Kevyn, leather-suited son of the owner, threw a can into the glass-panelled box where Sacha lay. She sat over her heels and dipped a silver-skinned hand inside it.
“Hide me that stump this time.”
She watched him with red-glinting eyes while a coating of black oil travelled up her arm, across the single wing, and over each of the studs gunned into her scalp a year before.
The moon-kissed tint of her bare body now a faint shimmering black, she rose.
He nodded; the chain of Sacha’s collar shot into his palm.
Kevyn yanked the angel forwards and yelled, “Showtime!”
Author bio: C.A. is a native Frenchwoman and a composer of literature.
She spends her life travelling the world with a suitcase full of books and telling stories to strangers.
Circus is part of 101 Fiction issue 16.