One word writing prompts: SIL

Word Sixteen: Circus [rf]

Yay!

Tw:

 Second person pov:

Songs I listened to:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6SOJlkN1zU

--ш--

Standing in the dusty ruins, you can see everything.

The faded colours of the tent, the rusty dried red everywhere, the telltale black of a fire. A gold birdcage hangs in the corner, door hanging ajar. Empty mahogany stands seem to show life that only exists in your peripheral vision.

With light footsteps, you walk towards a body, right arm at an odd angle, head bent too far behind. Red stains her mouth, while black paints her clothes. Her hair is spread out under her, like it's trying to run, to escape the flames. It's a startling sight.

You reach out a hand, caressing what once was her face.

Your face.

What was that? Who was that?

It's me. Hello.

Who... are you?

You really don't... never mind.

You whirl around, trying to find the source of the voice. Who's talking to you?

Maybe it was just the wind?

But you were never scared of the wind.

You know you should leave, but something draws you here. Maybe it's the melancholy of it all, but you just can't tear your eyes away.

The strains of a keyed instrument float through the air, catching your attention.

Go.

She's back.

The piano notes are now recognisable, as Chopin's Nocturne Op.9 No.2. It's hauntingly beautiful, you think as you sway to the music.

Go!

She sounds more urgent. You relent, letting the music carry you.

A baby grand piano sits alone majestically on a rock, seeming out of place in a desolate place such as this.

So are you.

You don't know why, but you start to dance. You put your arms up into a ballet pose, and twirl. You don't stop twirling. You can't.

Stop.

Your feet start to tire. But you can't stop dancing.

Stop, now.

So do your arms. But you can't.

STOP!

The piece finishes, and so do you. Applause is heard, and you turn to the sound, seeing a young man wearing a mask.

"Who are you?"

He flourishes his cane and bows.

"You're perfect."

This is weird.

He walks up to you, and something in you tells you not to move.

He lifts your chin, and examines your face.

"Perfect. You'll make a perfect little bird."

--ш--

>:)

So it turned out more horror than gore but idc man

Music is nice LISTEN TO IT