The Armitage Files
Suspicious, standoffish locals move hesitatingly between the stalls and rides of a flea-bitten carnival. Anxious mothers pull their children tight. Fathers fish in their pockets for the keys to their automobiles. An unblinking painted eye adorns the red tent of a fortune teller. The low weeping of a disappointed client can be heard from inside the closed but candlelit tent.
A row of trucks that have seen better days pull a string of large box caravans, mostly drab, but three in brighter colours, bright red, blue, yellow.
Vladimir Krotkin strongman
Scantily-clad women parade about on the forestage of a hoochy-coochy show, their fleshy charms celebrated by a boater-wearing fast-talker. In the distant gloom, apart from the rest of the show, stands the freak show tent. A parade of painted deformities disports on its cloth banners, attracting onlookers afflicted with a taste for the grotesque.