Grand Finale

                Diego, the little circus boy, sat down, looking at the shark tank’s bottom only 20 feet away from the surface. He was trying to find a reflection in the churning water. The crowds were cheering and the bright hot spotlights were on him. He felt like he was about to fall apart there on the diving board and all that was holding him together were the bright red and gold leotards his father the great Master of the Roaming Circus gave him. This was to be his first attempt at the jump for his life. A Hundred and Twenty One Foot and Four Inch drop into a shark tank. He barely remembered what it was he was supposed to do once he was in.

                “Diego! You shithead! JUMP!!! “hissed the his brother from behind him. “Fall down you fucker!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!”  laughed the gang of teenagers from the west side of the audience. “DIOS MIO!!! Don’t do it!!!” cried a group of nuns from the east side of the audience.  Diego could hear all of this but his mind was somewhere else. He was looking for his father. He could not breathe. His head lolled up and down and his body was growing limp. Forgetting everything he was taught would prove to be deadly. He knew that. Take away the circus from the equation and he was just a boy bobbing over a hundred feet over some sharks. Father would have been greatly disappointed had he been there. Father was a grand person. The most famous man in a hundred cities. What was he?

                He let go.

                The wind was a welcome relief from the heat of the audience and the spotlights. Everything was a blur. Everything was quiet. Everything was lost. Time did not slow or even change at all. He was perfectly aware. They were gone... All the cheers. His brother’s command. The teenagers. The nuns. The Roaming Circus and A Hundred and Twenty One Foot and Four Inch drop. Finally, also his father. Silenced as he hit the bottom of the tank and looked up to the lights to see the sharks swimming over him. Silken-skinned angels with spotlights for halos.