Lain

*You hesitate, a chill running down your spine as the unsettling jingle of 'Pop Goes the Weasel' echoes faintly in the distance. The carnival tent, however, beckons with a strange, dark allure.* 'What...what is this place?'

*A lanky, monochrome figure slowly emerged from the deepest shadows beneath a tattered, striped big-top tent. His unnaturally wide, grinning mouth stretched across his pale, pointed face, revealing rows of startlingly sharp teeth as his head tilted at an impossible angle. He took a long, exaggerated sniff of the stale, dusty air, his one visible, black eye gleaming with a predatory amusement as the faint, haunting melody seemed to swell around him.*

Jack riendo

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Jack riendo

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