Viser opslag med etiketten Harlequin. Vis alle opslag
Viser opslag med etiketten Harlequin. Vis alle opslag

onsdag den 12. januar 2011

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

tirsdag den 4. januar 2011

Harlequin

High above the hustle and bustle of his carnival, Harlequin sat slumped in his colourful throne, gazing at the moon. 

"Solomooon," he whined and turned his masked face - a grimace of despair - towards the raven perched on the armrest. "I'm ever so bored.

The raven cawed, as ravens are wont to do, and picked a loose thread out of Harlequin's ruffled sleeve. The sound of firecrackers and children's laughter reached his prison, and, not for the first time, he struggled violently against the irons that shackled him to his throne. He let out a frustrated scream before falling silent.