All eyes were trained on young Helen, her weak and stumbling frame desperately flailing to keep upright in front of the entire auditorium. Of course, juggling flaming candy apples on a unicycle is never easy, and even less so when you're missing your shins. Still, she persevered.
The single black tire crept dangerously close to the stage edge. Rivulets of sweat soaked Helen's entire body and she was as tense as a drumhead. With the utmost focus, she kept the unicycle motionless, balanced between the pressure of her shinless legs.
Helen gasped. A piece of flame spiralled away from her orbiting candy apples and landed on her wrist. She winced, soundlessly, and rolled off the stage onto a euphonium player. He was unhurt; Helen was unconscious, and bleeding, and partially ablaze.
Helen cried when the doctors told her she would never juggle again; she had lost her forearms. Mother held her close on the hospital bed and felt her eyes water too. Helen's father just stared at the unicycle leaning against the wall in the corner.
"Whose is that?" he asked. But nobody answered.
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