The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 23:46:53 -

The Pale Circus

The.38 Special was heavy in my hand, the metal cold enough to burn against the wet leather of my holster strap. I held it with both hands, knuckles white, the barrel trembling as the rain hammered the mud of the Oakhaven fairgrounds. Three days. Clara had been in that chair for three days, eyes open, mouth slack, a doll made of flesh and silence. I wanted to put a bullet in the thing standing...

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