The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 21:37:14 -

The Pale Circus

The rain had stopped, but the air still tasted of wet wool and old pennies. Silas stood at the edge of the porch, his boots heavy with the mud of the road. He had walked for three days. His knees ached. His back was a knot of iron. He looked back down the lane. No one was following. No one was coming. He turned his face to the house. The windows were dark. The door was shut. He raised his hand...

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