Ambush

    Jonathan Phrase was many things, but he was not a fool. He knew when to fight, when to run and when to hide. Now, he knew that none of those were possible. The dark suited men, eight of them, had him surrounded. At first, he had fought. The first man had gone down under a flurry of vicious blows, metal bones broken and shattered. Jonathan Phrase had been lucky, and he knew it. The second man had thrown a small, white sphere at him, and if he hadn't brought his arm up to deflect it, he would most certainly have died.

-- 

Music of the now: SCV Love Song, by Nerd Alert

Harlequin, cont.

Apologies for the lack of update yesterday; I was preparing for an exam (which I passed, thanks for asking) and I had neither the time nor the energy to let loose the hounds of creativity. As means of atonement, today's story will be 202 words long - twice the normal length. Enjoy.

    Far below the Harlequin's prison, a young girl was laughing. With bright eyes, she stared in wonder at the myriad of bright colors and whirling shapes that filled the carnival. A man dressed in green and purple robes skated past on a pair of gold-colored roller skates, juggling torches. A woman with short, spiky, purple hair appeared before her, walking on her hands. Standing on one hand, she pulled a single gold sovereign out of the girl's ear. With a theatrical wink, she flicked it to the girl and ran off, legs in the air. 

***

"Sad story, really," Jonathan Phrase said to nobody in particular. 

"Wha' is?" a small voice asked.

He looked around for the source of the voice and was surprised to find a small girl looking up at him. 

"Why, the story of the Harlequin," he said, gesturing towards the star-filled sky. "See there, at the center of the moon? That's Harlequin. He was a great man, once; spreading peace and joy wherever he went. A knight of the realm and a champion of humanity. For his victory against the darkness, he was granted immortality." 

He looked down with a sad smile. "In the end, it drove him mad."

--
Music of the now: Winter Winds, by Mumford and Sons

Post-Apocalyptic

The burned out remnants of a forgotten age. That was what Jonathan Phrase saw. Massive buildings - now nothing more than hollow shells - towered above him. Thousands upon thousands of empty windows. Broken shards of glass crunched under his boots as he stalked along a nameless street. A blackened skeleton lay in the middle of the road, arms reaching out as if trying to crawl away from him. He'd probably died instantly, Jonathan Phrase thought. When the orb shattered and unleashed the fires within, everything within a thousand miles perished. Far above, a pair of bright blue eyes watched him.

--
Book of the now: The Blade Itself, by Joe Abercrombie
Music of the now: Don't Pay The Ferryman, by Chris de Burgh

The Orb

    Jonathan Phrase threw the orb to Jax who promptly dropped it. It bounced once, twice. Jonathan Phrase looked at Jax.

    "Really?" he said. "Really, Jax?"

    "Sorry," Jax said and picked up the orb. He turned it over in his hands, staring intently. After a few moments he held it out to Jonathan. "See?" he said. "Not even a scratch. It's gonna take more than a little fall to break this fucker, old man."

    Jonathan Phrase smacked him on the head with the end of his staff. "That's for cursing," he said. He smacked him again. "And that's for calling me old."