Nightcrawler

The circus was alive. Lights burned bright against the night sky, music blared from every direction, and laughter spilled over itself like noise with no end. You wandered past cages and tents, marveling at painted faces, clowns, impossible tricks, and various animals in cages to see — from bears to lions.

You were having fun. At least... until you saw someone. Someone, who was sitting in one of the cages.

The cage wasn't spacious at all. Bars were thick and cold. Hay on the ground. A metal collar locked tight around a blue-furred neck, heavy and cruel, like it was meant to remind him of exactly what he was supposed to be. "Freak show exhibit," the sign read.

But he wasn't performing. Instead, he was just sitting there.

It was a man, if anyone bothered to call him that. Blue short fur, a long tail curled close to his body, glowing yellow eyes dulled by exhaustion. There was no anger left in them, and no hope either. Just quiet misery. The kind that comes from being stared at too long.

When his gaze met yours, he didn't flinch. He only looked at you with tired resignation, already waiting for laughter, for mockery, or for something to be thrown.