He’d come from the jungles of India. No, dragged from his home. They brought him to the unfamiliar city of New York City. He was to be the newest sideshow attraction on Coney Island. He qualified because of his deformities: his feral lifestyle and most prominently, the stripes that decorated his body. With a name, he was to be known as “The Tiger Man of India”.
When he was first publicized, the onlookers gasped of astonishment and sneered of disgust. This would aggravate Tiger Man, and to limit his threat, the owners had to put him in a cage. Tiger Man always looked for a way out, but no matter how hard he tried, he would always spring back into the center. Many people took amusement at this and ridiculed him. After a few weeks, he’d grown used to this and had nothing left to do but remain vulnerable.
Once in a while, there were other freaks that were nice to him and even taught him to speak. The only two words he’d ever spoken were “I speak”. They would usually bring him treats after hours, but as always, they were gone too soon. Whenever he started to make a friend, they were taken away from him. He’d also come to understand others, but he could only speak those two words.
There was not one night when he didn’t dream about his habitat in the wildness of India. The tigers would each give him a rub good-night and settle in the cave until early dawn. He, on the other hand, chose to sleep outdoors. He never understood why; maybe it was the moon or the stars themselves. Maybe it was the chirping of insects, the howling of the wolves, or perhaps it was the lush green environment that offered sanctuary and freedom from the outside world. Now, he was in this cage; trapped, alone, and without a friend in the world. Until one night…