By Anthony N.N.E. Carvahlo

Arthur Brewer, our foreman, knew that we were all freaks. I was with his band for only three months and I fell in love with both the money and the craft. What the craft was I still don’t know for sure… I don’t even think the people who paid money to see us knew what it was. My routine changed every single time. Sometimes the scales took over my face. Sometimes the scales were loose for Arthur to sell without hurting me. But sometimes they closed around my throat and eyes, constantly in fear that I would take Sewn Eyed Ezekiel’s place as the eyeless attraction. And what would happen to him? 

Arthur showed us a love the world never gave us. Ezekiel Stone was worthy of the love his mother never gave him. We were all freaks in the freakshow, but we were fantastic. And I was Nathaniel Knight, the Crocodile Boy. 

I don’t know what was weirder: my transformation or the fact that the others made me look normal. There was Sally Bluemoore, who had a missing eye but had a tentacle instead, or Remus White, whose fur had the same color as his name implied when he transformed. I somewhat envied him, but every night I’d hear him throw up. So maybe I was lucky I wasn’t a shapeshifter like he was. 

But like everything else, they ended… it’s even worse when it’s something you can’t control, like the unwavering fist of law. Brewer was fined, and we all had to leave. Remus was shot by a hunter thinking he’d found a direwolf. As I lay here, touching my bloody stomach wound, I find myself wishing so much. 

They wanted to see if my skin was bulletproof.