PLL: Chapter 1

TITLE: PRETTY LITTLE LIAR: BLINGBURG'S TRAVELING CIRCUS

the field of wagons, India.

A dark haired woman sat on the step of a very old and derelict wagon, the blowing of wind was kicking up sand but she didn't care as long as she got her smoke in. She hated the dull lull of quietness that fell over the camp when the circus she worked for stopped, Blingburg's Traveling Circus run by Victor Blingburg, a something something generational head of the family circus, Ringmaster Blingburg as he preferred to be called.

Monster: "-long grunt-"

The grunt coming from inside the old wagon loomed something big, it clung to the darkness itself. The wind around it died. The laughter of children often turned into cries within its presence. Whatever moved from inside put a fair lean on her wagon.

P.F.: ”Yeah, I see him. Easy on the shocks in there handsome or we'll break down and be stuck here longer…”

The thing grunted once more then it was back to the eerie howling of the wind. The Ringmaster came bobbing up to the temporary camp, he was a man plagued with a terrible neck hump from bad posture, a painted face, long blonde locks that were currently bundled together hanging down his back, and a yellow toothy grin.

Ringmaster: ”Whats up ya little fuckin weirdo?”

The young woman puffed on a cigarette and waved. She didn't smile at him. She was secretly glad he was staying as far away as he was, those teeth carried a terrible stench and usually had something stuck between them.

Ringmaster: ”Where is the big ugly guy at?”

P.F.: ”Around…so keep your hands to yourself Blingburg…he's always around when I need him…”

Ringmaster chuckled, pulling a red apple from his purple patched vest, shifty fearful eyes literally rolled in the clown's head as he nervously looked around for the literal monster he was asking about.

Ringmaster: ”Hehe hehe..I would never do that Doctor Frankenstein, plus I got some bitches waiting on me back at my wagon and you're too weird bitch, even for me.”

Frankenstein: ”What lucky females, I'm sure the caste system is serving some higher purpose here…what can I do for you?”

The leader clown took a bite from his apple and of course talked as he chewed.

Ringmaster: ”Yeeeaaah, so we're rolling out of this bitch inna’bout an hour…but I got wind of something’ I think is right up your with your viiiibe, maybe a bone to throw at your Monster?”

From his other vest pocket he produced a worn pamphlet, in fact it looked years and years old. What the young Frankenstein didn't know is that this little piece of paper was intentionally left to be found by Blingburg, and that the cash price listed was some magical manipulation on behalf of Blingburg. Without that knowledge Frankenstein snatched the piece of document as she stood up and tossed the cigarette that caught in the wind and blaster Blingburg in the face.He cried out but Frankenstein was hyper focused on the cash prize.

Frankenstein: ”A quarter million dollars! Holy shit balls that's lots of one dollars…is this real clown? This looks ancient!”

As Frankenstein shouted at Ringmaster she had knocked his apple from his hand, grabbed the collar of his jersey, yanking him up close. The wagon shifted and a low rumbling growl escaped from within. Ringmaster held his hands up.

Ringmaster: ”Hey…hey…hey…easy ya little freak, you know the Ringmaster is the Father of time…look…”

He chuckled and pointed at the places where Frankenstein was touching, she saw old woman hands and arms aging rapidly, so she shoved Ringmaster back where her arms began to return to normal. The Ringmaster giggled as he adjusted his vest.

Ringmaster: ”It's an effect of my other worldy powers Frankenstein, you and that SAMSQUANCH!! ain't the only fuckers with some supernatural genitalia…”

Frankenstein produced another cigarette and it just began to burn on its own.

Frankenstein: ”Why us?”

Ringmaster: ”I've seen you in those fighting pits Frankenstein, and Monster well I don't think you got any problems out in the real world if someone gets fresh…you…you've made me loads of income kid….represent the circus and it's freaks for me, that's all I ask from ya stanky weird dead raising ass…ooorrrr don't…come with us, keep earning some chump change…ain't no foreskin off my dick bitch.”

Ringmaster then bows, grabbing his apple and biting back into it but it withered with rapid age, even the pieces in his mouth. Never dying and death was Blingburg's curse. He walked away disappointed, fading in the wall of sand haze on the horizon. Frankenstein turned with the pamphlet lightly tapping at her chin with a corner of it, she had a little flirty smile on her face.

Frankenstein: ”Wanna hurt some folks Millard…”

She purred, heavy footsteps began to come from inside the wagon. Black almost giant boots lumbered out into the sand.

Frankenstein: ”....wanna make some monies? Make little momma happy?”

The creature stalked toward Frankenstein with heavy breathing sounds. Large arms wrap around the smaller woman easily lifting her up to his hidden face.

Monster: ”Huuuurt.”

It hurt the beastly sized man to speak, he didn't use words often but that was because he wasn't complete. Millard was just a murder hobo. He lacked a brain and personality, or portions of it. He had been rushed when he was created. Her fingers traced down his bald head staring into those dark green eyes of her old lover.

Frankenstein: ”We can get you all the parts to bring you back! Complete you for goood!”

Monster's breathing picked up, and he grunted.

Frankenstein: ”I knew you'd be in Millard !! Let's get this wagon packed and fuck off!”

She pushed herself out of Monster's arms. Fortune was in bloom.

...meanwhile, The Pontine Marshes, Italy...

Sitting on the banks of the Pontine Marshes was an old man painting, on a plot of land that had been secretly in the Frankenstein family for as long as recorded history. The truth was it was the Frankenstein birthplace, but the history books had always said differently. It was better that way. The most current occupant was Lord Victor Frankenstein, a man looooong thought dead. A myth.

His own flesh and blood had betrayed him, left him for dead and murdered her brothers. To recover and rebuild Victor had retreated to the Pontine Marshes estate to do so. A small butler approached Victor with a crystal ball on a silver tray.

Butler: “My Lord, it was brought to my attention by one of the staff. It's the crystal ball my Lord.”

Victor didn't stop painting but he did look at the crystal ball, it glowed a bright emerald green. A smirk danced across the man's face.

Victor: ”Prepare my carriage Baysil, contact Mr. Helsing and…send for my monster.”

His attention fell back to his painting, as the symphony of revenge played in his head.