The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 14:11:47 -

The Pale Circus

You stand in the corridor. The air is stale. It smells of dust and old stone. We are deep beneath the earth. The walls are cold. They are made of black granite. We are not alone. The shadows move. They are not ours. I am the Warden. I hold the key. The key is iron. It is cold in my hand. It is heavy. I have held it for ten years. I do not sleep. I do not eat. I only watch. The door is before...

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