Creative Writing #2

    The familiar smell of hairspray and old perfume filled the room. I sat down in front of an old mirror, it was cracked, and the paint was chipping of the frame. The dim yellow lighting was the only thing lighting the room. The table in front of me was covered with various types of makeup. Being backstage, hearing the people waiting outside of the curtains, anticipation and excitement in their voices before the lights dimmed and the voices faded was something I'd never get tired of. This was my job, one of my many jobs, but by far my favourite. I was part of the circus. I could juggle really well, and it`s something I loved to do. It's something that most people wouldn't brag about, but I never questioned my decision.

Although it was difficult having to move around all the time, I had no reason to stay. It was just me and my sister April, anyways. We never had any parents that would support us, so I was pretty much the only parent-figure April had. I just turned 20, but I had managed to take care of April and myself somehow, since I was 15. April's only 9, so she can't take care of herself yet. We found a house that would let us live there, if we payed rent. It was only one room we shared, but it was better then nothing. I still remember the day that my parents left, we never had much money, and one day they couldn't support us any longer, so they left.
"Elizabeth, take care of April."
That's all my mom said before she left, and I did.

I acquired many jobs, like working at a restraunt, a gas station, and even at the circus to support my sister and I. The reason I decided to in the first place, was when I was little I went to the circus once, before my sister was born. I thought it looked amazing, with the colourful tents, and the circus music, and I thought it was amazing that there was a job where you could be grown up, but still dress-up and have fun.

I looked back at myself in the mirror, I was so used to putting on my makeup for the act, by now it was second nature. I often wondered how I could manage to support April and I. I wasn't brave, or courageous.

Looking back at me in the mirror I saw a young girl, she was thin, and small, only 5'6''. She had long, dark brown hair, and light blue eyes, just like her dad's. She had pale skin, and weary eyes, covered up behind all the makeup, like a mask. She wore her usually sparkly, gold costume.

The voices hushed, and the announcers voice rang through the crowd. Someone whispered at me to take my place.
"Elizabeth Andrews, enter stage left."`
The lights dimmed, the crowed grew quiet, I held my head high, and I walked on stage.