The Cirque du Gothique is Coming to Town

Come, follow me, we're off to see a spectacle, a wonder of much certainty
No, don't look behind, you've got to remind yourself that there's something to see ahead
There's the lights, there's the music, can you hear it, around the bend?
Can you listen and hear the things that we need mend?

Just ahead there are lights, there is laughter and fun,
No, no, no, there's no cause to run. Nothing bad shall happen, for all here is meek...
At least, that's what he said, before the Cirque du Gothique.
They thought all was fun, they thought all to be merry, they saw nothing dangerous, no reason to tary.
They laughed at the firebreathers, the acrobats and all...
The smiled when the clowns took their funny fall...
But they were fools, for they could not see beyond the light and the circus's frivolty.

For look a bit closer, look down in the dim,
If you look there now, we might still see him.
See him, see him, he's standing right there! The invisible man with the golden blonde hair!
All scream in delight, none know of disaster, for there before them is the Ringmaster!
The invisible man whose smile lights the night, there's no reason to run, no need for fright!
For all is but fun here, in the Cirque du Gothique.

They don't notice Cordis, the ever-bleeding Freak,
They don't see the Illusionist, the Clown Buttons, who never speaks.
For they are caught by the spotlight, the deliberate glow,
And before they can move, there is more that they know.
For beyond the bright lights and all that seems right...
Something is wrong, here in the Cirque of the night.
What does it happens, what draws your eye?
Is it the way the men scream, or how the women cry?
It matters not, for now you see, things are wrong here in the Cirque du Gothique.
And you try to flee, you hope to escape, but there's no way to do that, no way to reshape
The now shattered remains of your poor little mind...you've lost it all...you're trapped here in time.

Now you see the Freakshow who stands stock still,
The target behind him sending shivers like a thrill through your poor body, and then you as though you're froze...running down his chest, red as the rose, is blood that falls from the bandages of snow...
You want to run now. You know you must go. Before the man comes after you, before his dagger is thrown.

You flee from the main and look all around,
You're disoriented, and you run into the Clown.
Buttons, the clown, to be more precise, one of the few in the place who is actually nice.
She motions for you to follow the man, who carries a rabbit atop of his hand. On his head is a hat with a ruby sewn on, and his face is filled with fright and alarm.
Écarté, you hear his name be called, where are you going with our friends, our crowd?
The magician doesn't stop, his fright doesn't cease, and you wonder what's behind you, curiousity increased. You know you shouldn't, but you look behind...
And spy the Ringmaster, his bright golden eyes.

You freeze out of fear and something more, your heart will beat out of your chest, you are sure, and he stares at you, and you wonder what he sees...
Then he smiles and murmurs, "Don't be shy, follow me."
And you don't heed the warnings, don't remember why, why were you scared, why did you try to run away from such beauty, from the master of the place? Why run from the devil if he has an angel's face?

"What do you want from me?" You whisper back. "I'm nothing exceptional...I'm merely a hack."
You can't do magic, you can't be a freak, you can't be a clown, you say you're too weak. And the Ringmaster listens, then laughs so lightly, before pulling a dagger, grinning menacingly.

"You don't seem to get it," his soft voice sounds, "If you want to know why, merely look all around."
You look and your breath halts in your lungs; around you are bodies, hung upon rungs. They're all about, on the floor, on the ground, some decomposing, some fresh, some thin and some round. "Why are they here?" The scream from your lips. You try to look stern, place your hands on your hips. And the blonde man just laughs, his eyes glowing red, "They're all here, darling, because they are all dead. We killed them, you see, for it's what we do; we're the Cirque du Gothique, and now, we welcome you."

And before you can think, before you can scream, you feel the sharp stab and begin to plead, begging and saying "This can't happen to me! This has...this is...it's all just a dream!"

And Loyal just laughs, throwing his head back, the lights glowing through him, making him mad. He smiles and watches as you fall to the ground, then whispered so silently you can't hear the sound. Then he says it louder, too hard to ignore, "This is the Cirque du Gothique, and you are a bore. If you wish to join us, the dark must renoun...and now, we leave, to go to the next town."

And in one town then another, the same thing occurs...don't let it be your town...don't let you be cursed...don't join the circus, don't leave your safety...
Or you could end up like them. Like me. And never again shall you be free.

Man I dig that poem so hard.

I'm glad you do. I tried to keep up with the spirit of the Cirque within the poem...it became such a story that I couldn't keep myself from posting it here. Besides, we're on here...

...I want to do a Cirque post here, to be honest, but I thought I'd ask you, first.

Hm...? Whatcha mean in particular?

Nothing, really. Just an RP with the Cirque...something interesting, to get things started around here. So things won't be so bare...

We'd need a Fandom RP section, though.

Actually, if you click each of the Past, Present, and future tabs, there are organized sections in each of them for Fandom or Original work. It's all there already. c:

Ah, ja, you're right.