The Pale Circus

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 20:52:48 -

The Pale Circus

The road is wet. It has been wet since the border. You walk with your cloak pulled tight, the rough wool scratching against your jaw. The town of Oakhaven lies ahead, a jagged tooth of stone and timber rising from the mist. You are small. You are twelve. You carry a satchel that weighs more than you do. Inside is a letter. Inside is a name. You do not know who the name belongs to. You only know...

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