The Contortionist (Harrow Faire, #1)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

Wait. What the fiddly-fuck did I just see?

“Locks only keep out the honest” was a motto her dad always used to say to her, usually while he was cutting the padlock on some abandoned building so he could take her in to look around.

She was probably going to eat her weight in funnel cake and other fried bullshit, so she should take it easy.

Hopefully, they sold alcohol. She knew she drank too much. She wasn’t an alcoholic, not by any means, but a drink a night was probably not a great way to live.

He looked…there was no nice way of putting it. He looked like a sleazebag from the 1920s.

“See, I’m coming up with options for what the hell you’re talking about, and all of them are dirty. So…I’m going to need more than that.”

lmfaoooo

“No, I think your life turned you into nobody interesting.”

Daring her to do something was basically all a person had to do to guarantee she did it.

“You know how she was, always such a prima donna. She went out the way she lived, as an inconvenience.”

“Yeah, yeah…I don’t want a lecture tonight. Not about relationships and certainly not about letting things go.” Emily’s voice took on a bitter edge. “Not from you.”

“Sorry. Sorry. You just know how much I hate it when he…does this shit.”

“Yeah, right. What’re you gonna do? Join the freakshow?” “Maybe! Don’t judge. I’d make a great freak.” “The Amazing Breakable Cora Glass. I can see it now.” Her friend grinned.

“Lady, all I am is failure and stagnation.” Cora snickered. “My life is already a disappointment. You’re not warning me against much.”

“Sleep well, Cora. I’ll see you soon. May your dreams be quiet.” What an odd-ass thing to say to someone.

At least it was “blue” flavored, which was her preference. Red was supposed to be cherry, green was sour apple—which was just awful—and blue was…she could never quite figure it out. It just tasted like “blue.”

The perspective was all wrong. The handle was dinky, and the font didn’t wrap right. Stick to photography, loser.

“I’d tell you my name, but you already know it. Which is creepy. And makes you, ipso facto, a creep.”

Clowns are a little creepy, Emily. I’ll give you that. At least these ones are, anyway.

Trent liked Lisa well enough, but resented Robert and her children for always “ruining things” when they were around. He never felt bad when Lisa couldn’t come out anymore.

shitty

While Cora didn’t want kids, she liked them. Especially when she could give them back.

She fell into step with Trent. “Be nice, T-bag.”

“It’s not my fault they get in the way.”

fuck him

And while this man looked to be a few cards short of a full deck,

Both beard and boobs were proudly on display.

“None taken, sweetheart.” The bearded woman smiled. “We’re all freaks here. I just wear mine on the outside.”

God, it tasted good. Underrated thing, water.

“I don’t know if I’m going to come back to the Faire after tonight, but thank you anyway.” There was an odd, knowing, and sad smile on Bertha’s bearded face. “I hope you’re right.”

“That’s fine. I’m surprised you’ve been up and walking around as much as you have been, what with your Raggedy Ann joints and all. You must be a wreck.”

“None of this is happening. None of this is real.”

we are almost halfway through the book we need to get it togther love

She swallowed thickly. She didn’t like how close he was. His knees were on either side of her right leg, toothed together with hers.

His ever-present grin widened, and he leaned forward. Suddenly, he was caging her against the back of the sofa. His knee was on the cushion between her legs, and his hands were on either side of her as he moved, lithe as a panther, and trapped her.

Laugh now. Laugh long. Soon comes the grave.

The photo on her camera was of a ticket booth that had been ravaged by time and neglect. Abandoned, faded, the cracked paint flaking off. People stood buying tickets from no one. The booth, once more, was devoid of people. But it had been fully staffed—she knew there had been people there when she took the photo!

One after another, all the images were the same. Neglected, abandoned rides and stalls, surrounded by laughing people. The figures were illuminated by lights that were shattered and broken.

Cora smiled, trying to wipe what must be a look of full and utter existential dread off her face.

This place is alive. It’s eating people. It took a piece of me.

Schizo lmaoo

“Hello, Cora dear.” Light flashed off his sunglasses, making them blink amber. It didn’t help him look less monstrous. Fuck you, buddy. She pulled the gun from her coat.

I'm fucking deaddddd

The smell of antiques, warm and welcoming, slid over her again, mixed with an equally old-fashioned but enticing cologne.

I'd fold like a lawn chair no cap

“It might be a clue to what’s going on here in the Faire.”

I hate mystery romances. Idc whats going on in the fair ngl

But each one was her best friend in the world, butchered and lying dead in the dirt, covered in blood.

Best friend is very liberal but okay

“It was my pleasure.” She shot him a look. He blinked and realized what he said. “Ah, yes, well, not like that. Or, well, that’s a bit of a lie, perhaps but—now,

Lmfaooo

“See?” Simon pointed at her. “I didn’t do a thing. She asked me to hurt her.” He smiled. “She’s into that kind of thing.”

“I’m still processing that fact.” “You are a little slow. I understand.”

I swear hes allergic to the pussy

“Oh, yes. Wonderful motivator, pain. Wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes glinted in mischief as he looked down at her askance.

ALLERGIC

Check, please.

Family guy is ruining my life

“The Faire is…is talking to me.” She

Stupid! Stupid!

That was advice she had every intention of following. But as she slipped her hand into her pocket

Eye-

And also, y’know, because she was having a major existential crisis. I guess I’m allowed.

Me asf

If Trent suspected something naughty was going on in any situation, involving absolutely anyone, it was always locked in as fact in his head. It usually made things funny, but in this instance it was frustrating.

I can’t wait to actually meet this guy now. He seemed a few crayons short of the full set. I never figured you for the kind to like the crazy fucks. They are the best in bed, though.