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0 — Cirque de la Lune

October 18, 1872

For the past eighteen years, Amy Rose had wanted to have a family.

However, while most girls of the St. John School for Orphaned Girls had gotten adopted, Amy had been forgotten. "You've come of age where you may no longer stay," Hershey had explained in her office.

Less than a week had passed since Amy heard this, and she still felt the tears that had stung the back of her eyes. "I'm sure a brothel might want you," Hershey had continued, "you might not be the most stunning but men don't care for that there. You'll be wanted there especially with how young and pure you still are. Men love that."

Her heart had broken at those words, and now, standing in front of the famous brothel, the young pink hedgehog wore a reformed aesthetic dress and took in a heavy breath. With a suitcase at her side, she had came here with a purpose. She stood in the fading light, the scarf around her neck pulled up against the chilly evening breeze, nerves flowing through her body as she lifted to knock on the door.

Starting today, her whole life was about to change.

"Move it, lady!" A little boy's voice shouted and Amy was shoved slightly away from the door, just when she was about to knock and she steadied herself with wide eyes.

Two little boys had shoved past her and the pink hedgehog glared them with a frown. "Come on let's go see it," Shouted the boy running in front of the other one with a wide smile on his lips, "the circus is about to open!"

Amy watched as about a dozen school children and families followed and made their way down the pavement with smiles and laughs. A circus? She thought for a moment and glanced back at the brothel only to make a face of determination and tighten her grip onto her suitcase, and begin to follow the crowd, wanting to see for herself exactly what kind of circus only opened once the sun sets.

The ticket booth was clearly visible behind the gates is closed and barred. The tents were still, save for when they rippled ever so slightly in the wind. The only movement within the circus was the clock that ticked by the passing minutes, if such a wonder of sculpture can even be called a clock.

The circus looked abandoned and empty. But Amy thought perhaps she could smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold.

But it is not open for business. Not just yet.

Within hours everyone in town had heard about it. By afternoon the news had spread several towns over. Word of mouth is a more effective method of advertisement than typeset words and exclamation points on paper pamphlets or posters. It is impressive and unusual news, the sudden appearance of a mysterious circus. People marvel at the staggering height of the tallest tents. They stared at the clock that sat just inside the gates that no one could properly describe.

And the black sign painted in white letters that hanged upon the gates, the one that read:

Opens at Nightfall

Closes at Dawn

"What kind of circus is only open at night?" A small child wondered. No one had a proper answer, yet as dusk approached there was a substantial crowd of spectators gathering outside the gates.

The sun disappeared completely beyond the horizon, and the remaining luminosity shifts from dusk to twilight. The people around her grew restless from waiting, a sea of shuffling feet, murmuring about abandoning the endeavor in search of someplace warmer to pass the evening. Amy herself debated departing when it happened.

First, there was a popping sound. It is barely audible over the wind and conversation. A soft noise like a kettle about to boil for tea. Then came the light.

All over the tents, small lights began to flicker, as though the entirety of the circus was covered in particularly bright fireflies. The waiting crowd silenced as they watched the display of illumination. Someone near her gasped. A small child claps his hands with glee at the sight.

When the tents are all aglow, sparkling against the night sky, the sign appears.

Stretched across the top of the gates, hidden in curls of iron, more firefly-like lights flicker to life. They pop as they brighten, some accompanied by a shower of glowing white sparks and a bit of smoke. The people nearest to the gates took a few steps back.

At first, it was only a random pattern of lights. But as more of them ignited, it became clear that they are aligned in scripted letters. First a C is distinguishable, followed by more letters. A q, oddly, and several e's. When the final bulb pops alight, and the smoke and sparks dissipated, it was finally legible, this elaborate incandescent sign. Leaning to her left to gain a better view, Amy could see that it read:

Le Cirque de la Lune

Some in the crowd smiled knowingly, while others frowned and looked questioningly at their neighbors. A child near her tugged on her mother's sleeve, begging to know what it says.

"The Circus of the Moon," came the reply. The girl smiled delightedly.

Then the iron gates shuddered and unlocked, seemingly by their own volition. They swung outward, inviting the crowd inside.

Now the circus is open.

Now all may enter.

Short chapter but this is a prologue and the story will progress after this and get ready for some werehog action in the next chapter! Also make sure to vote on my profile which story should be updated next and late this week I will update depending on which scores highest this Wednesday!

Also if anyone would mind helping me with a better summary XP