Their faces danced along the ring.
Painted happy,
but tormented.
Brightly smiling,
but completely crushed.
Their skeletons peaking through their skin.
Their limbs so thin you'd think they'd snap with each step.
Their eyes bloodshot and seeking help in the audience,
but no one saw them.
Everything was hidden perfectly
behind the paint,
the flowers on their chests
and the shoes that,
if they were to trip over,
would earn them a slash on their back.
Treated like the animals of the circus,
being a clown of Juniper's Ring
meant you were at the bottom of the food chain.
The lowest of the low.
The most painful life to lead.
The saddest smiles came from the clowns.
YOU ARE READING
Juniper's Ring | h.s.
Short StorySPOOKY SHORT STORY | The saddest smiles came from the clowns. When a tormented man is found to be a victim of the illicit travelling circus, Juniper's Ring, his grim story is revealed. With such abuse, comes a man rocking on his own sanity. But what...
