Folklore of the Night

     The four boys lay on their stomachs in the darkness, their heads peeking under the skirt of the brightly lit circus tent, somehow expecting to see the worst. But no, what they saw proved to be quite the treat. The lovely trapeze girls were walking near where the boys lay undiscovered. Ma had once said that show people, especially the women, were all frauds. They presented themselves as beautiful on the stage or screen; however, if you ever got a closer look, you would see that it was all due to heavy makeup and tight girdles. That's all it was. They were far from attractive. Ma was definitely wrong about that, at least in this particular case. Those girls were something to behold. Though Orvil hadn't yet been burdened with the curse of hormones, he could recognize true works of art.  He longed to see more of the same.      Much to the boy's disappointment, a troop of clowns emerged through a gap in a partition. Their enormous shoes made wet flopp...

       The cup sailed past Grant's head, smashing against the kitchen door. The faces of all four brothers reflected looks of horror; however, Orvil’s expression was mingled with an extra element of dread. They had been tasked with doing the dinner dishes, and relations had deteriorated, as they often did. Yet now they all shrank at the thunder of approaching feet signaled that at least one of them was about to die. Orvil knew who that would be. At this moment, he was almost resigned to his fate, and he was not quite sure why he should care.           Sure enough, Ma and Pop burst through the door, instantly scanning for injury and evidence of blood or the dismembered body of one of their four sons. Nothing. The parents moved to the next two evaluations in quick succession: what was broken and who was guilty.           The three semi-innocent brothers, Grant, Fred, and Ray , didn’t immediately kn...