{Location: The Eclipse Cirque} (A frightened young boy's POV)

So...high up. The ground seems to spin below me. 40 feet. That's how high the tightrope is. I can't do this, I back up, bumping into a clown in a green jumpsuit.

"Hey," his voice, despite being high pitched is kind. Like he knows what it's like to face something terrible alone. "What's wrong?"

"I...I can't do it." Tears drip out of my eyes, "I hate heights." I'm going to be sick.

"But you've walked it before."

"Yeah, a half foot above the ground. A-a-and I don't have the best balance." I bury my face into his side, "I'm afraid."

"Hey." His voice is soft and kind. He pulls me off and puts me on his lap, "I know what it's like to be scared."

"I want down. I want to get off of this thing!"

"You made a promise." His green eyes hold my grey ones, "I know it sucks. I know it's scary but I know you can do it."

"How?" I tremble as the white clown waves at us, telling us to start the show, "What if I fall?"

"What if you succeed?" His thin fingers comb my hair, "What if you get across and it wasn't that big of a deal. What if you turn out to like hights?"

Try.

I look at the rope then at the ground. So..high. "How do I figure that out?"

He picks me up, gives me a balancing staff, smiling, "You get across. You'll know your own answers then." He backs up, giving me room, "You just got to be brave enough to believe in yourself."

I swallow, taking slow deep breaths, I've got to at least try. I nod, "Ok." I carefully step onto the wire. It shakes. Looking across.

Colorful spotlights dance under me as 3 other clowns mess around below. One in red and breathing fire, 1 in black lifting impossibly heavy things and one more in blue juggling bowling pins. Almost there. H-hey, this isn't too bad. I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to suppress my gag reflex.

Halfway there.

"FASTER!" The crowd boos.

I can't.

This is as fast as I can go.

Some guy hiding in the shadow boos, loudly, "COME ON, LAD! Make my 10 gold coins for this show worth it!" He chucks something.

I'm smacked by something round and squishy.

I fall back, dropping the staff.

Crap.

No. No. No.

I shut my eyes. Curling up. Waiting for a hard drop.

Only to get a soft gentle breeze holding me up. It plays with my hair, tickling the back of my neck as I slowly open my eyes.

The rope.

I reach for it, gripping it tight. Shaking like a leaf. What luck. I guess adrenaline or something kicked in, helping me to not fall and crack my head.

I almost died.

Tears run off my face, smearing my clown makeup, something wet is on my face. I touch it, a tomato? Why waste a tomato on me? Who the heck brings a tomato to a circus act?

"Hang on," the white clown guy crouches low, practically running out to help me up. He's frightfully nimble. He sits on the wire, pulling me into his arms before carrying me back to his side to safety. He rests me against the pole, brushing my hair out of my face, "Are you all right?"

Hights.

I hate heights.

But how'd I-? Adrenaline, that's all it has to be.

"Little boy?" The white clown shakes me, "Are you ok?"

My stomach starts feeling hot and between wimping out on the tightrope and being so high, I can feel something sickly warm creeping up my throat. I jump, climbing the latter down, "Nope." I jump off the last few rungs, sprinting out of the tent. I find a barrel. Gaging behind it.

I wipe my mouth once I'm done. I stay outside until the show's over. I know about now's when I'm supposed to pickpocket some of these fools per Madame E's instructions. But I don't wanna.

"Hey," That guy who chucked the tomato walks over to me, "What was that? You weren't that hight up!"

"I-it was 40 feet!" I stand as tall as any 7-year-old can.

"Shut up clown boy," he pushes me around, his breath having a strange smell to it, "I demand a refund. After that crap show."

"I'm sorry, sir, we can't do refunds."

He throws a punch. Catching my chin.

I stumble back onto a small black staff.

He towers over me, cracking his knuckles. He calls me a name I don't quite understand. He wipes his nose, "I demand my money. Or at least give me some real entertainment for my money." His brown eyes are empty, looking for nothing more than a good fight. He stomps on me.

That's it. I yank my stick up, thwacking where the sun doesn't shine. He stumbles back but not before I pounce on him.

My hits are probably nothing more than butterfly kisses, but I'm pulled off.

"HUNTER!" Madame E's shrill voice cuts through my anger, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A way too beautiful lady in ringmaster cloths throws me off before pulling out money, giving it to the man as he darts away, "I'm sorry." She turns to me, her skin tone make up not quite complementing her thin figure and plum red lips, "You little," she calls me the same thing that man called me. What does that mean? She takes away my stick, readily smacking my rear with it, "I WANT YOU OUT! BRAT! SCRAM! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

I manage to crawl away, darting to a colorful train. I'm getting out of here. But I'm not running away in clown clothes. I rip off the sparkly green jumpsuit, splashing water on my face before stealing some meals from the kitchen and running away.

I duck into a small ally. Panting next to a trash can. Where am I going to live now? The circus was my only home.

Sure it was a lonely home.

A lonely home for a lonely boy.

I lick my lips for water. I wrap up my food as I start digging through trash. I find broken mirror shards in one of them. I hold up the glass, careful not to cut my fingers. Tan skin, steel grey eyes, and jet black hair....with a bright green strip off to the right.

Guess I'm alone now.