• Daunting and standstill; the gloom shone from the devilish layers of bricks and screams. Dawn was breaking. The gardens slovenly lay still; no sound stirred the eerie silence. According to the boy’s neighbours; the door was most daunting. The derelict Theatre posed a threat to any other show casing environment back in the day. Fun. Exciting. A circus performed there. But since that it’s turned grotesque.

    The circus had died and they supposedly perform in their ghostly forms. The seats were full of dust. The stage bristled with fear. No one went in, no one went out. But today it all changed.

    Waxx Shire strode forth, shambling through the main gates with utter ease. There was only one thing on his mind; to watch the circus. To breathe it in. He took a seat, at the back, and watched the pale forms cake the stage in a strange, gloomy sensation. The boy’s heart flared up. They juggled and enjoyed the seconds of reliving the dream. The dream of Enjoyment. Staring in awe at the ghostly beings; they danced and sang. Whistled and bellowed. Immediately he had an urge to join. Well consider this. They wouldn’t want him, he was real. He still chose to enthral himself with this chance.

    Formerly, his friends dared him to enter the building, but they ran away screaming in some kind of grief. Waxx didn’t falter and entered the building none the less.

    The boy seemed mesmerised at the circus, true performers. Entranced, he left the building buzzing as the performers left. The morning sun had risen, as Waxx walked back home. Slipping past his angry, crying parents he ran up to his room. He had no such idea why they were fighting, nor crying. His room was normal, but seemed deserted. Messy as usual. But usually his mother would clean and tidy it. The boy fell asleep and dreamed of the circus. He awoke around midday; walked out of the hanging door and trudged to the theatre. There were keep-out signs, tragedy warnings and newspaper clippings of a boy who died there. Oblivious to this fact, he stumbled on anxiously circling the building, its gardens. Soon, night fell. Shrouding him in dust, fighting and shouting. The door was open; it opened by itself. In awe, he entered the wide spread hall of chairs and dust. The circus was already begun, but this time they seemed to notice his presence as their eyes searched the seats. Each one was full with a ghostly figure. A new customer. He walked away from his chair and onto the stage to greet them. Their smiles disappeared and the crowd jeered him off the stage. He wasn’t wanted on stage. “I want to join this circus.” He gasped boldly but surely. They allowed him upon stage and passed him three, protruding glass bottles and told him to juggle. He performed naturally. The circus were impressed but he still left that morning; with the intention to go back the following night.

    When he got home; tired and buzzing from his night performing with the circus, he realised that his room was empty. All packed up in boxes, some where marked Charity and other’s marked Waxx’s Stuff. His parents were still screaming at each other; crying together. “Two whole days?” he whispered referring to their anguish. He stepped down, quietly and stealthily and gazed upon their conversation. “John, he’s dead. Our son’s dead. And it’s your fault!”
    “My fault? You’re the one that insisted he had fun in life? Going out with those horrid friends of his.”
    Waxx saw a memorial leaflet on the table dated 31st July 1971. But the paper Dad had delivered daily was dated 31st July 1972.
    “WHAT” Waxx inquired “What’s happening ?”
    Dad speaks softly to Mum now “Packing away Waxx’s Room after all this time has made our anger and sorrow raw once more. Even though we have left it a year.” Dad wraps his arms around Mum as she sobs into his chest.
    Waxx ran out through the door and entered the theatre once again. He was a ghost just like them. They weren’t surprised by him at all. “I was so stupid!” he shouted and moaned. He should’ve known he was ghost. He stayed with the circus. Performing for the rest of eternity developing his unique juggling act and occasionally going home to watch over his Mum and Dad.