Star of the Freak Show

Star of the Freak Show

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WpMetadataNoticeTerakhir diterbitkan Jum, Sep 4, 2015
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There was a loud 'bang' from the police officer's pistol, and the right side of my head exploded in pure agony. I howled as I saw the officer who shot the pistol saunter closer; as if to check his handy work at ruining the only thing that made me money besides my voice and body. My beautiful, porcelain face was now soaked with blood and shards of bone fragments. I shrieked in rage, but the pain of my wound was too excruciating for me to do much more. I crumpled to the ground and cried for help, but every passerby was deaf to my pleas, except for one. He called himself Joker, and he offered me a place to stay until my wound healed. He had a shock of brilliant orange hair, a skeletal hand, and amethyst eyes. He also said that if I had any rare or unusual talents, he would find a place for me in his traveling circus troupe, the Noah's Ark Circus.
Hak Cipta Terpelihara
Jom sertai komuniti bercerita terbesarDapatkan rekomendasi cerita yang diperibadikan, simpan cerita kegemaran anda ke dalam Pustaka anda, serta beri komen dan undi untuk mengembangkan komuniti anda.
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&quot;Hold me close, don't let go, watch me burn...In this Hospital for Souls.&quot; &quot;...the one thing that is absolutely awful about being a reaper is the eyesight problems that come with it, he has decided. Even now, in the sunlight (the accursed sunlight, almost burning through his excuse for a skin), holding the stupid list two inches from his damn face, he is still having difficulty reading the names. &quot;Jarrod Fineman,&quot; he murmurs aloud, still squinting at the paper. &quot;Aged twenty five. Died on the 12th of March, 1894; cause of death... butter knife to the heart.&quot; His nose wrinkles as he connects the dots; the butter knife with the butler, the butler with the demon, the demon with the earl. It was evident - a business deal gone wrong, which had resulted in Jarrod's rather ignorant move to attempt to shoot Ciel Phantomive. The demon had moved without hesitation; the reaper had watched as he tore the man's throat open, while at the same time skewering him in the chest. Phantomhive looked on, completely unfazed, as the crimson blood pooled on the floor of the magnificent palace that he liked to call a mansion. Afterwards, he cleared his throat, and said to the butler: 'Clean it up. I have other business to attend to.&quot; Sebastian Michaelis had bowed dutifully at the waist, his demeanor totally serious. &quot;Yes, my Lord.&quot; He had watched as Michaelis so very carefully mopped the floor, almost as if he were in cheerful ignorance about the corpse in front of him. He could not have known about the reaper in the room with him already, with his own strict expression, his wicked scythe in the form of a heavy axe. Watching him, ever moment that had unfolded, whilst judging the dead man secretly. He had already sent him to Hell...&quot;

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