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

Singing

    Rook didn't ask for much. He was fine with walking for days on end. He didn't mind the fighting and killing. He'd gotten used to living on stale bread and dried meat. He just wished Lume would stop singing.

    "Once in my travels," Lume bellowed, waving his arms in tune with the melody. "I fell from my saddle, and landed right on a fish! I lighted a fire, a real great big pyre, and made it into a dish!"


    Rook skewered the last of the would-be ambushers and rubbed his temples. Lume had been singing for fourteen hours straight.

--
Book of the now: Before They Are Hanged, by Joe Abercrombie
Music of the now: Speed F*cks, by Charlie Parra

Nose

    Jax prodded his nose gingerly, wincing at the pain. Yep, definitely broken. He placed a hand on either side of it and gritted his teeth.
    "That's what you get for jumping face first into a wall," he said and snapped his nose back into place. He failed to stifle a scream. It wasn't the first time he'd set his broken nose, but it always hurt like a bitch.
    Groaning, he got to his feet, brushing off dirt and licking the blood off his lips. A man dropped to the ground in front of Jax, punched him in the face and broke his nose.

--
Music of the now: Stormy Weather Boys, by Drumlin

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

Exile

    "Exile rocks," Lume declared, planting his right foot on a rock and striking a pose. "The entire world lies before us, just begging to be explored." He gestured wildly at the flat, desolate plain. "Think of the marvels we'll find, Rook. Fame and fortune awaits!"

    Rook glared at his boistrous companion, adjusted the shield strapped to his back and started walking. His sword clanked gently against his chainmail as he walked towards the forest looming in the distance. "That's the spirit," Lume said, running to catch up. "I knew I could trust you!" He punched Rook's arm good-naturedly. "Ow," he muttered.

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."

Jax

    Jax lands hard, biting his tongue and tasting blood. Nothing is broken or strained. That's good. His heart is racing and his arms are shaking. His palms are bleeding,  sand and gravel sticking to them. He dares a quick peek behind him and sees the dark suited men jumping from rooftop to rooftop. They're gaining on me, he thinks. If he doesn't do something clever, he's going to end up like Jane. He launches himself off the roof and towards the large window in the building opposite. With a resounding thud he hits the 2 inch-thick window and knocks himself unconscious.