Stephen King aside, not every circus hides a serial killer.
Not every circus opens far, far away from the city, and lights, and safety, and accountability.
Not every circus conceals smiling exhibits who cower privately under the lash of the sinister, greedy owners.
Not every circus is run by depraved maniacs who watch for children walking alone, children whose guardians aren’t as close to hand as perhaps they ought to be.
Not every circus holds cruelly-treated animals ready to break their bonds, burst forward and savage their trainers before launching themselves into the tightly-packed audience.
Not every circus hides its mysteries in sour-smelling crates which will be left off the side of a dirt road in its travels.
But, one or two of them might.
And it’s that tiny chance that makes the circus exciting.