You have been hearing murmurs that the circus was coming to town
for weeks now. The strange thing was, if you asked someone when it
would actually arrive, they didn't know. No one did. They didn't even
know which circus it was. All of this seemed a little odd to you, but
you often found yourself with very clueless friends, so you didn't
worry about it too much.
One day, you are out walking your dog around dusk
and you are stopped by a very abnormal looking man. He is wearing a flashy
suit in a pale red color, with tall collars and long tails, and on his head sits a tall
hat of the same color. His face is pointed, shiny, and each feature
seems, well, the only word you can think of is precise. His clothes
look faded and old, but not tattered. He seems as if he just walked
out of a storage closet that has preserved him in perfect condition
for a length of time you couldn't guess. He looks down at you and grins.
"I'm from the circus," he tells you in a low, melodic voice.
"What circus?"
you ask him, though he seems to have expected a different response.
"Why,
that one," he laughs, pointing. You turn to see a circus at the end of
town, nearly entirely set up. The sign reads Century Circus. "Why don't you come,
and see it for yourself?"
