Blessed Virgin of the Circus- 6.

Mara moaned deeply, as the oozing apertures suddenly took on a searing pain. Suddenly she felt as if she were on fire, and her body was pouring sweat. She was making a sincere effort not to cry out and wake the entire camp. She ended up attracting Mala’s attention.

“It’s the cunt. Ugh, what is your problem? What’s happening?”

Mara suddenly could not speak. But that same iron taste welled up in the back of her throat.

Mala shrieked. A cry to wake the dead, to shake the earth, to rattle everything breakable in camp. Mara heard glass shattering, but beyond that, nothing. An eerie lack of commotion.

The blood bubbled up Mara’s esophagus, gushing forth in a blinding wave.

**

Mara woke up in the fetal position in front of the statue. The drip from the statue’s hands was slight today, like a leaky roof after a light rain. Little Nick wandered in.

“Are you ok? I thought I heard a scary noise.”

“Yeah. I think I’m ok.” Mara recalled nothing.

“Are you haunted by somebody? You know, when somebody who died comes back? Like if you forget to get rid of their things?”

“I…I don’t think so. I think I fell asleep when I was praying again. Probably.”

He placed his tiny hand on her forehead as he’d seen his mother do, since she was crouched on the ground. “Are you sick?”

“I don’t think so, Alex,” she said, softspoken.

Alex removed his hand from her forehead. Curious, he sniffed it.

“You smell like perfume,” he smiled, gently. “Like when mommy gets dressed up after working.”

Mara glanced down at her hands. Two teardrop-shaped scars graced the insides where she could see. Her hands throbbed with numbness. Maybe it was just another high from the sideshow pain.