The Mind Creative March 2014
Come one, come all...come see the most grotesque beast to crawl.
I kid you not, I never fib; why it's the lobster man of Abdul Karib.
Now step right up to Mister Mort's Monstrous Market(and if you can
find a word to rhyme with market, I'll give you my horse and a place
to park it.) You, I see you standing off there. A nickel will get you
in, but what you'll see..."
He tipped his hat and leaned close. "...why, it's nothing short of sin."
A flash of nickel and the flap opened. Cigar smoke wafted out and
a symphony of voices rose on the air. A dusty floor littered with
popcorn boxes and pink tickets led to termite rotten benches. But
nobody sat.
Because there were no people.
Their voices sang out from a battered music box. Beyond the box
stood a row of cages. Androgynous fingers ripped iron bars.
Animalistic wails mingled with the voices. Uncertain feet staggered
closer. Sweat dripped down a nervous forehead. Hands gripped a
hat. Naked arms
shot out from a cage, reaching, and grabbing. Eyes of bloodshot
rage stared, begging a silent question before letting go. But feet
moved on.
They moved on to the last cage.
An open door waited. A bed of hay and empty water dish waited.
Voices paused. A glint forced the feet to move closer. A shiny nested
among the hay; a shi