Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
I listen, the cadence of his words calming the turmoil inside me. For a while, I forget about my problems, lost in the stories he weaves. But as we get closer to the circus, the reality of my situation seeps back in.
“I had a fight with my roommate before work,” I admit, the words heavy. “And the diner… the diner was hell today. Everything just feels like it’s falling apart.”
Marcus glances at me, his eyes soft with understanding. “Sometimes life feels that way,” he says. “Like the whole world is conspiring against you.”
“Exactly.” I exhale, the weight of my confession lifting slightly. “And then there’s this other thing… I’m an empath. I feel everything. Everyone’s emotions. It’s… so overwhelming on the best days and unbearable on the worst ones.”
His steps falter for a moment, and he looks at me with new intensity. “An empath? That’s a rare gift.”
“Gift?” I scoff, the bitterness returning. “It feels more like a curse.”
Marcus stops walking, turning to face me. “It’s a powerful thing, feeling what others feel. But it’s also a heavy burden. You’re not alone in this, Clara. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”
His words touch something deep inside me, a place I’ve kept hidden for so long. I meet his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a flicker of hope.
We reach the edge of the circus grounds, the vibrant tents and performers creating a surreal, dreamlike landscape. It’s a world apart from the lonely road we just left. Marcus leads me through the bustling grounds, past performers practicing their acts and the colorful tents filled with laughter and magic.
We find a quiet corner near Marcus’s caravan, away from the prying eyes of other circus members. The atmosphere is a blend of enchantment and secrecy, the air thick with unspoken promises.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice soft. “For everything.”
Marcus smiles, a slow, seductive curve of his lips. “The night is still young, Clara. Let’s see where it takes us.” He nudges at my shoulder with a charming smile. “I have to perform soon, you should stay and watch.”
“I’d love to,” I say without a second thought.
The air around the circus is electric, buzzing with a symphony of emotions that crash into me like waves. I struggle to control my empathic abilities, the intensity of the performers' and audience's feelings nearly overwhelming. Joy, excitement, anticipation—they all blend together, a whirlwind that leaves me dizzy and breathless.
Marcus heads in the direction of the main tent as I navigate through the vibrant chaos, my senses in overdrive. The lights are too bright, the sounds too loud, the emotions too raw. But amidst the sensory overload, one feeling stands out—a magnetic pull towards Marcus whenever he’s nearby. I can’t explain it, but his presence anchors me, a beacon in the storm.
I spot him near the center ring, preparing for his performance. Even from a distance, Marcus exudes an aura of mystery and allure that’s impossible to ignore. His dark hair falls over his forehead, and his eyes, intense and mesmerizing, seem to find me in the crowd. A shiver runs down my spine, a mix of anticipation and desire.
As he steps into the spotlight, the world around me fades. His movements are fluid, hypnotic, each gesture precise and full of purpose. The audience holds its breath, captivated by the illusionist weaving magic before their eyes. I can’t take my eyes off him, drawn in by the seductive dance of light and shadow.
He pulls a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, transforming it into a dove with a flick of his wrist. The crowd erupts in applause, but I’m fixated on him, on the way his fingers move, the intensity in his gaze. There’s something about Marcus, something deeper than the tricks and illusions. An undercurrent of pain and vulnerability that calls to me.
After the performance, Marcus finds me lingering near the edge of the tent.
“Enjoy the show?” His voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s a hint of something darker beneath the surface.
“It was incredible,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice steady. “You were incredible.”
He smiles, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that makes my heart skip a beat. “I’m glad you think so. How are you holding up? I know it can be a lot, especially for someone like you.”
I nod, unable to hide the truth. “It’s overwhelming. But I’m managing.”
“Come with me,” he says, taking my hand. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I follow him, unable to resist.
We weave through the circus grounds, the noise and chaos fading as we reach a secluded corner. His caravan is a haven, filled with the scent of incense and the soft glow of lanterns. It’s intimate, personal, a stark contrast to the public spectacle of the circus.