The Pale Circus

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 08:46:11 -

The Pale Circus

The fog rolled in thick. It smelled of coal dust and wet wool. I stood on the platform. My boots were mud-caked. The train was late. It was always late. I checked my watch. The hands trembled. Not from the cold. From the fear. I was here to find him. Or what was left of him. I stepped into the carriage. It was empty. The seats were velvet. Red velvet. It looked like dried blood. The air inside...

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