Day 357

A flyer for a "secret" fair came through your door.
The paper began to crumble in your hands as you noted down the address and date.
By the time you had finished it was a small pile of dust.
This wasn't new to you, this fair came by once a year, a different date and venue every time.

Seems that this year's one was to be held along a wide alley you knew only by name.
It was near the old town hall, down by the Dutch Quarter.
They organisers did so love to host in decrepit places and especially near graves.
Nobody really knows who the main company is but we assume they mean well.

As always there was a parade to celebrate the opening of the fair which was full of strangers.
Not your usual run-of-the-mill strangers either, they were strangers and not quite human.
There was a forum on the town's social media site debating the nature and existence of them.
The most popular theory so far was that they were temporary reincarnations of the deceased.

They did have this air of familiarity about them, like their names were just out of mind's reach.
Shame they were never seen again after the fair ended, each year brought new strangers out.
At least it kept the locals busy, photographing and questioning these partial outsiders even if
their correspondence was impossible to recall or note down.

Besides these beings and the inability to recall any significant features they possessed (if they
even had features) the rest of the fair and its events were generally pretty innocuous.
From the jewellery stalls and their humming artefacts to the musicians' incessant wailing to
the way everyone seemed to mouth the same words over and over again in between conversations.

All was at it had always been at the "secret" fair.