Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Your Past Times Consisted Of The Strange, The Twisted, And Deranged
Your Past Times Consisted Of The Strange, The Twisted, And Deranged
3 reviewsBy Mo and Natalie. Welcome to the circus.
1Exciting
Petes POV:
I took a good hard look at what I had, a circus inherited from my father, which he had received from his father, and so on and so forth. A classic circus tent of large proportions, and a filled audience. It's not everyday that the circus comes into town. My star had been performing, the start of it all.
She wasn't the biggest attraction, to say the least. But she was my baby. When first forming my circus, I had found her on the street, dying. She was about two years of age, so I took her in thinking I could train her to do something, and we soon discovered that she was a contortionist. Paige, is what we determined her name was. And she's been supporting my career as a ring leader ever since. Now, she was 19, and help me managed the circus. She kept everyone in line and did her job. It was less for me to take care of.
Paiges POV:
I was in a small box by this time, the air filled with gasps and laughter. I smirked a bit and let myself out, bowed, and left the center of the tent. I ventured my way backstage to socialize with the other performers. Our ring leader Pete had introduced the final act of the night, Monica - The fire breather, eater, and dancer. The small girl rushed her way out of the dressing room with torches and matches in her arms, her lips were blistered and bruised. Burns ran up and down her body, yet, she looked complete. I had never acquainted myself with her, thus I never knew anything about her. I did know that she only got half of her scars from the inside of this tent, though.
The room reeked of sweat and peanuts, a scent that I'd always known. A scent I would never escape. I plopped myself on the dirty ground and made small talk with all of the other 'circus freaks,' passing time, waiting for Pete to come in with dinner.
Minutes passed in silence, and smoke filled the room. This alarmed several new kids, and they rushed and peeked through the door to see if Monica had set the tent on fire, but they missed the memo that everyone smokes at the end of the show. The audience had been emptied and our ring leader busted in with a countless amount of pizza boxes.
"Eat." He bluntly stated, and we did.
"Whats the plan for tomorrow?" I snuck up behind Pete, but he just kept watching his employees, which were more like slaves.
"I'm going into the city, recruiting some more."
"It's not like you don't have enough members."
"Get to bed." He said softly. I didn't try to argue with him, when Pete says something, you do it. He gets what he wants, he gets the last word. This was Pete's world, and we were just all living in it, which was a very stupid move for most people, here. I walked out of the tent and across the venue a bit to our train. I crawled into my bunk, I was one of the only one's to get a bed. Only Pete's favorites slept in peace, but I didn't complain.
Monica's POV:
I awoke on a cold train floor next to the others. My body ached, my throat burned, my hands were blistered. I looked and felt like hell. The vibrating floor irritated my scars so I tip toed around the sleeping bodies around the car and crossed onto another one. I went passed all of the sleeping cars and went into a storage car and sat on the folded bleachers. It hadn't always been like this. Working for a monster like Pete Wentz was worse than living in an orphanage as a child, worse than abusive foster homes, worse than sleeping in an alley. I was a prisoner here, being held back by an irrational fear of the Ring Leader. He gave me life, he could take it away just as easily, or at least that's what he says.
"Sister Mary-Katherine?" I ask for attention during meal time, a risky action.
"Yes, Molly?"
"Well, first, I'm Monica. Secondly, can someone adopt me next?"
"That isn't up to me." She said, sternly.
"I'll make it happen." I mumbled. I gave my bowl to her, and fled to the bedroom for girls ages 5 to 7. I had found a package of matches in the playground a few weeks beforehand and kept it under my pillow. When everyone fell asleep, I snuck into the basement and determined which monstrous and strange mass of iron was the furnace. I grabbed a larger sized rock on the cobble stone floor that was slicing my bare feet, and threw it at what I decided was the source of heat. There opened a small hole in the metal, and I quickly lit a match, slid it in, and ran out of the building. I escaped with a single burn on my wrist.
I snapped my eyes open, keeping myself from trying to drift to sleep. We would be in who-knows-where in a few hours.
Orphanage set fire: 100 Dead Children, 500 needing homes was what all the papers said. That's how I got my first home, at the Henderson's. They were a perfect couple, a Barbie and Ken fantasy. Holly and Mark Henderson had it made, all accept for a little girl. Mark was a pharmacist, Holly a kindergarten teacher. Holly watched the news and just had to have one. I was the lucky pick. Of course, they didn't want me anymore after I set their garage on fire from smoking pot when I was 11.
This happened for the next 7 years, but in worse scenarios. When I turned 18, I was an adult and on my own. I no longer belonged to the government. I crawled my way to a dark alley every night and did what I can. I played with fire on the streets, and got cash in a hat. It covered the expense of living. Then, Pete found me.
"Oh, sweet heart. Where have you been living?" He asked me, grabbing a lock of my tattered red hair, examining me.
"...In an alley way." I said, stepping away from the stranger.
"Hey, sweetie, I know a place wher-"
"I've heard that offer before, I'd rather not."
"Oh, but this isn't prostitution, I'm not here to use you like the other guys. I have everything you could ever want, food, a place to sleep, clothes, showers, friends. It's great."
I looked at my dirty clothes, and smelled the air around me. I reeked of sweat and smoke.
"Deal." He took my wrist and guided me to a cab, "Just so you know, Monica, once you come with me, you can't leave."
I didn't tell him my name, "That's okay."
The train came to a halt, and my small body rolled off of the bleachers and to the hard floor. More bruises. My red hair was plastered on my face with a coat of sweat, I brushed my bangs out of my face with heavy breaths. Nightmares. Pete's voice came on a loud speaker that roared through the train.
"Get up. We have guests."
Everyone rushed out of the train, and we were in a green field. We circled around Pete, he had two girls next to him.
"Everyone, this is Brooke," He gestured to his right, a tall slender girl with light hair. "And Natalie," this time, he put his hand on the shoulder of a shorter tan girl, with dark hair. "They'll be staying with us."
The crowd scattered around the field, and Pete whispered something to them and took them into the train. I walked a few yards and sat on the ground, pulling a pipe and lighter out of my pocket.
I took a good hard look at what I had, a circus inherited from my father, which he had received from his father, and so on and so forth. A classic circus tent of large proportions, and a filled audience. It's not everyday that the circus comes into town. My star had been performing, the start of it all.
She wasn't the biggest attraction, to say the least. But she was my baby. When first forming my circus, I had found her on the street, dying. She was about two years of age, so I took her in thinking I could train her to do something, and we soon discovered that she was a contortionist. Paige, is what we determined her name was. And she's been supporting my career as a ring leader ever since. Now, she was 19, and help me managed the circus. She kept everyone in line and did her job. It was less for me to take care of.
Paiges POV:
I was in a small box by this time, the air filled with gasps and laughter. I smirked a bit and let myself out, bowed, and left the center of the tent. I ventured my way backstage to socialize with the other performers. Our ring leader Pete had introduced the final act of the night, Monica - The fire breather, eater, and dancer. The small girl rushed her way out of the dressing room with torches and matches in her arms, her lips were blistered and bruised. Burns ran up and down her body, yet, she looked complete. I had never acquainted myself with her, thus I never knew anything about her. I did know that she only got half of her scars from the inside of this tent, though.
The room reeked of sweat and peanuts, a scent that I'd always known. A scent I would never escape. I plopped myself on the dirty ground and made small talk with all of the other 'circus freaks,' passing time, waiting for Pete to come in with dinner.
Minutes passed in silence, and smoke filled the room. This alarmed several new kids, and they rushed and peeked through the door to see if Monica had set the tent on fire, but they missed the memo that everyone smokes at the end of the show. The audience had been emptied and our ring leader busted in with a countless amount of pizza boxes.
"Eat." He bluntly stated, and we did.
"Whats the plan for tomorrow?" I snuck up behind Pete, but he just kept watching his employees, which were more like slaves.
"I'm going into the city, recruiting some more."
"It's not like you don't have enough members."
"Get to bed." He said softly. I didn't try to argue with him, when Pete says something, you do it. He gets what he wants, he gets the last word. This was Pete's world, and we were just all living in it, which was a very stupid move for most people, here. I walked out of the tent and across the venue a bit to our train. I crawled into my bunk, I was one of the only one's to get a bed. Only Pete's favorites slept in peace, but I didn't complain.
Monica's POV:
I awoke on a cold train floor next to the others. My body ached, my throat burned, my hands were blistered. I looked and felt like hell. The vibrating floor irritated my scars so I tip toed around the sleeping bodies around the car and crossed onto another one. I went passed all of the sleeping cars and went into a storage car and sat on the folded bleachers. It hadn't always been like this. Working for a monster like Pete Wentz was worse than living in an orphanage as a child, worse than abusive foster homes, worse than sleeping in an alley. I was a prisoner here, being held back by an irrational fear of the Ring Leader. He gave me life, he could take it away just as easily, or at least that's what he says.
"Sister Mary-Katherine?" I ask for attention during meal time, a risky action.
"Yes, Molly?"
"Well, first, I'm Monica. Secondly, can someone adopt me next?"
"That isn't up to me." She said, sternly.
"I'll make it happen." I mumbled. I gave my bowl to her, and fled to the bedroom for girls ages 5 to 7. I had found a package of matches in the playground a few weeks beforehand and kept it under my pillow. When everyone fell asleep, I snuck into the basement and determined which monstrous and strange mass of iron was the furnace. I grabbed a larger sized rock on the cobble stone floor that was slicing my bare feet, and threw it at what I decided was the source of heat. There opened a small hole in the metal, and I quickly lit a match, slid it in, and ran out of the building. I escaped with a single burn on my wrist.
I snapped my eyes open, keeping myself from trying to drift to sleep. We would be in who-knows-where in a few hours.
Orphanage set fire: 100 Dead Children, 500 needing homes was what all the papers said. That's how I got my first home, at the Henderson's. They were a perfect couple, a Barbie and Ken fantasy. Holly and Mark Henderson had it made, all accept for a little girl. Mark was a pharmacist, Holly a kindergarten teacher. Holly watched the news and just had to have one. I was the lucky pick. Of course, they didn't want me anymore after I set their garage on fire from smoking pot when I was 11.
This happened for the next 7 years, but in worse scenarios. When I turned 18, I was an adult and on my own. I no longer belonged to the government. I crawled my way to a dark alley every night and did what I can. I played with fire on the streets, and got cash in a hat. It covered the expense of living. Then, Pete found me.
"Oh, sweet heart. Where have you been living?" He asked me, grabbing a lock of my tattered red hair, examining me.
"...In an alley way." I said, stepping away from the stranger.
"Hey, sweetie, I know a place wher-"
"I've heard that offer before, I'd rather not."
"Oh, but this isn't prostitution, I'm not here to use you like the other guys. I have everything you could ever want, food, a place to sleep, clothes, showers, friends. It's great."
I looked at my dirty clothes, and smelled the air around me. I reeked of sweat and smoke.
"Deal." He took my wrist and guided me to a cab, "Just so you know, Monica, once you come with me, you can't leave."
I didn't tell him my name, "That's okay."
The train came to a halt, and my small body rolled off of the bleachers and to the hard floor. More bruises. My red hair was plastered on my face with a coat of sweat, I brushed my bangs out of my face with heavy breaths. Nightmares. Pete's voice came on a loud speaker that roared through the train.
"Get up. We have guests."
Everyone rushed out of the train, and we were in a green field. We circled around Pete, he had two girls next to him.
"Everyone, this is Brooke," He gestured to his right, a tall slender girl with light hair. "And Natalie," this time, he put his hand on the shoulder of a shorter tan girl, with dark hair. "They'll be staying with us."
The crowd scattered around the field, and Pete whispered something to them and took them into the train. I walked a few yards and sat on the ground, pulling a pipe and lighter out of my pocket.
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