Mister Mysterious

R-Robin…” I looked over at the dainty girl that had fallen asleep on my couch. I spoke softly, as if I were to be too loud, she may crumble between my fingers.

"Yes?” she answered groggily, standing up off of the couch. “What is it Andy?” I looked at her. I looked at her and saw how her long dark hair fell over her shoulders. I saw her soft supple lips move slowly as she spoke. I saw pure perfection in every subtle move she made.

I have wanted to ask her on a nice date for a long time. For four years I have stumbled and fumbled over my words and my sanity. She had fallen asleep on my couch after a friendly night of video games. Soon, she will fall asleep in my bed after a moonlit walk and a romantic evening.

“I wanted to ask if...“ I couldn’t put my words together. I just kept stumbling and fumbling like I always do and-

“Yes. I’ll go on a date with you,” Robin finished my sentence before the syllables hit my tongue.

“How did you-”

“It was obvious we have liked each other for a while. I've heard yourself talking to your reflection in the mirror and trying to work up the courage to ask me out. I have seen the way your face turns crimson when our hands touch. I’m sure you have noticed how nervous I tend to get around you. I have felt the same way you do for a long time and knew this day would come. So, yes. Yes I would love to go on a date with you.” Robin smiled as she filled out every piece of our unsolvable puzzle. She has always been that way. Robin has always been so clever and creative. She was confident and always says what's on her mind.

Robin wrapped her arms around my waist and looks up at me with a Cheshire smile. “How about a movie and then dinner tonight? Maybe a drink at a bar. Whatever you want." I put a gentle hand on her cheek as I asked her what she wanted for our night of romance. I couldn’t contain the smile that took over my face after she kissed my cheek and told me it didn’t matter…

as long as she had me…

*Morgue’s POV*

Mister M. walked through the door twenty minutes late and wearing the same clothes as yesterday. This has been happening for almost ten months now. He has been coming in late, trying more dangerous stunts, not talking to me, Evan, or even the rest of the group. He has been making us call him by his stage name, he took up smoking, and has acting more distant. He used to be full of vibrant life and dreamed about love and amazing opportunities he might have. Now he is a dark and negative performer whose soul is visibly breaking. He always comes to Evan and I when he is having trouble. I vividly remember when he was going through a hard time about finding a boyfriend. He kept trying and trying, yet never found anyone. Is that why he is so upset? I can’t tell anymore. It's like he is a different person. I smell the alcohol on his breath and I see the distant look in his eyes. Something has been going on and I need to get to the bottom of it.

“Hey bud! Late again I see. Come on, I cleaned your sword for you.” I smiled to Mister M. as I guided him to the back room where we all practiced. We had three shows this afternoon and two more tonight. I don’t want to overwork him if he has been ill. I may have been smiling but I was extremely worried.

“Morgue. I need to talk to you for a second.” Evan grabbed my arm to stop me. I watched Mister M. go behind the curtain and disappear out my sight.

“What is it Evan?” I turned over to face him. He was our Lobster Boy. He was born with Ectrodactyly. It is a rare form of a congenital disorder in which the development of the hand is disturbed. The central ray of the hand is affected and usually appears without proximal deficiencies of nerves, vessels, tendons, muscles and bones in contrast to the radial and ulnar deficiencies. The cleft hand appears as a V-shaped cleft situated in the center of the hand.

In layman's terms, he has lobster hands.

When I took Mister M. into the freak show everyone was doubtful and didn’t want him around. Everyone but Evan. Evan, Mister M, and I have been best mates ever since he came in on that rainy night. We taught him how to be a freak and he taught us how to care and understand. He always trusts us with his feelings. I just wonder why he is being so distant now...

“Do you know what is up with Lu-I mean… Mister M? The name change keeps confusing me. I wish I knew what was going on with him. Did you notice he is drinking and smoking?” I shot him a quick, ‘are you kidding me,’ look. He brought a flask with him everywhere, I would have to be blind not to notice. “I guess everyone has noticed. I’m sorry, I've just never seen him like this. I don’t know how to react.”

I patted Evan’s shoulder. “I know bud.”

I agreed with his statement. I've only seen him drunk a few times and he was the last person you would ever see with a cigarette in his mouth. Even if he was a fag... (Insert drums here) Jokes aside, He was the happiest and smartest fag I've ever known. Now, I am watching him take a sip from a flask and then light up a cigarette, letting the light drain out of him with each drag. What is this all about? What has he given up on? What’s hurting him?

*Mister M’s POV*

They are worried about me. I can see the way the others look at me as though I am a shell of my former self. With each sword I left slide down my throat, the more they stared and pondered. I was fine. Infact, I've never been better. I've finally given up on the fantasy that was a normal life. I am getting laid almost every night, I’m doing better at my job because I’m not hitting on people, and I’m focusing. Sure, I smoke. Yeah, I drink a lot. But those are small prices to pay for a good life.

I rehearsed with the gang until show time. They kept asking me if I was okay, and if I didn’t want to do the shows today. Why couldn’t they just understand that people change. I’m not the same innocent kid that first walked through those doors. I’m better for who I am… at least that's what I keep telling myself.

Maybe they were right… Maybe I wasn’t okay at all?

No. Stop that.

This is who you were meant to be. Stop doubting yourself!

I battled on and off with the voices in my mind. I guess I have finally gone mad, haven’t I? Well, I have no more time to think about it. I’m on in one minute. I grabbed my swords and headed towards the stage. I could already hear the frightened yet excited roars of the crowd. It must have been a full house. I haven’t heard this big of a crowd in a long time. I stepped onto the stage with Grim and grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze as the curtains drew back. I smiled a big smile as grim let go of my hand and picked up a sword.

Show time.

*Grim’s POV*

I quickly pulled the needle out of my arm as Mister Mysterious coughed up the woman in the front row’s car keys. The audience was filled with horrified parents covering their children’s eyes, teens recording on their phones, a few goth kids smiling, and that one guy in the back holding back vomit. These are the moments I live for. It was the last show of the night and I was ready to go home a curl up with a nice book. I’m sure the rest of the gang want to go home too. It’s been a long day full of worry and hard work.

The only thing that wasn’t normal or enjoyable about tonight was the fact that I knew Mister M was going to the bar. Again. I don’t know what he does their, and sometimes I think it's better that way. I just hope he takes care of himself.

After all the people had gone, all the dust was swept, all the props were clean, and everyone was all cleaned up and ready to leave, I went out with Mister M to have a smoke. I went outside the door and leaned against the wall next to him, mimicking his pose. I pulled out my lighter, a fresh cigarette, then looked over at him.

“You did a good job tonight. For a second I thought you couldn’t cough the keys up. She had a lot of key chains.” I said to him, chuckling at the thought of something going wrong.

“Yea. That would have been bad.” Mister M replied in a grumble. He didn’t sound mad… just… distant. I've been out here five minutes now and he hasn’t looked at me once. I wish I could just get into that thick skull of his and tell him what he needed to hear.

What if he kills himself?

What if he stops paying attention during shows and gets hurt?

What if-

“I should get going.” Mister M woke me from my thoughts and put his cigarette out on his tongue… show off. A taxi was just across the street at the right time, so I guess that’s why he ran off without saying goodbye… or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. He left his car here, so I don’t know how he was going to get home. I just… I just hoped he was okay...

Just as he started running away, I saw a white piece of paper fall from his back pocket. I tried to grab his attention, but he was already far away.

“Hey! You forgot your- Ugh.” I sighed and pondered whether I should unfold the paper or not. Opening it would violate his privacy… but if it was a clue about how he is feeling… I had to take a chance.

It’s probably just a note to buy more barbed wire… but what if it's not?

What if it’s a fake prescription used to get drugs?

Or maybe it’s a list of hit men…

Maybe it’s an old picture from his past…

JUST OPEN IT GRIM!! STOP WORKING YOURSELF UP!

“Fuck….” I read the note slowly at first. Then, I kept reading it, and re-reading it..

It was his handwriting…

Who did he.. I shook my head in disbelief. I’m sure he had an explanation. I just needed to talk to him.

Notes

Morgue’s Outfit

Sorry for all the POV switching... *=*

Thank you. and you're welcome

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