The Pale Circus

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2026-08-18 18:18:34 -

The Pale Circus

The dream began with a moth. It beat against the glass. *Thump. Thump.* A gray blur. A frantic, silent scream. Margaret Holloway watched it. She did not sleep. She only watched. The wing was torn. A ragged edge. Frayed like old lace. She reached out. Her fingers brushed the pane. Cold. So cold. It bit her skin. The moth stopped. It hung there. Dead? No. Just waiting. The room was dark. Only the...

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