Art, in general, is how we commune with the universe. But I
feel that music is one of the few truly universal things. I've never in my life
met someone that doesn't like at least some music. It's something that everyone
responds to, at one point or another, even if we can't explain it.
The circus is no different. Whenever we hear 'Thunder and Blazes,' we think of the circus, because it's
become synonymous with circuses and carnivals. Every circus act comes with
music because, used correctly, it enhances the feelings an act intends to
create.
With music as such an integral part of a circus, I had to
ensure it was there. But not just music, since Zirkua Fantastic is not just a
circus. While any great music is enthralling, I wanted this to be more. It had
to be enchanting. The music of Zirkua, along with everything else, had to have
just a touch of magic to it. To me, violins and fiddles are rife with power, if
only because of the skill required to play them. To me, being ensorcelled by a
violin isn't a great jump from reality. So Zirkua's acts are all performed to
violin and fiddle music.
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Excerpt:
As the caravan rambled down the
interstate, Tobias rolled onto his side. The prop wagon wasn't the most
comfortable. He'd have to opt out of practice to sleep once they got the tent
up. No hope for that here.
He tossed aside the air silk he'd
been using as a blanket and sat up, looking around, listening to the truck's
tires thud across potholes and cracked pavement. He checked the straps holding
the crates, tightened one that had loosened on the drive. "Crap." If
one came loose, others could, too. He pushed himself off his stack of crates
and toppled when they hit a particularly nasty bump. "When was the last
time they fixed up this road?" He dragged himself up and stumbled toward
the rear door of the truck, cranking straps tighter as he went. Once he got
used to the movement, he sped up, tightening down all the cargo in fifteen or
twenty minutes. Only the first strap had come loose.
Wood scraped against wood. His
heart beat faster, breath catching. He scanned through the truck. Nothing had
moved, to his eye. "Just another bump." Palm pressed to his chest, he
tried to force his heartbeat back down to something normal. "Nothing to
worry about."
He sat back on his crates and
wrapped himself in the air silk. Sleeping or not, he needed a barrier against
the cold and, though he would never admit it, it left him feeling safer, more
protected against whatever probably wasn't in the truck with him. He scanned
the boxes a final time, just in case he had missed something.
Still nothing out of place. Not
that Tobias could see much in the dark. He tossed the silk over his head and
lay down on the crates, desperate for some semblance of sleep. He sucked in a
deep breath. The silk smelled like tobacco.
He heard some kind of rustling
and flipped the silk back over his head. Cerulean eyes filled his gaze. The
familiar, heady scent rushed into his nostrils. "Marley."
"You sound surprised."
"A little." Marley
lifted the silk and climbed in next to Toby, snuggling up so close his scent
filled the cocoon. Nice to have you here. "I mean, this is an
artist's wagon. It's not really the sort of thing you do."
He chuckled, hot breath cascading
over Toby's back. "That's not quite true." He kissed Toby's neck,
sending a chill racing along the corded muscles. "I end up in the prop
wagon most nights."
"Do you?" He did his
best to sound unfazed. In reality, he fought back warm, nervous
laughter. "I'd think I would have noticed."
"Well, you did this
time."
"So I did." Toby
scooted closer, relishing in Marley's warmth. "And I'm very happy
about it." He leaned his head against Marley's chest. The slight movement
of the fabric wafted more of the intoxicating perfume into the space. "How
much longer 'til we get to the next town, you think?"
"I'd give it an hour. Maybe
a little more. If I'm any good at guessing distance." Marley pulled Tobias
even closer. "You need to get some sleep, babe."
"Not if it's only an
hour." He turned over and nuzzled into Marley's shirt, staring up into
bright blue eyes. "I'd still be completely useless with only an hour's
sleep." He yawned, and then slapped Marley across the arm. "Stop
being so damn warm." The end of the sentence got muddled by a second,
gaping yawn. "It's like sleeping with a space heater."
"You can't blame me for
being hot. In fact, I remember you thanking me profusely on more than
one occasion for it."
"Well, it's not very helpful
when I'm trying to stay awake."
Marley chuckled. "Then get
off."
He nestled closer in response,
muttering into Marley's chest. "It's not that unbearable."
Marley wriggled his hand under Toby's chin, lifted his face,
kissed him. "I figured that much."
