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Description
The train roars in on crisp October wind howling from the North. It comes at three
a.m. on tracks that haven't been used in years. Overgrown with weeds, the
rusted ties crumbling to dust.

Worn tents striped gold and crimson sprout around the train. The tarps flapping like
bats come home to roost on tent poles rising like bones from the dry brown
grass.

In moments the circus lives, breathing in the hollow notes of a calliope and
exhaling the smell of popcorn and fryer grease.

A dark figure stands on top of the Ferris Wheel's looming eye and releases a
stack of leaflets. The fly, a swarm of paper insects descending from the cold
stars above the town.

The next morning finds the town blanketed in hand bills and posters. They are
pasted to walls and fences, stapled to telephone poles and tacked to the sides
of buildings as if they have had been there, rotting, for a year.

Circus Darkrai has come to town.

Description
The train roars in on crisp October wind howling from the North. It comes at three
a.m. on tracks that haven't been used in years. Overgrown with weeds, the
rusted ties crumbling to dust.

Worn tents striped gold and crimson sprout around the train. The tarps flapping like
bats come home to roost on tent poles rising like bones from the dry brown
grass.

In moments the circus lives, breathing in the hollow notes of a calliope and
exhaling the smell of popcorn and fryer grease.

A dark figure stands on top of the Ferris Wheel's looming eye and releases a
stack of leaflets. The fly, a swarm of paper insects descending from the cold
stars above the town.

The next morning finds the town blanketed in hand bills and posters. They are
pasted to walls and fences, stapled to telephone poles and tacked to the sides
of buildings as if they have had been there, rotting, for a year.

Circus Darkrai has come to town.