Chapter 1: The Last Performance
In the heart of Portland, 1927, the Roseway Freakshow was a marvel of the macabre and the miraculous. Its roots ran deep in the soil of the city, just a stone’s throw from the bustling streets near Union Station, where trains came and went along the riverbanks of the Willamette. Its performers, each extraordinary in their own right, were more than just curiosities—they were a family.
The ringleader, a striking woman named Evelyn Rose, commanded the stage with an almost magical charisma. Her voice could both lull and thrill, and under her direction, the Roseway Freakshow became an experience unlike any other. But one cold autumn night, as the leaves danced and crunched on the streets of Portland, a tragedy unfolded that would leave the city in mourning and the Roseway Cemetery forever marked by its somber presence.
It began as an ordinary evening. The sideshow had set up their tent in the bustling heart of the city. The crowd was large and eager, and the performers were in high spirits. Karl, the Giant of Germania, with his towering presence, gave a commanding nod to Cordelia Courtaude. Cordelia, a diminutive woman standing only three feet tall. Her presence on stage was commanding despite her small stature, and her role in the show had always fascinated the audience, who couldn’t help but marvel at her distinct appearance.
Jonty Johnson, with muscles like steel cables, flexed as he prepared for his strongman act. The Demonicas, bound together but inseparable in their mesmerizing act, smiled serenely as they prepared for their performance. The Porcelain Woman, ethereal and enigmatic, waited for her turn, her skin shimmering like marble under the lantern light. The Loomara Sisters, concealed in a specially made cage, were quietly preparing to surprise the audience with their terrifyingly graceful ballet. Trevor Smythe, the Blockhead, was setting up his implements with meticulous care, while Billy, the sideshow geek, readied his grotesque collection of edible curiosities. Bernard Adams, with a fiery gleam in his eyes, prepared his torches for the fire-eating act.
In the background, Abel, a laborer employed by the freakshow, moved silently through the tent, making final adjustments. His responsibilities—setting up tents, maintaining the equipment, and ensuring everything ran smoothly—were vital to the show’s success, though his presence was easily overlooked by those focused on the spectacle. Abel rarely spoke, content to let his actions do the talking.
But later that night, an unforeseen disaster loomed.
A rare electrical storm surged over Portland, its lightning crackling with unusual intensity. The sideshow tent, old and weather-beaten, stood vulnerable against the darkening sky. The storm had been forecasted, but the severity had been underestimated. The performers, ever in tune with their audience, noticed nothing amiss until it was too late. The storm’s fury turned violent, and a sudden bolt of lightning struck the tent’s metal frame.
The shockwave reverberated through the structure, causing the tent to buckle and collapse. The performers, caught off guard, were thrown into chaos. The fire eater’s flames ignited stray sparks from the damaged wiring, and soon, the entire tent was engulfed in a blinding, searing inferno.
Evelyn Rose, with her fierce determination, tried to lead her performers to safety, but the blaze was relentless. Karl, towering and strong, attempted to lift the debris, but the heat and collapsing structure overwhelmed him.
Cordelia Courtaude, despite her small size, was caught in the panic of the crowd. In the confusion, she was trampled by the terrified masses, unable to escape the frenzied rush of people. The Demonicas, ever-connected, were separated by the thick smoke and chaos. It was the first time in their lives that the sisters couldn’t see one another. The Porcelain Woman's ethereal beauty was consumed by the flames, while the Loomara Sisters, terrified and unable to escape, were lost amidst the inferno.
Trevor Smythe, known for his physical resilience, found his invulnerability futile against the searing heat. Spike, the Blockhead, who routinely evaded death from nails driven an inch from his brain, was unable to escape the crushing weight of the collapsing tent. Billy, the sideshow geek, and Bernard Adams, the fire eater, both met their fates in the horrifying blaze.
Abel, always dedicated to the show, attempted to hold back part of the collapsing tent, trying to clear a path for others to escape. But the fire overtook him. His quiet dedication, so often overlooked, perished with him in the flames.
The blaze lasted for hours, and by the time the firefighters arrived, there was little left but smoldering ruins.
The Roseway Freakshow had been obliterated, and its entire cast had perished.
The Roseway Cemetery, a small, quiet resting place in Northeast Portland, became the final sanctuary for the performers. Each grave was marked with a simple, somber stone—a testament to the once-vibrant lives that had been cut short. The city mourned, and the tales of the Roseway Freakshow became both legend and lament. The once-great sideshow was remembered not only for its remarkable performers but for the tragedy that sealed its legacy.
The oddities booth, once a marvel of curiosities, was closed, and the remnants of the show were packed away. The only thing left was the ghost of their performances, whispered through the leaves of the Roseway Cemetery, where the extraordinary and the tragic rested side by side.