Something quite strange happens at the Circus around this time of year: even though you never quite feel anything, you can never shake the eerie suspicion that there is something (perhaps even several somethings) reaching out through the darkness for you. Trying to run its fingers through your hair, and pluck at your clothing. Trying to touch and grasp and send shivers all through you by running a cold claw down your spine. Reaching…but never quite getting there. Always just a hairsbreadth away. Always just out of…reach. Thank goodness.