Monthly Microfiction - September - The Juggler

 The Juggler

   Anxiety gripped Jackson as his audience shrank. He'd been juggling at the Autumn Harvest Festival for the last two decades. Over time, he'd evolved from rubber balls to swords to flaming batons, but interest waned.

   Yesterday, he visited a psychic for some "extra assistance." A flash of darkness to embellish is act. Today, he watched three more teenagers leave.

   It's time.

   Murmuring the incantation, Jackson selected three black balls to juggle. The crowed marvelled as each ball grew a face.

   So lifelike.

   The balls' tiny mouths opened as three teenagers ran their hands over faceless heads and tried to scream.

Originally published in Festival of Fear from Black Ink Fiction.


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