The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 22:29:20 -

The Pale Circus

The tent was red. It was a deep, arterial red that seemed to pulse in the dim light of the warehouse. Dust motes danced in the shafts of moonlight cutting through the high windows. They hung like frozen time. Arthur stood by the entrance. He adjusted his tie. It was stiff. He felt the fabric bite into his neck. Inside, the smell of sawdust and old velvet hung heavy. It was the smell of things...

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