The forgotten souls of a once vibrant community now haunt the forest, their clothes tattered, their spirits almost vacant, Their routines so engrained in their memories they still perform, subconsciously to an audience of trees. The big top tents taken down, rotted, decayed and lost to the mists of time….
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The Carnival Troupe.
The Clown and his Wife
The Clown and his Wife
The Clown
The clown, his real smile long gone, he cut his face to scar himself with a fake twisted grin, stapled together with rusty pins. His wig, knotted, covered in twigs and moss.
The Clown
The Ring Master and his assistant
The Ring Master, a corpse of his former self beckons the audience to enjoy a night of laughter and suspense, yet his calls are unanswered.
The Ring Master
The Ring Master and his assistant.
His assistant, the once glamorous showgirl, now dances, her clothes all but rags, her corset stitched and repaired. Her gaunt skin covered in oversaturated makeup to disguise the reality of her age.
The Ring masters assistant.
The Stilt performer and the puppet
The Stilt performer standing tall amongst the others, she beckons and bows, still demanding a presence, contorting the marionette puppet in sinister ways.
The Stilt performer and the puppet.
The Harlequin Clown
The Harlequin clown, wearing naught but a sinister mask and ragged underwear, her stockings torn. She writhes around in the grass almost serpant like.
Take a peek.
Betraying his wife, the clown gets a peek at his other lover.
The Dancer
The Dancer
The Dancer, she taunts the audience, twisting, turning, hoping for one last admirer to tell her how beautiful she is.
The Clown
Taking a bite.
True love?
Lets get on with the show.
Tell me i’m pretty?
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