Prologue

Long blue locks flowed after the tiny girl as she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her.  Though the reality of catching the trailer before her was bleak, her hopes were high. Her little shoes barely made any noise against the pavement. The only thing she could hear was the quickened pace of her own heart. It hurt to breathe, yet she didn't give up. Reaching out for the little balcony on the back of the trailer, she tried so very hard to grasp one of the cool metal bars.

It was so close: merely inches away from her fingertips. Just when she truly believed she could grab it the girl stumbled. Dread filled the pit of her stomach and in that moment time seemed to slow. If she fell she would never be able to catch up. Not to mention the fact that she could injure herself in the process. Her bag fell forward on her shoulders as if to weigh her down. Eyes falling closed, she braced herself for the worst. 

A gloved hand suddenly found her own and before the girl knew it, she had been hoisted up into a pair of strong arms. Somehow she had not seen the man whose black eyes - which upon closer inspection were colored by contact lenses - had been watching her struggle. Locks red as blood itself fell into his face. He offered her a small grin, his fake fangs making an appearance.

"What in ze world are you doing, petite belle?" He asked, a French accent evident in his English.

The British girl easily recognized him. Her brother had taken her to the Circus the night before. The man that had just saved her was none other than the leader of Cirque Du Morte: The best Circus in the world, in her opinion. The gothic acts and costumes along with the amazing music and vibrant performers seemed to mesh together with a constant theme of Halloween. Not once did she ever take her eyes away from any of the performances. It had been so much to take in that she had not wanted to miss a single instant of it.

Her little black skirt ruffled slightly as she squirmed out of his arms. The black cape she wore flowed lightly in the breeze of the moving trailer, and she had to straighten her skeleton t-shirt before she looked up to him again. Standing there in all of her Halloween glory, she held out her hand to him: bright blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Mister Ringmaster, my name is Matilda Tibbs. You can call me Tilly!," She said, looking to him so very seriously. "And I wanna work for ya!"

Reviews

[Kaine]

Oh, this sounds promising. Nice pace, nice choice of words, and the only bad thing I wanna say is; there's not enough. I very much want to read more.

[Zak]

Now here is something that is well written. You seem to have the right pace going here for your tale.
Hahaha I love how people write about multi-colored hair. It's fun to imagine.
Keep working! :D