In a small village home to around a hundred families, people bustled about with smiles on their faces. It felt like they could finally rest, having worked so hard all year. Children danced happily, bright smiles flashing across their faces. As the sun set, shops began to close much earlier than usual. Inside their homes, people changed into new—better—clothes, as though it were a festive season.
In a place as remote as this, people made a living either by farming or by selling everyday goods. Although the income was modest, it was enough to meet everyone's needs.
Once a year, a circus tent was set up to entertain the villagers. Though it could not compare to the grand circuses held in cities, it was the only form of entertainment they had. Since the circus took place right after the harvest season, people saw it as a chance to relax after a year of hard work.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, doors swung open, and villagers slowly made their way toward a massive tent, its size rivalling that of five houses combined. The circus tent, striped in bold red and shimmering sun-gold, shimmered in the fading light. Outside, ropes and stakes held the canvas taut, while the smell of straw and sawdust mingled in the air. Inside, narrow corridors led to numerous rooms where performers hurriedly practised acrobatics, polished props, and adjusted elaborate costumes, each preparing for the grand spectacle that was about to unfold.
In one of the rooms, a man sat in his chair, staring at himself in the mirror. Then, suddenly, a grin spread across his face. His brows shot up as high as they could go, his smile stretched so wide it almost felt uncomfortable, and his eyes watered as he stubbornly refused to blink. He held the ridiculous, over-the-top expression for a few long moments, as if challenging the reflection to match him, before finally letting his face relax with a small, satisfied sigh.
"'All the hard work is paying off, I see,' he murmured, slowly rising to wash his face and ready himself for his turn backstage. Just as he leaned over the basin, a sharp series of knocks echoed on the door, making him pause and wonder who could be there."
"Hey Kadian, come quick! It's your turn next!" Alfred, his close friend and partner, shouted, urging him to hurry as time was slipping away. Kadian sprang into action, smearing on his makeup and sliding into his clown costume—bold blue and red stripes adorned every inch, and tiny tinkling bells jingled with every movement, making him feel both ridiculous and ready all at once.
Confident that he would do great this year, Kadian stepped out of his room. Each step left behind a soft, jingling echo from the bells on his costume. Soon, he reached backstage. With a proud, determined look, he strode onto the main stage as the announcer called his name. A blinding flash of light hit him, forcing him to squint. Though he had practised countless times under the stage lights, today they seemed unusually bright, almost dazzling.
As he reached the center of the vast stage, Kadian paused and turned to face the audience. Wearing the same exaggerated, almost comical smile as before, he began to dance, his movements exaggerated and full of flair, while lively music blasted from the speakers, filling the hall with energy and excitement.
Just a few meters away, Alfred rolled a huge ball toward Kadian. Quick to react, Kadian leapt into the air and landed gracefully atop it, wobbling slightly before finding his balance. He flashed another bright, exaggerated smile, and, catching the cue, Alfred began tossing bowling pins toward him—one by one, each flying through the air with perfect timing.
With years of honed skill, Kadian caught each bowling pin effortlessly, juggling them all at once. The crowd erupted into cheers, thrilled by a performance they saw only once a year. Backstage, the other performers shouted their encouragement, watching in awe as Kadian moved with a mastery that seemed unmatched, every gesture precise and full of flair.
All his life, Kadian—an orphan—had devoted himself entirely to the circus, considering it his only family. As he performed, his eyes suddenly caught a young girl in the audience, barely in her teens, who had stopped laughing. Her stillness stood out amidst the cheering crowd, and it drew his attention immediately.
The girl froze, every movement halted, her gaze locked on him. Her face was utterly void of expression—no hint of laughter, no trace of joy—just a blank, pale slate staring straight at Kadian. Her eyes felt hollow, lifeless, as if all warmth had been drained from them. Over the years, Kadian had seen his share of strange sights and terrifying accidents, but something about this girl's stare sent a chill deep into his bones, rooting him to the spot in silent dread.
"Damn… is my skill really waning? I'm only twenty… maybe even younger."
As he tried to make sense of the girl's strange state, his eyes were drawn to another figure. A man, likely in his late forties, clad in a brown trench coat and a worn red hat, had also frozen mid-action. His gaze locked onto Kadian, eyes utterly lifeless and void of any emotion, mirroring the same soulless stare that had unsettled the girl.
The strange sight had forced Kadian to question his own thoughts, a creeping unease settling over him. Just as his concern threatened to deepen, Alfred shot him a quick glance, silently signaling it was time for the next part of their act.
"What is going on? Why does no one seem impressed today? Or am I just imagining things?"
As Kadian moved into the next part of the performance, the unsettling pattern grew. One by one, people froze, their actions ceasing, their eyes locked on him. The once lively crowd—cheering, clapping, and buzzing with excitement—had fallen into an eerie silence, their gazes fixed and unblinking, following his every move.
Visibly unnerved, Kadian froze mid-performance, his heart hammering in his chest. He turned to Alfred—but the friend he had trusted now wore the same soulless stare. And then his gaze drifted to the backstage. From the shadows, dozens of eyes emerged—peeking from the gaps between curtains, from cracks in the walls, from behind props. Only their eyes were visible, wide and unblinking, black and hollow, each pair locked directly on him. The rest of their faces were hidden, swallowed by darkness, leaving only those haunting, lifeless orbs. They didn't blink. They didn't water. They simply watched, endless and patient, as if waiting for him to break.
A cold dread slithered through Kadian's veins. The cheering crowd, the lively circus, everything around him felt unreal, as if he had been thrust into a silent, cruel nightmare. Every muscle in his body screamed to move, to run—but he was frozen, trapped beneath a gaze that was alive yet utterly dead. The oppressive silence pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, as though the very air had turned against him.
Kadian felt as if he were the only living soul in the entire circus. The stillness of the crowd, the lifeless eyes of the performers peeking from backstage, and the hollow emptiness in Alfred's stare combined into a gut-wrenching sense of wrongness. A chill ran down his spine, twisting deep in his chest, leaving him paralyzed with a fear that clawed at the very core of his being.
As Kadian struggled to process the nightmare unfolding around him, the people—silent, soulless, unblinking—began moving. Step by slow, deliberate step, they advanced toward him, methodical and unyielding. In moments, they had formed a tight circle, surrounding him on all sides.
Kadian's body betrayed him. Movements that were once effortless became rigid, strained, each step feeling like dragging lead. His mind faltered, thoughts scattering like fragile shards. Even the simplest, most basic notions demanded a herculean effort to grasp. Panic clawed at him from the inside, threatening to swallow him whole as the encroaching circle pressed in, patient and merciless.
"must...run.....must.......runn....."
"must......"
"I.......must......"
"..."
Soon, even the simplest thought became an unbearable strain, each notion clawing at his mind like shards of broken glass. Fear consumed his eyes, and dread slithered through him like ice in his veins. Kadian's knees buckled, giving way beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor, helpless.
Around him, the people he had once laughed with, shared meals with, lived with, now stared at him with faces as pale and blank as slate. Their eyes, empty and unblinking, seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
Then, without warning, the girl—the one who had first caught his attention—erupted in flames. Her body burned with unnatural intensity, black smoke curling from her hair, her skin blistering and peeling while her mouth stayed frozen in a silent scream. Heat licked Kadian's skin, but he could not move, could not blink. Almost simultaneously, the other performers followed, igniting in bursts of hellish fire. Flesh bubbled and shriveled, muscles shrank and contorted, but somehow they remained standing, skeletal figures with burnt chunks of flesh falling off of them, encased in fire, staring at him with molten eyes clinging to their sockets. Eyeballs had melted or dropped entirely, leaving empty hollows that still burned with a hellish, unholy glare. Charred tongues hung from mouths that never moved, and scorched clothing fused to their flesh, yet they advanced—relentless, patient, utterly alive in their death.
Then, a piercing, unbearable agony struck Kadian's mind. Knowledge, light, and pain flooded him in a torrent too vast to comprehend. Flames engulfed his body, licking and searing every inch. Skin blistered, peeled, and fell in sheets; muscles tightened and snapped; tendons shriveled. The smell of burning flesh was overpowering, filling his nostrils, sticking to his throat, making him gag even as he could not move. His screams were trapped inside him, echoing in his head, a private torture amplified by the silence of the living-dead around him.
Time stretched endlessly. Every second became a lifetime of agony. His consciousness was pinned, aware of each nerve-ending being scorched, each scream trapped behind his lips. The charred figures circled him, their molten eyes boring into his mind, and with every flicker of their flames, every hiss of burning flesh, Kadian's sanity splintered further.
And yet he could not escape. The last thread of his life unraveled slowly, painfully, as his mind and body dissolved into fire and chaos. With one final, shuddering breath, his vision went white, his senses unspooling into nothingness. All that remained were the blackened, burning eyes of those who had been his family—the circus that had raised him—still staring, still unblinking, their flames licking the air as if nothing had ended at all.