Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Jester's Journey

The King and Queen would accept nothing but the best, their desire to out shine their newly won subjects higher than their senses. The subjects, he knew, would be sequestered against their will and required to pay homage with bended knee and bowed head before all their dead were laid to rest. In the midst of their mourning, it would be his job as jester to illicit smiles and laughter from the downtrodden crowd. So, he'd planned how he would end the Winter Festival at Sarah Lucia's vast garden estates with great care.

The dinner bell rang in the dark and bitter cold night as he donned his evening's attire. It was a new suit he'd had made just for the event. Two tailor's took part, each a different portion. Then, he had personally sewn those two pieces together to ensure the surprise kept.

Quietly he made his way to the stairs that lead to the narrow balcony that over looked the great room. There, he draped a banner heavily over his neck and whispered a prayer. Looking over the crowd, he heard the forced gaiety floating up to him like notes of music.

"Beautiful ladies and even prettier gents," he called clearly and loudly to the crowd below. Eyes followed the sound of his voice. He paused until all rested solely upon him. "For your evenings pleasure or displeasure," he said gesturing gallantly as he placed his feet on the narrow banister, "I invite you to take a journey with me."

Gasps echoed off the walls as he flipped over the balcony. His body dangled several feet off the floor, his neck held firmly by the noose he'd woven into the ends of the banner. A few kicks and he ceased to fight.

The banner fell limply from his body. STAND UP AND FIGHT. DEATH IS A WELCOME FREEDOM UNDER THIS REIGN, it said.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

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