American Circus: A Journal of Creative Nonfiction


EXT. FIELD - DAY
The TWO TEENAGERS head quickly through an empty field, dragging SUITCASES behind them. Ahead stands an abandoned BARN. Entering the barn, they take a moment to adjust to the dark, and then they see a MAN standing there in front of them.
The man has a double barrel SHOTGUN trained on the two boys. He’s ancient, maybe 80 years old, with a chest-length beard the color of grey ash.
MAN
Those ain’t yours.
The boys' hands go for their belts. The man blows away one of the teenagers, careening his body like a rag doll thrown across the barn.
The other boy yanks a PISTOL free from his belt. He looses a shot at the old man but misses wide. The man turns and fires.
The boy drops to the cow filth strewn across the barn floor, his Colt scattering in the straw. The man lowers his shotgun.
He grimaces as he picks up the suitcases. The boy sputters blood, flecking his cheeks, chin, neck. The old man hears this and stops, looking back at the boy in pity.
MAN (CONT’D)
Thieves die this way, boy.
He nods, as if to convince himself. The old man lugs the suitcases from the barn. Dust plumes up and spins into a sallow haze as he walks away.
EXT. TRAIN STATION - DAY
A bustling train station, brimming with activity. Good ol’ boys in their brown suspenders and bleached white shirts carry trunks to the smoking train. Their wives in lily patterned dresses drag wailing children behind them as they head off to the big city.
INT. TRAIN COMPARTMENT - DAY
The old man slides the suitcases into an overhead compartment. He takes the shotgun from his jacket and sets it beside him. He covers it with the jacket.
He opens the blinds. He watches THREE POLICE OFFICERS flirt with a BLONDE dabbing sweat from her chest with a handkerchief.
The door opens behind him. A MARRIED COUPLE walks in. The woman’s pregnant stomach stretches against the fabric of her dress. She’s a beauty. He smiles at them and they smile and they take their seats.
EXT. TRAIN STATION - DAY
A figure swallowed in a long tan overcoat limps toward the train. He leaves a trail of dark blood in his wake.
INT. TRAIN COMPARTMENT - DAY
The old man shakes his head, takes another glance at the officers, then shuts the blinds and sits. He closes his eyes. The horn bellows and the train lurches forward.
The door CREAKS open and shuts. The old man remains in repose.
VOICE (O.S.)
Excuse me, miss...sir.
The man opens his eyes. He takes a sharp inhale as he stares at...
THE BOY from the barn. He keeps one arm tucked inside his coat, clutching his stomach, a gnarled mess of dried blood and still-seeping humor. His face is creased into a grimace.
MAN
Now listen, boy...
BOY
Don’t you fucking call me that.
The man looks to the couple. They are far enough away that they don’t seem to hear the boy’s curse.
MAN
Mind your diction, son. There ain’t no cause for profanity here.
The boy pulls his COLT from his jacket, keeping it hidden from the couple.
MAN (CONT’D) (whispering)
You going to shoot me here, boy?
The boy grits his teeth and pulls back the hammer.
MAN (CONT’D)
Son, I live by a code. Every man’s got to. I don’t hurt the innocent. That’s my first. My second is no deed goes unpunished.
BOY
My brother... my ma, my pa... we let you in, we fed you...
MAN
Your family done brought this upon themselves. Your Pa told me he never dug up what I buried on that property. Your Pa lied. That don’t make him innocent, does it? Rest of them... hell if they weren’t complicit. They stared me right in the face and lied. You too, boy.
The COLT goes off! The woman SCREAMS.
The old man catches the bullet in his shoulder. He careens back into the seat. The HUSBAND leaps to his feet, grabbing for the gun. The boy tries to hold on but the pistol goes off, shooting the husband dead.
The woman keeps screaming. The old man reaches up to the compartment, clenching the shotgun in his fists and whipping to train it on the boy. He pulls the trigger.
The boy slumps to the floor. The old man lowers his shotgun. The blood pooling on the ground rocks back and forth with the shudder of the train. The woman has gone silent. Her dress begins to stain.
The old man holds out a trembling hand to touch the woman’s belly. He can’t bear it. He pulls away as if bitten. The man sits down and stares out the window.
MAN (CONT’D)
Oh, hell.
He takes the shotgun and shoves it beneath his chin.
EXT. TRAIN - DAY
The train stretches into the country side. There is a flash of light from a window and the lightning crack of a gunshot. Then, just the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks again and again.
 
Matthew Ross Fennell