The Pale Circus
You are seven. You are small. The stone is cold. It bites through your thin woolen tunic. You are in the cellar. You are not alone. Your brother, Thomas, is there too. He is bigger. He holds the candle. The flame dances. It flickers like a trapped bird. The shadows stretch. They touch the walls. They touch your face. You feel watched. You are never watched. The air is thick. It smells of damp...
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