Loading...
Loading...
Loading...
Loading...
Details
Chapter 1 — The Brooch Collector
She always hated circuses.
She didn't know exactly why.
Perhaps it was the exaggerated smiles.
The bright lights.
Or the feeling that something was always hidden behind the curtains.
So, when she found an unknown brooch pinned to the apron of the cafe where she worked, she didn't think much of it.
It was small.
Silver.
Tear-shaped.
And it had an inscription engraved on the back:
"Now I can find you."
A shiver ran down her spine.
She ripped off the brooch immediately.
But, looking towards the cafe door, she saw someone watching.
A tall man.
Dressed in white.
Face painted.
Golden eyes.
Pierrot.
He remained motionless for a few seconds.
Then he disappeared among the pedestrians.
As if he had never been there.
The next night, it happened again.
When she left work, she found another brooch.
This time red.
Diamond-shaped.
Pinned to her handbag strap.
On the back it read:
"The first one doesn't count. This one is special."
A laugh echoed behind her.
She turned quickly.
Sitting at the empty bus stop was a man in colorful clothes.
The smile was too wide.
His eyes sparkled with amusement.
Harlequin.
— Did you like my gift?
— Did you put this on me?
— Perhaps.
— Take it off.
— No.
He smiled even wider.
— Now you are interesting.
Before Victoria could answer, Harlequin had already disappeared.
Days later, she had five brooches.
All different.
All appearing without explanation.
None stayed away from her for long.
They always came back.
As if they were alive.
And the worst part?
Each new brooch seemed to make the circus members more present in her life.
Pierrot appeared on street corners.
Harlequin emerged in crowds.
Jester watched from windows that shouldn't exist.
The Doctor left flowers at her door.
The Ticket Seller sent letters with no sender.
It was as if they were all participating in a silent competition.
A dispute that Victoria did not understand.
Until the night she finally entered the Freak Circus.
The show was empty.
No spectators.
No applause.
Just the artists.
Waiting.
All wearing their own brooches.
And all looking at her.
The Chief appeared in the center of the stage.
— Do you know why you are here?
— No.
— Because each of them wants to mark you.
Silence fell over the hall.
Victoria felt her heart race.
— Mark?
— A brooch is a promise.
A connection.
A symbol of belonging.
He spread his arms.
— And you, my dear, are the first person in many years who has aroused interest in all of them.
Harlequin smiled.
Pierrot clenched his fists.
Jester tilted his head.
The Ticket Seller tipped his hat.
Like predators observing the same prey.
Or admirers disputing the same prize.
— So what happens now? — Victoria asked.
The Ticket Seller smiled.
A smile that didn't reach his eyes.
— Now they will try to convince you to accept their brooches.
— And if I refuse?
The stage light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
And, when it returned to normal, all the artists were one step closer.
— No one has ever refused all of us at once. — Jester said softly.
Victoria finally understood.
She was not a visitor.
She was not a guest.
She was the center of a dark game.
And each brooch received pulled her deeper and deeper into it.
You wake up in your bed, as if the trip to the circus was just a dream, but the brooches are still there.