business at its worst. All that I've done this past year, well...I had to do it all, you see? It's no matter of business ethics like you think. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and besides, we all know about your little...dare I say it...revolution." The word rolled off his tongue in a mocking manner.
         "I told you I'ff had ENOUGH! Get out of my tent and go back to your filzy tramp of a mistress. I hope all of her beautiful tigers maul you two to death someday for vat you'ff done! BAH to YOU!" She waved her hand wildly, just barely missing the ringmaster's face. She turned her back to him and continued to mutter to herself. The ringmaster looked at her in disgust for a few moments, then bid her good day through gritted teeth and stormed out.
         Seconds later, a frantic Ty entered the tent. His black hair was a complete disaster (hat hair, mostly), completely hiding his glowing green eyes. He whipped his head back as he carefully approached the old woman he had confided in during these first few months as a circus worker, finally speaking when he was only a few feet away.
         "Mystica?" he whispered.
         She was not startled. "Ty, today is a dark day for me. I saw it coming months ago, but I did not count on it happening now."
         "What happened? You're never this gloomy," he said charismatically. She turned around suddenly.
         "Zey FIRED me, zose crooks!" she wailed, throwing herself around his shoulder with heavy sobs.
         "WHAT?!" he fumed. "They CAN'T!"
         "Zey CAN, Ty. It's like I'ff been telling you. I accidentally let slip zat ze ringmaster vas cheating on Madam, and I very nearly told ze Reverend of Deacon's Corner zat ze ringmaster has been stabbing him in ze back ever since zey created ze Line. I know every flaw of zis vretched circus and now I haff to pay for it vis my entire life's verk! If only I had been more prepared, Ty, if only I had a better grip on time, I vould haff begun ze revolution sooner!"
         "Oh hush, Mystica, it's not all over. The revolution is not a complete loss! I'm still here! You can guide me every step of the way! I may love the circus life, but you and I both know that this circus is destined to collapse under its own corruption! With you as the mastermind and I as the acting party, there's no possible way we can fail!"
         "Maybe you're right, but zat demonic crystal ball tells me uzzervise. It's all wrong, Ty. Zis is just not how zings vere to progress!" She continued to sob.
         "Don't worry, Mystica. The revolution will take place. We can dethrone that dirty ringmaster yet!"
         "Ty, you can't just magically bring about ze demise of an entire circus like dat! It takes time!"
         "No, it takes magic, alright. That's why I have you! Just grant me some crazy ability and we'll be well on our way to success!"
         "It doesn't just verk like dat, it-"
         "Just do it!" yelled Ty. He threw the gypsy off of him. "Do you want this or not?!"
         She pondered this for a moment, slightly taken aback by his ferocity. She wanted the circus to be in financial ruin. She wanted the ringmaster and Madam Beautram dead. She wanted to be able to foretell a bright future for herself again, like old times. She wanted all of these things, but it was so much easier just to raise a white flag, pack up her things, and turn her back to the entire ordeal like it never happened...
         But on the other hand, she couldn't just leave Ty to rot in the pit of Hell that was the decrepit circus she was once a member of. She had to give him some hope, even if her most recent rounds of crystal-gazing told her the opposite. Lies hurt, she knew that, but this one was a necessary evil. He would understand in time, though. It would all come together soon.
         "Yes, Ty, I vant zis just as badly if not efen more so dan you. So, in zat spirit, I'm going to bless you vith ze ability to control animals. Use it visely, my friend. I trust you!"
         Their eyes locked for a brief second. A broad grin slowly crept across Ty's face. He embraced Mystica one more time, kissed her on the cheek, then ran out of the tent in a zealous flurry.
         Next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of the big top after his dizzying acrobatic act, his small revolver pointing wildly at the fearful Madam Beautram. The crowd was in chaos, the other circus performers were stunned. The ringmaster was running at him. As he pulled the trigger, one of the tigers broke free from its leash and began to run in-between Ty and the cowering woman. Ty panicked and shielded himself from a potential tiger attack, but all that came was the hefty weight of the running ringmaster pushing him to the ground.
         Bruised rib? Very likely after all that.
         From the dirt and grime of the tent floor, he saw the tiger roaring through the air and onto Madam Beautram. Just as he and the ringmaster had went crashing to the ground, so did the woman and the tiger. Had he just made that tiger attack Madam Beautram? The only thing he could remember from then on was some enraged co-workers, the dark night sky, and a never ending marathon to the finish line at the bed and breakfast hours later.
         Watching Ty escape into the darkness followed by a barrage of circus freaks brought an odd mix of satisfaction and rage to the ringmaster. On one hand, Ty was getting what he deserved, and on the other, his star acrobat had just tried to kill the one woman the ringmaster truly loved. After a few moments of mental paralysis, he got up from the ground and ran over to his beloved. He struggled for a bit to roll the tiger away, but eventually he was able to help the Madam off the ground. And that's when he finally realized something: Ty had shot the tiger by accident, leaving Madam Beautram simply battered by the falling tiger. The best was not dead, but it was bleeding pretty well. AS he brought his love to her feet, he looked into her ashen face.
         "I'm fine," she breathed. "We need to worry about Gilroy now. He's been shot." She nearly fell over again. "Franz, where's the veterinarian? It'll be too late if he...he-"
         "Shhh," said the ringmaster. "Just sit down, I've got this under control."
         Within a few minutes, the veterinarian arrived and had some preliminary patch-up work done. "This is too serious for me to handle with the resources at hand. It's not everyday you have to treat a tiger for a gunshot wound," he muttered, frowning at the ringmaster like it was his fault.
         In a convoluted sort of way, it was...
         "Okay, so what do we do now?" asked Madam Beautram from a chair a few feet away.
         "Well, I could phone-in a professional veterinarian from the city, but that could take a while."
         "Do it!" Madam Beautram bellowed even before the veterinarian had finished his sentence.
         "Uh...well, fine. He won't be able to come out here, though-no roads. The closest road is the one going into Deacon's Corner."
         The ringmaster jumped into the air immediately. "Do NOT talk about that town in my presence! That reverend and his little army of zealots will be the death of me!" He was breathing heavily now. "Besides, enough of our kind has crossed the Line tonight. The tiger is expendable in my eyes..."
         "FRANZ! You CAN'T! Gilroy is the ONLY tiger that can perform the hardest stunts! I LOVE that tiger more than life itself. You HAVE to save him, no matter WHAT!" babbled Madam Beautram, as she repeatedly tried to get up from her chair. "Franz, please..." She finally calmed down with the help of the veterinarian, and was soon back in an entranced state of shock-induced apathy.
         "Excuse her, good doctor, she's been battered beyond immediate repair this night. But she's right, this tiger is more important to our operation than I initially expected. If we must, we could camp out at the bed and breakfast, but that's a far walk through the woods..."
         "Naomi would not be very thrilled to see you, sir. You've played her too many times before. She'll be very weary of your presence, especially if the Madam and the tiger come along," piped in the veterinarian.
         "You might be right, but it'll have to do. It will actually be easier that way, come to think of it. Before this ruckus came about, I was going to meet with one of our agents about a new act to boost our attendance. She's very reliable-you know her: Sylvia Dublin from the village."
         "Oh, the flower girl. She's your agent? How unsuspected!"
         "That's the point, good doctor. She's been bringing in the extra money we need to keep the show going for a long time. Without her, we'd be nothing! Hopefully she remembers our little appointment. I can't imagine she would."
         "She's always on time when she delivers flowers, so there shouldn't be a problem. I'll go get the animal carriage and the horses ready so that we can haul Gilroy to the bed and breakfast without a problem. A wounded tiger could never walk all that way. I can drive, unless you wish to."
         "No, you go ahead. I'll stay in the carriage with Gilroy and my love."
         "It's a plan. We'll meet on the edge of the woods in an hour."
~
         Naomi sat on the edge of sleep. It had been a pretty eventful night thus far, but that didn't stop her from being tired. Two of her least favorite circus workers had come through a few minutes ago, and she had grown increasingly suspicious ever since. Every noise she heard brought her out of her light slumber, to the point of panic. If she were in her right mind, she would own a gun like the sweet little Sylvia down the street at the flower shop. But, at least for this night, she was able to call in the Reverend to keep her company. During their phone conversation, it became apparent that there was havoc being wrought all over Deacon's Corner by the deplorable and godless ones. The Reverend had said that three of them were running around the village, and that he had been forced to pull a gun on one of them. All Naomi wanted to know was where the third one was. That would put her at ease.
         Just then, the sound of a horse carriage pulling up to the front door brought her out of sleep again. Crunching footsteps and angry cries put her on edge. Who was visiting at this hour of the night?
         It was the ringmaster, and of course his putrid "better half", who was unnaturally pale all over. And what was that with them, a tiger...? Naomi thought she was dreaming! A tiger, a living and breathing tiger...in HER store?
         "Naomi," began the greasy ringmaster, "I hope you don't mind, but the Madam and I need a place for Gilroy, here. He's been accidentally shot and needs a place to rest until the veterinarian from the city can come in."
         "What's wrong with your veterinarian, Franz? Is he not dirty enough for you?" Naomi sneered.
         "Now, now, my dear, let's not be too harsh. I could easily have the Reverend out here to show him how unfaithful you've been. Besides, our veterinarian doesn't treat gun wounds." He grinned evilly and simultaneously pointed to the wounded tiger.
         "I have not been 'unfaithful'", replied Naomi through gasps of shock. "The Reverend knows that!"
         "Does he? The last time I checked, he was ready to put you out of business because you-"
         "You don't know what you're talking about," she cut in shortly.
         "Oh, Naomi, I'm afraid I do. You've been paying us under the table for years, assisting Sylvia with the diamond exchanges! You think I wouldn't tell the Reverend all of these things? You're sadly mistaken!"
         "LIES! ALL LIES!" The old woman's face was now a dangerous and shimmering shade of crimson red.
         "Hush, dear. No need to fuss. When two worlds collide it's never as painful as we make it out to be. It's almost like everything is forgiven and erased and we can just start over again. You should try it sometime."
         "Don't preach at me, you hypocrite! I am not one of your little agents no matter what you say! If you really wanted to know, two of your little minions are camped out in Room 27! Go and ruin their futures like you ruined mine! Get out of my sight!" With that, she broke into tears and ran into the storeroom behind her desk and slammed the door behind her.
         "So, the reverend was right when he called-Fudgebar and Quack are still out on the prowl. Good thing, that Ty Powers will pay for what he's done," growled the ringmaster, even though he still wore a faded grin of satisfaction lingering from the past conversation.
         The veterinarian entered just then. "Sir, the horses have been tied up and fed. Did you get a room?"
         "Mostly. Our two high-divers are already here, probably on the look-out for Ty. You, Madam Beautram, and Gilroy can go back to Room 27 and rest until the city veterinarian gets here."
         "I am very tired, indeed. Where's Naomi?"
         "She, uh...went to take care of some things in the storeroom,"" the ringmaster lied nervously.
         "Very well. Come on, dear Madam. You need rest even more than I do. Gilroy will be just fine." And with that, the strange trio was soon out of sight. The ringmaster was only alone in the bed and breakfast's lobby for mere moments when Reverend Francis burst into the front door.
         "Franz, you outrageous fiend, what kind of operation do you think you're running here?!"
         "Ah, my not-so-esteemed colleague, Reverend Francis! We were just talking about you!" said the ringmaster, as his sinister demeanor was restored once more.
         "Colleague? I think not! Your people have been gallivanting about my precious village all evening! The Line has been crossed! You broke your promise...although I'm not surprised!"
         "I'm not the only one who breaks promises! And, unless you haven't noticed, the Line never really existed in the first place! My workers and I have been crossing it ever since we created it!"
         "Once again, I am not surprised, but that does not excuse any of your actions! I have suspected that some of my villagers had been converted by you to be secret agents. It really tells a lot about your operation when you have to rely on diamond money instead of ticket sales!" scoffed the Reverend.
         "Diamond-mining is a respectable business, thank you very much! It's certainly much more respectable than your operation, Reverend!"
         There was a pause, then, in which a faint growl of a tiger floated down the hallway.
         "I think you've got it all wrong, Franz. I kept our agreement from the old days. You didn't. That's a fact." The Reverend had suddenly become reserved. Every wrinkle and gray hair on his head was emphasized by the quiet blanket that had laid itself over the bed and breakfast.
         It was going to suffocate everything, all the way to the end, and then some.
         "You sick old man, you don't think I know that you hired Mystica to bring down my circus? Why do you think I fired her today?! You've been trying to bring me down even before that Line was created. Our promise to each other was to never have to meet like this again. Looks like we both lose, friend."
         "I hardly think that my so-called breaking of our promise is as bad as yours. Morals before money, Franz..."
         The ringmaster then let out a hearty laugh. "You never cease to amaze me! You and your self-righteousness! Belittle your sins all you want, but someday they'll come back and eat you alive from the inside out. You know I only broke the promise because I knew you would, too. And you did. I'm willing to start over if you are. We can wipe our slates clean and help each other out. What do you say?"
         But before the Reverend could answer, the front door opened one final time. After the footsteps of the new visitors halted just inside the door, all was silent. The ringmaster and Reverend Francis stared blankly.
         "Mr. Ringmaster, sir, I'm sorry that I'm so later, but we hit some problems in the village. I have the answer to all of your problems! His name is Ty Powers!" As she finished her sentence, Sylvia Dublin looked around the room: the ringmaster, her true guardian, the man she reserved all of her earthly love for, the man who gave her purpose...and next to him, Reverend Francis, a man who if nothing else, provided her with a safe place to live and a sense of righteousness. They were standing side by side, which confused her, and they looked nearly peaceful, except for hints of bewilderment on their faces.
         Behind her, Ty Powers was completely paralyzed by fear. The ringmaster wanted him dead, six feet underground, and here was Sylvia claiming that he was the answer to all the ringmaster's problems. And then the Reverend, who also probably wanted him dead, had seen the branding on his neck and nearly shot him to death.
         Two worlds collide. What else can be said?
         Madam Beautram, Gilroy, the veterinarian, Fudgebar, and Quack all crept into the lobby and paused just inside. Madam Beautram, even in her state of shock, blushed: the man she loved and the woman she despised, standing no more than a few feet away from each other, staring...
         Two worlds collide. What else can be said?
         Gilroy growled softly at the sight of Ty. The high-diving duo wanted desperately to wring Ty's neck, but they saw that he was with Sylvia, and she was a respectable authority...and, the ringmaster hadn't already killed Ty himself. Naomi, wiping tears from her face, opened the storeroom door, but stopped upon seeing the silent crowd before her: The Reverend, her cornerstone, next to the ringmaster, who she tried so hard to hate but never found the courage, even if she hated the circus itself...and not too far from them, the two demons who always taunted her (stupid circus freaks), and then, by the door, the young man who everyone must have been waiting for (but he looked so nice!), next to the woman who betrayed the Reverend for money, like she had. What a day, she thought, all these people here, and only one room rented. What a shame...
         Two worlds collide. What else can be said?
         For all anyone knows, the group of people who met on the edge of Deacon's Corner in a wayside bed and breakfast, somewhere between a corrupt circus and a crumbling utopia, could have stood there in glorious, vacant silence for the entire night-they could have stood there for days, weeks, months, years, or an eternity.
         And really, what else could they have done? They could have tried to kill Ty, but Sylvia wouldn't have let them. They could have tried to come to an agreement like the Reverend and ringmaster tried, but what promise ever makes it without being slightly broken or amended?
         When two worlds collide, what else can be said? On one hand, one could say it to be a painless freeing of the past, where all is forgiven and made new, or on the other hand, one can say it to be a denial of the truth that furthers the powerful and corroding force of suppressed sin...
         Later that night, a veterinarian from the city arrived by train to the tiny village of Deacon's Corner to treat a tiger that had been shot. He rode a carriage out to the bed and breakfast he had been told to go to. No one was outside it, no one was inside it. The only sign of life was a small red shawl lying on the forgotten earth, blowing gently in the pre-dawn breeze. The city veterinarian used the phone to call the circus veterinarian. No answer. He figured that the tiger had been taken care of. He adjusted his thick glasses, ran his hand through his thinning blonde hair, and got back in the carriage to head back to the train station.
         Police reports the next morning were vague and contradictory. Some said that a dynamic duo, male and female, of murderers and thieves were roaming the countryside, searching for diamond-filled caves. Others said that a tiger had escaped the control of the circus managers and taken the lives of a few unfortunate bystanders. Still others stated that an entire circus compound had been burnt, pillaged, and robbed (either that or they all just left town).
         No matter what the police said, the veterinarian from the city stayed awake for nights after his quirky visit to the countryside because of a strange noise he thought he heard before leaving the bed and breakfast: a dry and aged cackle, floating in the ambiguity of the cold night air...
         Two worlds collide. What else can be said?