Three Ring Circus: An Introduction

   As the audience sat in mute darkness, a spotlight snapped on the right ring. In the centre of the circle, a woman sat atop of a bloodstained oak table. Her arms were missing from the shoulder, the flesh stitched closed. The eyelids were melted closed, the lashes burned away. Over her mouth, a brace held the lips open, clamps forcing the teeth apart. The metal device wrapped around a shaved skull, her head rolling with pleasure. Hips ground perversely against the surface, crushing the vagina with each pull. Her legs were missing, the stumps on the thighs sewn. Her breasts were bare, the nipples pierced through with dull studs. Her groin was hairless, a tattoo of a heart over the clitoris.

A second spotlight snapped, lighting up the far left ring. A large dog lay on its side, legs akimbo. The muzzle slack, its tongue lay on the floor. Flies buzzed like a cloud around the corpse. The ribcage was exposed, flesh and fur torn away in shreds. A naked man, emaciated to but shades on pale grey flesh, crouched over the dead beast. His hands held the rubber entrails of the animal, caressing them with thin fingers. Eyes flickered to and fro in jerks as he masturbated his lengthy member. Short steel spikes protruded from his scalp like tiny slivers of reflective hair and his mouth drooled blood. Ill yellow semen erupted from his glands into the gaping damage of the beast.

The final light, the centre ring. A lone man stood, dressed in a tuxedo and top hat. He was but three feet tall with a skull painted over his face.

The Ring Master. He raised a microphone to his lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bitches and fuckers. Children served in every way. Welcome to the Three Ring Circus! Tonight we bring to you the violent representation of hatred most pure. A sexual carnage presented through the submissive surrender of gore and beauty combined.”

“A torso for your pleasure and a feast of the beast.”

The spotlight vanished off the right ring, followed by the left. He stood alone in the darkness, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen. You bitches and every fucker out there. Allow me to introduce to you the master of masters. The ego feeding upon egos. A sinner of saints.”

“Mr. Grin.”

The centre light vanishes, plunging everything in darkness. Moments pass. The right ring returns.

A woman knelt on an altar of stone, side to the audience. She wore a nun's habit made of latex, raven hair hidden beneath the wimple. The chest of her robes was tailored around her breasts, exposing smooth round molds and hardened pink nipples. Black lips showed prominently on her smooth white face, eyes veiled by long lashes. Around her neck hung a large wooden cross, reversed in fashion. Three men surrounded her, each nude and muscular. She pulled consistently at two hardened members, the third swallowed to the pubis within her throat. Each male wore a full mask of an animal, the details of realism grand; a lion, a wolf and a sheep.

The left ring returned, a man suspended off the ground by a length of rusted chain. The end vanished into darkness. He was bare, the sinew stretched with strain, head wrapped in a black burlap sac. Feet struggled to touch the ground as a second man entered the ring. Wearing a surgical apron and mask, he carried in a gloved hand a long razor. His bald head lacked the cap of the skull, brain exposed. Solemnly he stood before the suspended victim and with dextrous precision, began carving the flesh off the man's stomach. From the bag came an excruciating scream.

The third circle lit up on a solitary man, his shaved head and goatee prominent above a priest collar and robes. He stared toward the audience, a speaker phone painted black in his hand.

Mr. Grin.

He raised the microphone to his mouth and shouted.

“God!”

A pause. He spoke gently, his voice carrying lightly.

“This is my existence. A nightmare in my nightmare. My halls of desolation and chamber of eternal sorrow. Misery to your right, reality to the left. We, caught in the middle, stand alone against a hypocrisy of society and the vile rape of our future.”

“Within my mind rests the one-shot two step, a macabre dance of visions wrapped further in visions. A city built on gore and lust. A kingdom raised on chaos. We live in the underbelly crust of secrets, walking on graves and corpses, eagerly aware that our very existence exists solely on the simple fact that humanity is lost and we are the monsters we bear.”

“I am the monster we bear.”

To the right, the men stepped back from the woman and she lowered her face in reverence. Hands raised before moist lips in a mockery of prayer. The three pulled at themselves, their glands aimed, each in turn ejaculated on her bowed face.

To the left, the doctor stepped around the hung man, revealing a fleshless torso. Red muscle shined with blood. The head within the sac twitched in violent spasms, the penis below the carved layer standing erect in a climax of agony and suffering.

Mr. Grin continued.

“This is our tragedy. The children of children. The violated meaning coiled in godlessness and blasphemy. We create for the sole purpose of destruction and revel in the abuse of our fore fathers. We bring to light a darkness so thick of foul fog we choke on the scent and strangle on the meaning. Our race, of colour or blood, crawls like the mindless ants of a colony aimed at feeding off each other.”

“And I embrace it.”

“I coddle the heartless and the cold. I embrace the dead and unwilling. I wrap myself in misery and reality, curled within a shroud of horror and fact.”

“We are disgusting creatures. We are the everlasting fuck that strives to destroy any sense of logic and drown the infant hope in a pool of piss and terror. We shatter our innocence like a victim of rape and the perpetrator of which take is take and giving is all that's left.”

Silence. He lowers the speaker yet his voice floats on.

“Face it. We are all capable of such things. All guilty of crimes never committed yet forever achieved. We have inside us a creature of distorted morals and gutted values and to each of us we venture curiously. Seeking forever the limits of our discomfort and the towers of our hate.”

“We want to fear. We want to squirm. We want to swallow and force every putrid thought like the coated pill of reason. And I willingly present it to you.”

The lights vanish, plunging the flanking rings into inky nothingness. Mr. Grin stands alone, a beacon of blasphemy.

“This is my mind. Please come inside.”

The centre circle fades away. A distant buzzing of flies blend lightly with the hollow moan of primal pleasure and the wailing of a babe. In the darkness the sounds fade, leaving nothing.

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Any comment or feedback is welcome.

This Is Our Home

 If you were to come down off the overpass and head east along Dreton Drive, you'd eventually come across a dive bar called The Dog. By turning left at the lights, and then crossing underneath the train rails, you'll be following the Campor District. This is where most of the bums and drug addicts hide from their shit ass reality. Continue along until you come to a laundry mat known as Mal's. That hole was once used by the mob. Now it's owned by some Asian dick and his ancient wife. Take a right, and after following the curve through rows of apartment buildings, you'll find yourself in the Grives Industrial Park. On your passenger side you'll see a strip joint named Black Tie Event. Travel along until you reach a right turn, and head down that way.

The abandoned two story homes erected in the area are known on the street as The Slums. Not a very creative name but it's the honest truth. Almost every house in the neighbourhood is a piece of shit. After about four blocks and one more left turn, there's a house on the driver's side. The one with the faded white fence and no grass on the front lawn. The one with the damaged grey siding and the tar black shingles. That's where we live.

My name is Skiv. It's not my birth name, but by the time I was fifteen, everyone called me that. I'm lucky to remember my real name on some days.

I don't live alone in this dump. The second you come up the rotting porch steps and pass into the main entrance, you'll find the bare and vandalized living room on the left and a dining room with a plywood table and shitty chairs to the right. Odds are, sitting on the busted up green couch stoned out of their fucking mind, you would find the twins Mira and Tia. They usually vegetate there, staring at the T.V. that hasn't worked in ages. These black girls aren't even eighteen yet, but we have no fucking clue how old they really are. All we know is that at some point in their lives they ran away from home, together, and somehow ended up living in this house.

Fuck, half the time I wouldn't know which one is which if they didn't have different hairstyles. Mira's the one with the shoulder length hair while Tia has the short spikes. They even dress the same most of the time, wearing short skirts and tube tops that flash their shit everywhere. See, they pull tricks down near the strip place I mentioned, over at the Black Tie Event. Every now and then they disappear for a night or two, fucking some bastard before winding up here again.

Either way, as twins go, their pussies are pretty much the same.

Through the dining room is the kitchen, with a broken fridge and disgusting sink. The cupboards have fucking mouse droppings in them and the floor is stained with blood. The oven is missing the door and the window was smashed ages ago.

If you climb the stairs to the landing, there's three more doors. One is the bathroom. Half the time no one flushes, because you never know if it'll come bubbling back up. For a piss we usually go outside. The mirror was shattered when me and Davo had a fight and he smashed my head against it. The bath tub... let's not go there just yet.

The room on the left, well, that's kind of a crash room. There's a mattress on the floor, a bunch of candles on a wooden box and the window was painted completely black. The closet holds some of our shit, but usually we don't have much in there. There's a chair that gets used on occasion, this fucked up old electric chair with the skull cap missing. The straps on it are still good though. Davo and I dragged it all the way from the abandoned correctional compound located near the bin yards.

The other door from the hallway leads to the second room. That's usually where Coco hangs out. If there is one thing you need to know about Coco, it's that you never, ever want to stare too long at him. The guy is a good 6'6”, maybe taller for all we know. Built like a brick shit house, his bald head is covered with this creepy tribal tattoo he claims was forced on him by some gang. Either way, he's a freak . If Coco is in his room, then he's on one of his dates. And by date I mean he likely has a sobbing chick screaming as he rips her arm completely off.

Yeah, he's a sick fuck. But we all are. Davo, Coco, the twins and I. We live this sort of uninhibited existence here.

See, there's not a lot of cops that come around this place. The Slums have pretty much fallen out of their jurisdiction. Literately. People come here and they just disappear. And odds are, if they did, it was awful, it was painful, it was disgusting and it happened right here in this house.

Shit, that's right; Davo. This guy and I, we go way back. Since junior high. We were the best of pals, and when we ran from home, we did it together. We ended up living in this house, and that's how shit got messed up, but we were pals through it all. We've been through crazy times together and still came out in the end as the best of friends. The fight that broke the mirror in the bathroom? That shit was nothing compared to what we had.

If you head back down, there's a rear exit around the stairs leading outside to the yard. Not much to mention there other than a tree we sometimes hang people from. But behind the stairs there's a way leading into the basement. That's where Davo spends his time. There's no walls or anything down there. It's just the concrete foundation, rafters for a ceiling and cement for a floor. The space is always damp and chilly, but he seems to prefer it for that.

Davo is sort of what you might call a punk, if a punk was a sociopath, rapist and cannibal. He's got the mohawk, though it's more like a short strip of black across his head, and a long goatee. He's usually topless, showing off the canvas of ink work on his body.

And he's more insane than anyone in this house.

That's us, I guess. This is our home. This is where we lived, ate and fucked with lives. Sure, we were sick and twisted, but we had a place to call our own. Things would have stayed simple, too, until the one day where I fucking changed things forever.

It must have been some time in the middle of summer. If we had grass it would have been green, and if we ever went out during the day there would have been blue skies. When I awoke on the mattress, I found that I wasn't alone. This is sort of unrelated, but when you wake up sometime in the evening and find that there's a naked bitch strapped to the electric chair, it reminds you of how surreal life can get.

Just saying.

The blond was staring at me, all terrified and such, arms and legs tied down and a ball gag in her mouth. Her tits were bouncing because she was breathing so hard, and she looked like she'd been crying for hours. Regardless of all that, I promptly headed out of the room, ignoring her desperate stare. Whatever Coco had in mind for that cunt didn't involve me, I was sure, and I couldn't care less about another body in the basement.

Mira and Tia were missing. Instead, there was this kid lying on the couch. No joke, this boy must have been around twelve or something. His little bald head was pale and he was passed right out. He smelled like shit, and there was a bile coming from his mouth. I'm not sure what an overdose looked like but the little dude was at least breathing. Not that it mattered.

I really had to piss and went out the back. The sky was getting dark and was overcast . Hanging from a noose in the tree was some asshole we lynched for fun. We had stripped him naked and Coco cut his dick off before hoisting his screaming ass up. He was dead, but I still stood there a moment and rubbed one out, shooting come on the puddle of piss I had made.

Going back into the house, I heard the door upstairs open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. Then another door squeaked and I knew that Coco was in the mattress room with that girl. Walking around through the entrance and dining room, I entered the kitchen. The fridge door was open. Yeah, I said it was broken, but we could still keep beer in there and it would stay cold for a while. Sticking out from behind the door was a bare brown ass and long legs. Without seeing a hairstyle, though, I wasn't going to make guesses on which twin it was, so I just waited. When she rose holding a can of Mountain Crest, I barely gave Mira a nod. The door closed and she stood there in the nude, her dark tits poking black nipples at me and her patch of pubes was like a triangle above her cunt.

Preemptively she handed me a beer as well. In a way, the twins were our mother figures.

Cracking it open, I drank down half of my breakfast before nodding back behind me.

“Who's the kid?”

She drank a sip with her full lips and shrugged. “Some punk Tia and I ran into.”

“So why is he here?” I asked.

“Do you care?”

Of course I did not, so I dropped it. “Where's Davo?”

She shrugged again before taking a sip. Sometimes, I didn't think she even knew where she was.

Turning around, I started for the living room as Mira called out to me. “Want a blowjob?”

Always with the fucking blowjob. Seriously, if ever the twins decided to shave their heads, the only other way to tell them apart was by shit like that. We could be having a serious debate about our impact on society, and Mira would be the one offering to take two cocks in the ass. This one time, Coco and Davo were in the basement trying to pull the limbs off some guy, and Mira comes down and says, kid you not, “I need to swallow someone's load.” That's Mira for you.

As I passed the stairway, I could here the muffled screams upstairs. I ignored the kid on the couch as I went around and started down the basement.

“Davo.” I called out before descending all the way. The light was faint, the area lit only by candles set along the shelving of the foundation. In one corner, what was left of three bodies lay in a pile. On the right there was a sleeping bag covered in dust. Over in one of the corners, I found Davo.

He was standing there with his back to me, looking down at something I couldn't really distinguish. In his hand he held a hacksaw, in the other some long object. There was the distinct smell of copper in the air. When I joined his side, I found a brunette woman curled up on the concrete floor, her eyes rolled back in her skull. She was stripped down to nothing, her pussy hidden between the thighs, breasts sloping down. There was a bald spot on her head, the flesh bruised and raw. She lay in a dark pool of blood and where her arms should have been, the shoulder bones stuck out in jagged protrusions. The bitch was dead.

In his hand was one of her arms. I'm still not sure of what happened to the other.

“Beautiful, isn't she?” Davo said.

I stared at the dead broad a moment before asking. “Wanna go hit up a beer store?”

Davo didn't even acknowledge me. His jeans were splattered with blood, his bare chest coated in crimson. “She screamed until they came off.” He said. “Crying for help.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I replied . “Look, do you want to go out?”

He looked over at me, frowning as if just realizing I was there. He gets this look in his eyes that seem so distant whenever he kills someone. It's as if he holds inside the passion of an artist, only his canvas is that of gore.

Despite that deep stare, though, he drops the arm right there, followed by the saw and smiles.

“Stay in with me.” He says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small baggy of white pills.

I'm not big on E. I mean, I've done it before but I tend not to go crazy over the drug. By that time, though, I knew it was useless to try and deter him. My options were simple; go off alone or hang out with Davo. Tossing the emptied can of beer aside, I took the bag and grabbed myself a pill.

In that next hour, Davo and I stayed down in the basement, the candles sputtering in the wax. We each took at the girl, moving her body around on the floor, twisting it over and such. Most of the time, Davo had her lying back, holding her ass off the ground with his hands and kneeling between her thighs. His dick would be pumping in a pussy so cold and dry the lips stuck to his shaft like raw meat. I had her head turned, sitting on my ankles while I manipulated her mouth around my own hardened cock.

The drug seduced us, though, heating the cool and molding basement with our sweat and grunts. The chemical high surged through us, twirling around Davo and I. The moment was tangled in chaos, our bodies completely bare as each of us filled some hole on the bitch. Her armless torso scraped against the floor, coating it in blood, smearing it around as I fucked her in the resisting ass. Davo held her up, cradling the head and fucking her mouth in sharp jerks.

We laughed, looking across each other on occasion, just the two of us. Best friends since high school. Buzzing through time and space on a toxic freeway. And when Davo flipped the corpse on her knees and crouched over her, cock pumping in her shaved pussy, I came in behind him. Caught in the flow of sexual pleasure with some help from the E, I bent over Davo and pushed my dick into his ass. We fucked together, a necrophiliac threesome, taking turns with every hole. He entered me, and I rubbed myself between her tits. I stroked his length as he fucked the wounds of her shoulder. And in a final climatic release, I sucked his cock and swallowed the load while pulling my own out onto the cunt's lifeless face.

It was not the first time Davo and I had sex. Really, there's a fine line in our deranged reality and being concerned about homosexuality seems stupid when one considers what else goes on in the household. Fuck, our whole group was a graphic perversion of straight, bi and gay combinations. Me and Davo fucking each other was as common place as the twins eating each other out, or Coco forcing his dick into a little girl. We lived undefined and we carried no labels to show for it.

Or so it was before. And, well...

We lay there on the cement, our bodies together, with only a corpse between us, and I spoke moments before I considered my words. Words that had never been whispered in this basement, this house before. Words that gave structure to the very core of our ghostly and hellish existence.

Words that move faster with the mouth than the brain.

“I love you.”

I always have. Ever since we ran away together, I've loved Davo. He was my friend, my brother and my lover. We had gone so long as partners that my love grew each day. So often a time came when I thought to myself that we were meant to be, during the good times, and the worse. Our first murder, our first rape. The jealous stab whenever he fucked a live girl. The hateful rage whenever he fucked a man. I had grown to feel for him the only sense of feeling I had ever had.

And in the basement that day, I told him all of that.

Davo sat up, looking down on me and I could still taste him in my mouth. He was frowning, a far off look in his eyes when he asked.

“What?”

I hesitated only a moment. “I love you.”

Without a word, Davo rose. I lay there watching as he pulled his pants back on. He paused briefly to glance back at me before walking away towards the stairs.

I wished then that I hadn't told him. I wished at that moment that I had kept my mouth shut and chose to just live with it for the rest of eternity. Rubbing my eyes with a sigh, I pulled myself to my feet and started after him.

“Davo!” I called out , taking the steps by two. I opened the back door and looked out but he was nowhere to be seen. Filling with a sense of urgency, I hurried towards the front door.

On the couch, Mira was bent completely over the boy. She had lowered his pants down off his small dick and was sucking at it, her pussy crushing his mouth. The kid looked pale and sick, clumsily moving his tongue between her dark pink lips, a sheen of ill sweat on his head.

“Did Davo leave?” I asked quickly, technically to her asshole.

At that moment, the boy threw up a mass of yellow spit onto her cunt. Mira ignored me, and the boy's sickness, continuing to suck his penis. The kid, dazed by whatever shit he had taken, resumed lapping away the puke off her snatch.

Swiftly I rounded the landing and rushed up the stairs. I found no sign of him in the bathroom, the curtains pulled away from the tub. In it lay the rotting corpse of a little girl Coco once brought home, from wherever, her mouth eaten away by flies and her teeth missing.

I hurried into the mattress room, barging in. Coco was standing on the seat of the electric chair, his cock out as he forced the blond from earlier to suck it. She was complying out of sheer momentum, her eyes wavering weakly from loss of blood. Her legs were missing from the knees, the caps ending in neatly sliced rawness.

Coco didn't stop as he glanced over at me in annoyance but I was unconcerned with him.

“Did Davo come in?”

He shook his head, gritting his teeth before pulling the girl down hard around himself. Closing the door, I scurried down the stairs and burst out onto the porch. In my haste, I almost smashed into Tia.

“Whoa,” she slurred, “what's the rush, Skiv?”

She was wearing some denim skirt, and her tits were hanging out over a black bra. In her hand was a bottle of whiskey, the contents almost gone. I think she had been heading towards the house.

Grabbing Tia by the shoulders, I pulled her attention. “Have you seen Davo?”

She looked down at my hanging member and chuckled stupidly. “You're naked.”

“Have you seen Davo?” I shouted, rattling her.

She scowled, trying to focus on me. “He went down the street running.” She said. “Is something wrong?”

Ignoring the question, I ran towards the gate and swung it open. Fully nude, I went onto the street and spun around, looking down every direction. The night was cool, the stars above only hints hiding behind the clouds. The street lamps flickered tiredly.

There was no sight of Davo, not a hint or shadow. Only the air whispered, the sounds of the city so distant it could have been a dream. I had nothing at that moment, bare and exposed, and I could still smell the sweat of his flesh.

Hopelessly, I cried out.

“Davo!”

I was lying on the ground in our backyard when I awoke. The sun was just beginning to rise over the buildings, and distant birds called out. The dirt clung to my naked body as I groggily sat up and looked around. Tia was just outside of our back door, squatting naked, a stream of urine falling from her pussy.

Disoriented, I rose to my feet and headed for the house, stumbling with every few steps. I ignored her as I entered our home.

In the small hallway passing the stairs, Mira was dragging the boy by the feet towards me, her bare ass flexing with each pull. I left the door open for her before climbing down the stairs into the basement.

The candles had burned out. The dismembered girl lay in a thickening pool of blood. Dejected, I hobbled over to the sleeping bag and sat down on it.

That's when I final began to sob. Things had been just fine until the night before. We were messed up and going to Hell but fucked if we weren't doing it together. Davo was gone and I had no clue what became of him or how he felt about it. At that moment it was like years of murders and violence and all the shit we've done came crashing down on me. I finally felt truly alone.

When I heard the footsteps on the stairs, I assumed it to be Tia or Coco.

“Hey.”

I looked up to find Davo standing on the last step.

“Hey.” I replied.

Carefully I rose, staring back at him. He was a silhouette in the dark and I could not clearly see his face. Wiping tears off my cheek, I held still, watching him. Waiting. In our manner, people die with so little a chance. In a blink a life is silenced.

He stepped down and walked over towards me, a shadow among shadows, moving in still frame jerks. When he grabbed me and his lips crushed against mine, the world fell silent and I felt weightless.

Sighing, I surrendered with him into oblivion.

Now we are a something, though what that something might be is beyond me. On the usual occasions we do a something together. We found a rifle a few days later and spent an afternoon shooting at a new man we had tied to the tree in the yard. We raped a woman outside on the street in front of our house and kissed deeply as her screams filled the air.

Coco doesn't seem to care too much about what we do. He's been occupied with collecting body parts off women. Tia and Mira don't seem to approve of us, though. They might be worried that our love will bring something else into the household, something foreign and dangerous that none of us are prepared to deal with.

I don't see what could really happen. We have each other, Davo and I, and we've been so for a month. If we brought anything to this house of ours, it's a love that's more real than the blood, sex and drugs we live in each day. What we brought can't be any more hazardous than the guts lying on the kitchen floor or the puke stains on the couch. What we have now is something real and tangible in a house of madness.

The only sense in the world I know is Davo.

This is us now. This is our home.

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Any comment or feedback is welcome.