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<<audio "circus" loop play>>The Circus came in town unannounced. Seemingly overnight, the outskirts of his little city were bathed in bright and colorful lights. He could smell the salty popcorn and hear its crunch from a mile away, the cotton candy flavors already melting on his tongue before he even handed the cashier the money. They called it the “Eyes of God”. The letters were painted perfectly with pristine molten gold paint on a blood red banner, with unnervingly wide eyes stuck in corners, positioned in such a way that it felt like they were looking down at him. Spying. Blinking. Whispering. <em>Strange name</em>, he thought, <em>Even stranger decorations</em>. The eyes must be fake though, right? He had heard of the Circus from a friend. This woman he’s been seeing. Pretty and generous with her money (and she had lots of it), but a little strange for his small-town tastes. She would get calls in the middle of their dates and would never tell him who they were from, but would immediately get up to leave. <em>It is an emergency of utmost importance</em>, she would say. <em>Yeah</em>, he remembered, <em>even her speech was kind of weird</em>. Too fancy and unnatural on her tongue, her dark colored lips opening and closing around words in a peculiar way, almost crushing them with her teeth, choking them between her gums. The two of them were in bed one night. Her bed. It was covered in satin sheets, soft and inviting, just like her skin. He ran his hands along her arms, her chest, her collarbones, all smooth like she had never been touched before. Her long and red nails were pulling his sandy hair towards her face, and he leaned down to kiss her. [[Next|P 2]]

Circus: Eyes of God

by Venus & Alby /*Author Name*/

Made in SugarCube 2.37.3.

character page

<<link "Character" "Character">><</link>> <<link "Codex" "Codex">><</link>> <<link "Credits" "Credits">><</link>> <<link "Back">><<if tags().includes("game-info")>><<goto $return>><<else>><<run Engine.backward()>><</if>><</link>>

<<script>> var passages = document.getElementById("passages"); passages.scrollTop = 0; <</script>>  <<if tags().includes("title")>> <<elseif tags().includes("credits")>><h1>Credits</h1> <<elseif tags().includes("character")>> <h1>Character</h1> <<elseif tags().includes("codex")>> <h1>Codex</h1> <<else>><h1>$chapter</h1> <</if>>

<<set $chapter to "Prologue">> <<cacheaudio "circus" "music/jesters-playground-creepy-circus-music.mp3">>

“Do you ever feel watched?” she whispered, right before his lips touched hers. The fuck … He raised his head and looked at her. Well, that’s one way to ruin the mood. But he was determined to not let it all go to waste. He bent his head again searching for her mouth. ”I do. I feel watched all the time. In fact …” the corner of her lips curled into a smirk, almost mocking, or secretive. He couldn't tell which. “I feel watched right about now.” Now she was making him feel paranoid, unsettled. Was this some kind of kink he didn't know about? Was she just toying with him? Was someone watching them? He got off the bed and shook his head, his eyes darting around nervously. In that moment, she thought he kind of looked like a dog trying to shake off his fur—or in this case, trying to shake off his fear. Oh, this was funny. She almost let a laugh escape her. Careful, can’t let him know what we know just yet, can we? Why was he so scared all of a sudden now, anyway? Did he not notice the eye next to the door when they entered her room together? Or the eye next to her mirror when she pushed him towards the bed? The one next to the window? Next to the bed frame? None of them? This is on him then. Too caught up in his own head and desire to notice the little things. Only this was not a little thing at all. He could’ve had everything, just like she does. She would have led him to it, if only he would have looked, if only he would have seen. She will have to turn him around and send him to the others, and she will never see him again as he is now, she’s sure. And she was starting to like him too … Too late for that. Her sharp nails stuck onto his skin like claws, almost not wanting to let go. But she did. She said her farewells and sent him home, knowing that one way or another he will end up where he was meant to be. Of course, he wasn’t privy to the woman’s private thoughts and plans. He waited for a call from her, a last sign that she might still be interested, but he never got a word back. So he just assumed that she must have changed her mind. No feelings lost there, though the Circus she told him about stuck in his mind like a thorn stuck to one’s clothes. [[Next|P 3]]

<ul> <li>Banner assets <a href="https://www.canva.com/">Canva</a></li> <li>Fonts <a href="https://fonts.google.com/">Google fonts</a></li> </ul>

Codex

ORANGE: Game info - character page, codex, credits. Populate these with what you like. GREEN: UI & game set-up elements. These can be edited to suit your needs. RED: Code. Everything in these passages should be labelled; things might break if you mess with them.

An interactive fiction game.

<style> #ui-bar {display:none;} #passages {width:100vw;margin:0;background-image:var(--banner-top),var(--banner-bottom);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-size:50%;background-position:top center, bottom center;overflow:hidden;scrollbar-width:none;font-family:var(--header-font);transition:0s;padding:0;} ::-webkit-scrollbar {width:0px;} .passage {text-align:center;transition:0s;} #passages a:before {content: none;} #story {margin-left:0;} h1 {text-align:center;margin-top:25vh;} @media screen and (max-width: 800px) {#story {margin:0;}} </style> <h1>Circus: Eyes of God</h1><h3>Written by Venus | Coded by Alby</h3> <<if Save.autosave.ok() and Save.autosave.has()>><<link "Resume Game">><<script>>Save.autosave.load()<</script>><</link>> | <</if>><<link "New Game" "P 1">><</link>> | <<link "Load Game">><<run UI.saves()>><</link>> | <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings()>><</link>>

<<link "choice text" "2">><<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><</link>> <<link "choice text" "2">><<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><</link>> <<link "choice text" "2">><<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><</link>> <<link "choice text" "2">><<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><</link>>

After paying for his fruity and sweet cotton candy, he moved along the long line of people towards the entrance. Just as he was about to step foot inside, someone cleared their throat. Yes, that is something he remembers even now. He heard the voice before he saw anything else, a voice that was raspy and foggy and bored. To his right, there was a woman sitting down at a wooden table. She was shuffling a deck of cars with one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other, and her long raven hair draped across the small of her back in waves of black. “Won’t you sit down and let me do your reading already?” she snapped. He sat down reluctantly, looking at the people in line behind him. “Do my reading? You mean, like, tarot or something?” ”Hah! Yes, sure. Like tarot or … something.” The woman smirked at him, urging him with her hands to settle down. She unnerved him, and she knew it. “What is your name, child?” the woman asked, deep green eyes searching his soul. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I already knew your fate long before you even stepped foot in here, long before you were even born.” He looked around nervously, the other people in line each caught up in their own conversations and excitement of the Circus. He thought the woman must be reciting her speech off a script, telling everyone that sits at her table the same thing. There’s no way she would guess his future, or whatever tarot readers do. Even so, he wasn’t going to tell her his name. The woman shuffled her deck, still looking into his eyes as if she was truly searching for something. A card flew out of her hands on its own and settled face-down right in the middle of the table, in front of him. Her eyebrows shot up, her forehead skin wrinkling slightly. ”Hm, interesting. This doesn’t happen very often. You should count yourself special.” She flipped the card and laid it on the flat of the wood. The image was a sure give-away, but the bold letters under it made the message all the more clearer—an enormous ship with its sails ripped apart, losing its way in the foggy wind on the stormy sea. Death. [[Next|P 4]]

He wiped his hands on his pants. When did they become so sweaty? The woman looked at him again, almost with pity in her eyes. “I knew it.” “Knew what?” He pointed at the card between them. “Death? What does that mean? I’m not sick or anything.” “Usually, it can mean rebirth. It can mean change. It can mean something beautiful.” The woman sighed. “But for you? It means exactly what it says.” “You’re lying.” ”And why would I?” she asked, leaning forward. “You can call me a liar all you want, child. But that does not change what I know and what I see. I know how you came here, and I know how you’ll leave. That pretty girlfriend of yours had really high hopes for you, you know that?” ”She’s not my girl—“ he stopped himself, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. She couldn’t have possibly known about her. He has not seen this woman ever in his life before, how could she know of the girl he’s been seeing? It’s not like the “Death” card on the table whispered it to her. This was all getting too weird. Too much, too soon, and he hasn’t even stepped inside the Circus yet. He got up quickly, his knees meeting the wooden table with a <em>thud</em>. The tarot card assigned to him fell down, but the woman deftly caught it inside her deck right before it hit the ground. He walked towards the entrance of the Circus without saying anything else, almost toppling over the chair he sat on in his haste. Right before he walked through the red and white curtains of the tent, he risked one look back at the woman. She was already looking at him. Behind her was a sign he had not noticed before. It was so dark, almost hidden next to the bright lights and signs of the Circus next to it. The sign spelled <em>Melissandre</em>—the woman’s name. He finally turned his head and followed the crowd in front of him inside the tent, feeling Melissandre’s green eyes on his back. [[Next|P 5]]

He couldn’t believe his eyes. The Circus was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Vibrant colors of yellow and blue and green were jumping off of translucent soap bubbles and animal-shaped balloons that were floating above his head. The air was filled with the intoxicating smell of dark chocolate and raspberries from a counter filled with sweets to his right. There, a porcelain doll seemed to be serving all kinds of ice creams, chocolates, and doughnuts to the hungry mouths of the guests. Her movements were stiff and sharp, and every time her hands would touch he would hear a faint <em>clunk</em>, as if she was truly made of porcelain. To his left, there was a lively bar with a clown as a bartender. The drinks the clown was serving were ones he had never seen before—bubbly and frizzy, still and thick in their shapely glasses, smoky, pink, red, black, smelling of gasoline, roses, and drugs. He was no stranger to drinks himself, that was what would practically get him through the usual weekend, but he was sure these were beyond anything he had tasted. I’ll let you in on a secret. The clown serving drinks at the bar? He was supposed to find him grotesque. All of them were. The clown was tall and dangly, his belly the only shape his clothes could fall onto. A face with fat baby cheeks and the gleam of a child in the clown’s eyes, but they had a deeply exaggerated downturned shape, and the rest of his features were gaunt and saggy. Not even the poorly-done paint job on his face could cover the clown’s hideousness, or the extra teeth poking out of the clown’s veiny mouth. And yet, none of them noticed a thing. They all smiled at the clown as they were handed their drinks, kids would wave and giggle, parents would encourage them to get a closer look. The clown would shrink behind the sleek counter and do his job robotically, automatically. [[Next|P 6]]

He took his eyes off the clown and the bar, taking in the Circus in all its glory. The carnival music boomed out of places unknown to him, and the air inside seemed to be dancing on its rhythm. While the tent did not seem to be exactly small from the outside, it didn’t look overwhelmingly big either. However, now that he was inside, he wondered how had all this fit inside those frilly curtains that seemed to be stitched together almost by hand. There were multiple hallways that led to different rooms—a mirror maze, a doll house, and a seemingly abandoned carousel ride. But as everyone around him appeared to be moving towards the center of the tent, he followed them with dazed, amazed eyes. His feet seemed to be moving to the creaky beat of the music, taking a few steps forward before stumbling to a stop. People were now hurrying to find seats on the rows upon rows of bleachers in the circular arena. He quickly sat down in the first seat he found, the music still ringing in his ears and a rich, sweet and salty apple caramel smell filling up his lungs. Until it didn’t. The music suddenly cut off, a whisper taken away by a soft wind inside the tent, leaving enough room for a deafening silence in its place. It felt like all the air was being sucked out from somewhere outside the curtains that kept them all hidden from the full moon and the twinkling stars. The lights went out and people around him panicked, asking in buzzes of hushed and alarmed conversations if perhaps something had gone wrong before the show had even started. Oh, they had no idea how wrong things were already. [[Next|P 7]]

He was unable to focus, the dark made him nervous. So when a singular bright light made its way toward the curtains at the far end of the Circus ring, he sighed in relief, wiping his hands down his pants the same way he did at Melisandre's table earlier. The burgundy satin of the curtains moved just ever so slightly, but he caught the ripple in the fabric even from where he was sitting. A stray thought about the tarot reader from earlier crept up in his mind. The card that fell out of Melissandre’s deck. Death. He shrugged to himself. <em>Pfft, at least this seat is more comfortable than that old wooden thing</em>, he thought. And as soon as he finished that thought, the curtains opened in crimson waves, and let out one of the most shrinking people he had ever seen through them. He walked silently to the middle of the circle, his eyes serious but his mouth smirking. The man was intimidating—tall and with an air arrogance about him that he could sniff even from so far away in the bleachers. His stride was confident as he walked in wide steps towards the center of the ring. The man cocked his head at the audience, the light bouncing off of his gold earrings as he looked at everyone through long lashes. There was a heavy silence as people around him were shifting in their places, at the edge of their seats with excitement and anticipation. The man raises one hand forward, towards the bleachers, while keeping the either behind his back. “Welcome, everyone! Welcome to our Circus!” And the people <em>roar</em>. He hasn’t felt such giddiness in so long. He’s been trying to chase it, sure, with alcohol and other people’s hands on his body and climbing on random buildings’ roofs just to imagine himself jumping off them. He wanted to feel more—more happiness, more love, more of everything—so he would definitely feel enough of something with his head cracked open on the pavement, right? But there is no need for that anymore. No, there is no need. Because this moment, with loud cheers and tingling skin and funny scents that fill up his nostrils and fog his mind, is perfect. [[Next|P 8]]

“We have got so many surprises in store for you tonight,” the man says. “Some of them might seem so … surreal that you will wonder if there is sorcery at play. And some acts may look too real, they could even scare you.” The audience draws a sudden breath at that, and he does with them too. Scared? He could never be scared of anything here. This is the most amazing place he’s ever been in. He wouldn’t be scared of anything. ”However, don’t fret! Everything here is purely for your entertainment.” The man winks at someone close by in the front row seats, “Including me.” Everyone laughs, relieved. They would all love to be entertained by him, for sure. They could never be scared of him. Or of anything in this Circus, for that matter. They’re all having so much fun, aren’t they? ”Now, please remain seated until the very end of the show, as we promise to bring in front of you something incredible. Something you have never seen before.” The man’s voice is strong and smooth, honey ripping through the audience's ears with every word he says. They’re all hanging onto every single sound he makes. And while everyone looks at the Circus ring starry-eyed, he startles slightly to find the man’s eyes directly on him, bright yet cold, his vision blurry all of a sudden. “Something … unreal.” The crowd erupts in cheers and hoots, they simply cannot wait anymore. But his vision is still blurry, even though the man is not looking at him anymore, but somewhere to his right, somewhere on the upper side of the tent. “Something special for our most esteemed guests.” [[Next|P 9]]

There, perched on a small, beautifully-crafted dark balcony, a group of people he couldn’t have recognized even if he knew Them—and he was pretty sure he didn’t know Them anyway—were lounging around each other with glasses of something bubbly in their hands and masquerade masks stuck to their faces. It was a bizarre sight, he had to admit. He hadn’t even known there was any way to build a whole balcony inside a Circus tent, and yet there it was. <em>They all look so … rich</em>, he thought to himself with a sneer. Their dresses and suits were tailored to perfection, hugging Their bodies tight, almost uncomfortably so. He couldn’t see their shoes, but he would’ve betted all the little money he had that those were polished and squeaky clean too. He snorted. Some of Them had darkly colored lace gloves covering Their hands, but only a few. His inspecting gaze landed on trembling hands left bare for everyone to see. Red nails, sharp. He felt a prickly tingle on his head, tugging at his hair. No, it couldn’t be …. But oh, it was. The woman turned her head from where she was looking at the man in the ring and looked him straight in the eye, hers covered by her mask. She found him already looking though, and her still-trembling hands dropped the glass she was holding just moments before. Recognition widened her eyes, and then something else. Something like regret. Something like pity. He didn’t have time to decipher what those looks meant for himself, as the Circus was suddenly plugged into darkness so suffocating that made the hairs on his arms raise and his eyes water. He heard the man speak again, this time so close as if the purred words were whispered only to him. ”And remember: The Eyes of God are always watching.” He wonders if everyone else can smell the sickly scent of salty ocean too. And then all goes black. [[Next|P 10]]

… [[Next|P 11]]

A long time passes. A very long time. The woman with sharp red nails wonders if she is to blame for all this. She starts softly ripping the thin skin around her thumb nail with her perfectly white and straight teeth. He complimented her teeth once, doesn’t she remember? He’d said he had never seen such a gorgeous smile. Blood is starting to slowly drip from her finger, so she lets her arm fall down. She has most probably ruined his life, she knows. But it’s not like he will remember anything, right? She will see him every time she comes to the Circus, at least she will have that. Her thoughts are interrupted by the Ringleader introducing the next act. She’s always liked Pharo, such a charming showman. She bit her lip in excitement as Odessa strutted confidently to the center of the ring, grabbing the dancing pole with practiced ease. Her red hair bounced around her pale, caked face in pretty curls as her heels clicked with every move she made. She knew that everyone under the balcony was going crazy for her, dirty tongues lolling out of their mouths like dogs in heat. Yet she couldn't pay attention to any of them, she couldn’t take her eyes off Odessa. From above, two incredibly long pieces of fabric fell down in waves, and Odessa grabbed them tightly, spinning in the air, flying, smiling with all her teeth. The woman forgot all about him. [[Next|P 12]]

… [[Next|P 13]]

His head is throbbing, it feels like it’s been split open then sewn back together with thin stripes of metal. That’s what he tastes in his mouth too. Metal. Blood. He feels something around his wrists and ankles tying him to a chair, Straps. Leather. He can’t move, he can’t scream. His mouth opens but there is no sound coming out, and his limbs feel stuck, weak. His head shakes left and right in a denying frenzy, his eyes trying to find shapes in the dark, but he can’t see a thing. It’s like all his senses were suddenly gone, like someone took them from him. Stole them. Forced them out. A finger touches his head. Then another one, and another one, until two unexpectedly cold hands cover the freshly shaven parts of his scalp. His breath hitches and his fingers dig into his palms with a force that draws blood, yet he still can’t feel a thing. Only fear. Death. They shaved his head. The hands push onto his skull now, harder and harder. He gasps, gulping in a breath of air at the sudden pain, latching onto it with whatever remnant of will he’s got left. It hurts, it burns, it feels like a thousand blazing fires. The pain is too much, it all becomes too much for him to bear. He sees a wrecked ship on the stormy sea, and even its wood creaks as if knowing it won’t make it out. And he sees dark hair, lots of it, and green eyes like a forest. The forest he would go to as a child. The forest where it all happened. The forest— He comes face to face with a pair of golden eyes, bright against the dark. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” the voice coos. “Don’t worry, you won’t be able to remember a thing after I am done with you. Though … I suppose I have to find you a name now.” <em>I have a name</em>, he wanted to scream. <em>Oh, please, I have a name! Please stop hurting me, let me go. I have a name, I promise I’ll tell you. My name is—</em> A flash of white blinds him, and his head snaps with a loud crack as an all consuming pain drowns him into the depths of the sea. It is done. Death. [[Next|P 14]]

… [[Next|P 15]]

They have never seen anything like this before, never in their pathetic and insignificant lives. Such a wonder. Such a special thing. So wrong and twisted, floating in the water like it couldn’t move. No matter, everyone loves him. The audience erupts in horrified gasps, but Pharo knows it’s intrigue, in truth. He has shown them something they would have never expected, and they love it. He feels it in their hearts, their souls and bodies shaking only from seeing this little thing he brought before them. The ones on the balcony, They are impressed too. All wide eyes and lips rounded in shock. In surprise. In amusement. His hard work paid off. He did well. Though, Melissandre doesn’t seem to approve much. She sneaked inside the tent in the middle of the second act and burned holes in the back of his head with how much she stared at him. Now her eyebrows are drawn together in a frown, mouth thinned to a line of disgust and disapprovement. He rolls his eyes. Whatever. Who gives a fuck what Melissandre thinks, anyway? But the tarot card she holds up in her hand catches his attention. She is gripping it so tight, the pads of her fingers are turning white. <em>What a curious thing</em>, Pharo thinks. Death.