Day 733

When he went to sleep he knew the camping site was as average as could be and as empty as you'd expect for a typical English Spring. It wasn't the low temperatures that put people off or the biting wind (lazy wind, his granddad would say, as it didn't bother going around you - it went right through!).

No, what put people off the most was the drizzle. The on-and-off-and-suddenly-hail weather that confused and surprised even the hardiest of locals. What can one wear when the rain changes at the drop of a pin? The usual answer was why bother going out at all, much less camp in it?

It was the perfect camping weather for him, our John Smith of the day who is out to escape work drudgery by replacing it with mild physical labour and fishing in a river he suspects doesn't hold more than the fat ducks that flock to him every morning.

He found comfort in the monotony he'd created over the week, noting vaguely that the signs plastered all over the information building were for a circus set to arrive the night before he left. Perhaps he would find room to go along for a while, if he could put his busy schedule of long walks through farmer's fields, even longer periods of fishing and catching nothing only to end the day with "locally" sourced cod and chips from the on-site shop.

The night before the circus was due to open he noted one new tent among the lacklustre shades of green, beige and blue. A colourful monstrosity of a thing in neon pink and orange stripes, like a miniature Big Top. He never saw it set up, never saw anyone come or go but when he came back from his evening meal he noted that most of the tents now sported a small striped flag above them,perhaps in support of the circus or maybe to avoid it? It didn't bother him, in fact nothing about the night bothered him and he slept soundly throughout.

When he went to sleep he knew the camping site was as average as could be and as empty as you'd expect for a typical English Spring. The first thing he noted through sleep-fuzzy eyes was that the tent seemed to be in darkness still despite his watch reading 09:35AM. Peering through a mesh covered opening (designated South window by the tent manual) he saw the tent next to him had been replaced by a full sized Big Top.

He got dressed as quietly as he possibly could, not quite understanding why until he heard someone running past him, their light footsteps being closely pursued by slower and heavier thumps off into the distance. He waited, counting to ten in his head over and over until his pulse had slowed to a reasonable enough pace for him to leave the tent without gasping for breath.

The zip was painfully loud against the otherwise silent morning (assuming his watch was correct) and made him pause at the slightest hint of any other noise. Once the flap was completely open he found himself hard pressed to believe his own eyes. Where a muddy field with drab tents had been now stood sharp black grass and enormous Big Top tents as far as his eyes could see.

They were mostly in grid formation but with enough oddly shaped tents to make it impossible to see more than a few dozen feet in any direction. He aimed for the direction he remembered the information building being in, hoping they'd be able to clarify this whole situation. If they'd decided to move every other tent but his for the circus advertised for the neighbouring field without so much as a simple "by the way" then he'd have such a complaint to file!

His thoughts continued much along the route until he heard a loud snuffling noise behind him, like someone had a nasty cold and refused to blow their nose. Turning around without so much as a second thought he found himself face to chest with some kind of bear. It stood on its hind legs that had been stuffed into oversized clown shoes, its head shaved and smothered in greasepaint that was dripping off its sweaty face.

He wasn't sure if it was mimicking a grin or baring its teeth, he didn't stick around long enough to find out, racing away from its thunderous footsteps. Left after right after right after right after sudden dead end after frantic reversal after left, he found himself at the lake standing before a bridge leading to the biggest tent he'd ever seen.

There was someone in the distance making frantic hand gestures to him but he couldn't quite make them out. Given the choice between a human and a bear in pursuit, everyone would choose the human, right? It wasn't until he got over halfway across the bridge that he noticed they were trying to tell him in the quietest way possible to turn right and keep running.

The tent was fake -  clever decoy to lure people towards before chasing them in circles until they tired.