The Rival.
An Iron Age Media Prompt - The Harlequin.
This was a tough one. I Imagined the story as the delusional ramblings of a clown to his rival the harlequin. I also tried to make it a halloween story, I’m still not sure what i have accomplished. Enjoy!
Images that come to mind, when thinking of o’ brother thine, is one of buffoonery. While one of my station can only be impressed, that you made it out of the right side of bed and looked yourself in the mirror, for then you would surely see what the barkers and marks you have come to impress.
But with all the admiration and mirth you bring, they know you not like I do. A doppelganger, a clone, a shadow of a man. Not so much soulless, bust as one whose being has been siphoned with every trick and jest. You hide it well, but those with certain eyes can see that you are a shell, a non-being.
And I am not being cruel, oh no, for you see there are others such as you who have given themselves over. Whose double life leads them to ride with the devil, a cocktail of empathy and forget-me-nots, a slicer and stinger, courtesies for the unsuspecting and weak. tricks and treats indeed, you’ll show them.
They are as faceless as you are. Victims of the climate, the heat of the night. And when you return no one is wiser for they see in you the nostalgia of their innocence and youth, and that mask you wear it so well. But I know, oh yes, I know.
For you see I am the next to be courted by the night and we’ll sing all her songs and dance her dances. I feel it slipping away, like a veil of enchantment washing over me, from my crown, down my face, electricity spiking nerve endings, twitching with loss and anticipation. They feed on us, and that is the price.
Will they accept me into the fold? Will you give me your confidence? It matters not, for in my mind everything has been arranged. We’ve sped away, howling at the moon, harlots at our side, firing wildly into the darkness. Back into town where we stash our ill-gotten gains and spend the remainder of the night drinking like fish. I promise to be on my best behaviour.
Anarchy has reigned until one of us poses the question, who leads this rabble of outcasts, and the we will see, o yes brother, we will see. Will the visage hold? Will it be everything I have hoped it to be? for surely, we are the only two suitable contenders. A broken rib would be worth the tussle, just to know… just to know.
Until then, I, as you, will remain silent, please the crowds, applaud with the masses. But staring into your dim, glassy eyes, your depressions, your peculiarities will be well hidden and you can be sure that mine are well hidden behind the mask I wear. Until we meet, face to face, I will admire from afar, checking in once and a while making sure my fantasies haven’t taken over, a shattered reality.
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