The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 18:01:43 -

The Pale Circus

The glass sphere sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold as a river stone and twice as heavy. It was a perfect orb of blown crystal, no larger than a plum, yet it contained a swirling, gray mist that seemed to move against the grain of the air. He held it up to the streetlamp, watching the fog churn, and for a moment, he saw his own face reflected in the curvature, older than he was, lined with a...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews