Disclaimer: All characters in this story belong to Cirque du Soleil.

My name is of no importance, it is my story that holds the truth of the White Singer because her story is my story, merely a few pages ahead.

I am the Black Singer; nothing more than a collection of her darkest thoughts and emotions. We are not sisters, we are not equals, and we are not friends. We are merely two creatures bound together forever in an unbreakable bond of silent exchange. I know her every thought and desire for they are mine yet still belong to her. I feel nothing more than what she refuses to ; hatred, anger, lust, jealously, she locks them all away in her heart and so they're forced into mine. All her subjects think her so pure and so beautiful but could they only see what I see and hear what I hear of her thoughts; they would know how wretched and horrid she truly was. It builds inside her, the greed, the disgust I can feel it and only when she can stand it no longer, will she push her thoughts, her hate to me and I, like a sponge must absorb it all.

I have no free will.

Not the way she does.

I follow her because my feet have no choice in a different path, I mirror her movements because my body has no will of its own. I speak nothing more than words she's already spoken in secret, I feel nothing more than emotions she's already felt except, once I feel them, they stay and bubble within my own heart, darkening my soul. They tug at my features, scarring and wrinkling my face a little more and more each day. She makes me ugly, she makes me hate and oh, do I hate. But there's one thing she can't take from me, one thing she can't control;


I am in love with my dear, sweet night and the beauty it brings to her sun-drenched world. It blankets what was once bright in a brilliant velvet veil, smooth and cool. I love the stars, the way they dance and twirl under an azure moon, there's nothing like it. As I can never sing of daylight and all its garish attributes, she can never sing of the night and all its secret glory. I like it this way; it gives me a tiny inch of myself that she cannot probe and use as her own personal storage.

I used to be naïve enough to believe that I could oppose her if I willed it hard enough but I know better now, I know that no matter how much I object or try to insist that we're separate individuals, I know it's pointless.

She is the one whom is adored, loved for everything she is and I am the one hated for everything I'm not.

The White Singer is a beautiful façade.

I'm merely an echo of beauty.

A/N: Okay, so this story was written after a whole marthon of Cirque performances. Something about the White and Black Singers facinates me, I just think they're so interesting. I, for a while believed the two of them to be sisters until I went onto the Cirque's website and looked at her character profile. It states, flat out that the Black Singer is the alter ego of the White Singer and that she's "hiding many secrets in her dark heart" so I decided to write about some of them, I think I've found a new obsession. Review, please! :]