The Dark Circus

The lights flashed and the music blared. Strobe lights flickered and cast shadows to stretch tall and thin against the dark grass. The hands of the shadows tried to snatch at wandering ankles, attempting to drag the walker inside the large tent, looming over passers by. The flags waved, beckoning travellers inside, waiting for the evil grins, plastered on the faces of clowns to dissolve into focus. The eyes glared and the paint ran smoothy down their faces, mingling the the sweat from their brows. These jokers were in no way humorous, but the grim subjects of children's nightmares. The tight-ropes swayed and the ground shook. Elephants feet pounded against the floor causing the ropes' bindings to creak and groan as though longing to be freed. The smell caught tight in the throat, as stale popcorn and old hot dogs wafted in the air. Their scents milling in the enclosed space as workers and visitors crushed them beneath their feet. The stands rose high in the air, ready to be packed with those foolish watchers. Their sticky seats ready to trap whomever wished to sit on them. This was no place for a free man.