RATING: R-ish (Nothing explicit, but it is scary, dark and has
character deaths)
DISTRIBUTION: To Squeaky and FG so far; any other archives are welcome
to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a
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NOTES: This story is based, vaguely on an actual circus fire that took
place in Hartford, Connecticut, during World War Two, during which over
a hundred women, children and men died either in or after a tent went
up in flames during a performance by Ringling Brothers, Barnum and
Bailey Circus. Though it is based on these events, it is not a report of
the actual circus fire, nor is it an accurate representation of any
victim, living or dead. But it is dedicated to their memories.
And yes, I'm messing with history; fire codes after the '30's demand
that all tents be properly treated as to prevent a conflagration. I was
so moved that I had to write this, however. But bear with me and allow
me my fictional transgression.
CATEGORY: Tragedy
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: An Armful of Tulips marks the end of a life given
with shocking nobility...
****
An armful of tulips protruded from either side of her underarms, bright
red and forlorn in her snow-white skin.
To Laverne, they were garish, out-of-place; he would have loved them,
but they just didn't feel proper there. Living, while so much around
them was dead.
They had been watching the lion tamer when the band suddenly changed
its tune to "The Stars and Stripes forever". She'd frowned at the
sound of the music; it didn't sound right, coming at the end of the man's
act. Suddenly; the lions were being shoved back through their shoot, a
rush taking place on the dirt floor of the circus.
Then she saw the fire.
It had started with a tiny pinprick, no more than the size of a dime.
Lenny told her that it looked like a little, tiny star that fell from
heaven.
The next time she'd looked, the entire side wall glowed red.
Horror had spread through the group; her father remembered hearing of
another circus fire, from when Laverne had been a little baby. He urged
them to be quiet, to try to stick together. It was Pop's wisdom that
got them down from the bleachers and through to the front exit; standing
out on a big, grassy, sloping hill, Laverne could still feel her
father's frightened hand pressing into her own.
Relief filled Laverne as she saw the boys trudge up the hill, with
Carmine tagging along behind; they had escaped certain death, she was sure
of it.
Then panic set in.
"Rhonda!" She heard Carmine shout, "Did anyone find Rhonda?"
The slim blond hunched over in her seat, trying to hide a long, jagged
scar marring what had once been a perfect face. Doctors told her that
it was possible, she could be healed; one day she would shine from the
screen with as much Joie De Vivere.
But she would never forget what had happened. It was all her fault,
after all.
She had gone off to get a hot-dog; figuring that she'd earned the
privilege of some real food after nothing but salad for a week.
A rush of people had knocked her to the ground, poured over her, nearly
smothered her willowy frame; a small girl fell across her chest,
sobbing for her mother. She shoved her to her feet and battled through the
frantic faces, trying to see what was happening.
Then she smelled the smoke...
Panic set in; not ready to die yet, not having ever really lived, she
frantically fought through the angry, viciously pushing crowd, somehow
ending up back in the tent, where the sidepoles were flaming high over
her head.
The heat was brutal; she couldn't see what she was doing, where she was
going, and then at the worst possible moment she tripped backward, over
the center ring. Her ankle was locked, wedged, and refused to turn
And then a familiar face emerged from the fire...
"Carmine!" She shouted, tears coming to her eyes. Just behind them,
she could see Lenny, and Squiggy, and even Mr. DeFazio; most of them had
been
The Big Ragoo, for once, seemed to have shrunken in scale; he looked
almost miniature as he knelt in prayer by the casket's side.
The 'accident,' as he'd heard it called repeatedly, had left him
ravaged emotionally. His cockiness had faded, muted; the world seemed to
need a kid-glove treatment from him.
Part of him would always be in that tent, surrounded by the smell, the
heat, the fear. But another part of him had lived to survive it all,
however reluctantly.
"Gimmie your hand, Rhonda!" Carmine ordered; she'd never heard him
use that tone of voice in their entire acquaintance. She threw herself
into his arms and closed her eyes; it was hot, so hot, and she just
wanted to sleep..She didn't even feel a piece of burning canvas brush her
cheek, scarring it. Carmine quickly tamped it out with his fingers.
"She passed out!" Carmine realized, horrified; they had to get out of
there; if it got to the main pole before they were out...
He was shocked to feel LENNY, of all people, pulling him to an
uninvolved side wall,
The tall, blond boy leaned against Laverne's shoulder. In his young
life, this proved to be the worst month he'd ever experienced. Even the
sweetness of Laverne's love, which she now seemed to give to him in
desperation, felt pale and cold to him.
He had never felt this uninvolved, this joyless, in his life.
He wouldn't want ya to feel this bad, Lenny reasoned, clinging
to Laverne's offered hand, He'd want ya to be happy. .
He felt sure that he could do it. He just needed a little time...
Carmine could barely express his relief as Lenny flipped open a
switchblade he'd kept on his key ring for most of his life. It had been a
gift from his mother for his fourth birthday. For once, the woman had
dome something useful for him.
He sliced through the canvas in a clean, easy stroke, parting it with
every ounce of his strength he made way for Carmine and Rhonda, then
himself.
Then they ran, ran until they saw Laverne all the way at the other side
of the tent; her arms were filled with weeping children looking for
their mothers.
Laverne placed a little girl into the arms of her frantic, shoeless
mother before throwing herself into Lenny's arms, weeping. It was only
the second time he'd ever seen her cry.
She tore herself away from him, gasping, "Where's pop?"
They both looked back at the tent, almost half of it aflame now, the
American flag waving furtively at the sky as flames licked higher and
higher up its pole.
Off in the distance, through the shred of canvas he'd torn open, he
could see two forms shepherding children out of the tent.
"Squig," He rasped, "Squig's in there, too!" He tried to battle through
the stream of frantic, combative victims, but a wave of firemen cloaked
in black coats pushed him back.
He would never forget what he was about to see...
Frank bowed his head low, taking two long, deep breaths as he listened
to the priest's sermon. Fortunate, he felt; fortunate and so guilty.
The poor kid, He thought. Well, not truly poor; though the
church sat half-empty, it was filled by his friends, the only people who
mattered to him in the world. Except, of course, for himself, Frank
joked grimly.
Shaking his head against such a terrible thought, He squeezed Edna's
hand; now, every day he must give thanks for the opportunity. Every day
was one more day with his Muffin and Edna, and he should remain
grateful.
They had stayed behind in the tent after Lenny and Carmine had fled
with Rhonda. So many kids, motherless, frantic, running around; he
started grabbing them and guiding them out through the slit Lenny had cut
in the canvas.
Most of them submissively followed his orders to run; others tried to
push their way past him, screaming for their mothers; he refused to
allow them to reenter.
Panting, his heart straining against his chest, Frank beat at a spark
that caught in his eyebrow, "SQUIGGY!" He shouted, intending to drag the
kid out of the tent before the whole place went up.
His nearly cried out at what he saw.
They say that true moments of crises bring out a person's true nature.
Frank DeFazio was shocked to discover that Andrew Squiggman's true
nature was that of a hero.
He was standing on animal's chute, the one blocking the main exit, the
one that the lazy, cheap circus performers hadn't taken down in a
desperate rush to save their own skins. With all of his strength, he stood
grabbing children who stood stranded on one side of the chute and threw
them to the other side, where they could escape through a small hole
that had been made under the bleachers in the tenting.
Frank stood in awe as Squiggy helped child after child, man after man,
woman after woman, until not a single person stood waiting to be
helped. Then he jumped down off of the chute and stood beside Frank.
"Wasn't nothin," He mumbled, "Don't tell no one." Then his eyes went
wide and he shouted, "Jay! Look out!"
Frank felt a pair of hands shove him so hard that he stumbled right out
of that hole in the canvas.
Seconds after the flaming tent collapsed in on itself.
Edna hadn't believed it when Frank came to her with stories of
Squiggy's heroics until person after person he saved went to the local media,
extolling his virtues, praising him as a man.
THEIR Squiggy?! It didn't seem possible to Edna.
Then again, everyone had changed. Lenny and Laverne clung to one
another, refused to be separated by more than an hour. Carmine had stopped
talking of going to Broadway, spending hours in prayer, and Rhonda
simply sat, catatonic, unable to emote.
For some reason, the accident had incurred a positive effect on Frank.
Edna shook her head. It was all such a shame.
"The Mass is over. Go in peace."
Edna helped guide Frank from his seat; followed by Lenny and Laverne,
they all gathered around Squiggy's casket.
Lenny began to sob, "Why'dya have to go, Squig?!" He sobbed, then
bellowed, "Why'd ya have ta go?!?" Carmine rose from his knees and
led Lenny away from the chapel. Laverne could still hear him sobbing
outside, and though her heart yearned to comfort him, she wanted to be
alone with Squiggy for a moment..
Rhonda placed the flat of her hand on the casket. Just lying it there
for a moment. Then she disappeared out a side door.
Frank and Edna laid a wreath atop Squiggy's casket; Laverne could see
that the tag on it read, "With Love, from Jay and Mrs. Babbish." As
they, too, went to console Lenny.
Laverne stood perfectly still for a moment.
Then she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the casket; she
wondered if Squiggy could hear her thoughts, wherever they were.
Who knew that he'd had greatness him him? Besides Len. she
thought, But ya did, Squig. Yer a hero. Then she smiled
bittersweetly and lay the tulips beside her father's wreath.
Each bore the name of a survivor who lived solely because Andrew
Squiggman had discovered just how great he truly was at just the right time.
