Portrait of A Clown
The whimpering wind whistled, the horses trotted down the cobblestone, and the carriages continued down the road. A helpless woman was being attacked by the pains of childbirth. Screams erupted from her inner mandrake deafening the constant silence. Resulting from 27 hours of near-hellish agony, Rachel broke into an unexplainable bliss, and Matthew was born. Miles away, a childish Fiona sat playing with her dolls. Life was carefree and consisted of none other than Rainbow Brite and Sesame Street. Little did she know that in years to come, these childhood memories would be but a dream to her when she met her fate.
* * * * *
The road was dark, thick with fog. The stars sparkled in the sky. The moon was red as the pumping blood fluctuating through my veins at this very moment. For tonight was the night. The night when the most horrible thing imaginable would take place. The night was young, leaving many possibilities for the troubled clown. He wandered around the streets of the city for inspiration, when his eyes fell upon the dance theater across the road. He looked through the window and saw none other than his long lost love Fiona. Fiona was his only love, for the clown was not sought after by many. His budding relationship, unfortunately, had come to an end the week before. Fiona, being the shallow woman she was, could not see beneath the delicately painted face from which her destiny would follow.
As the clown traced his way back through tearful memories, the most brilliant thought came to mind. Tonight would be the night when Fiona would see another side of the troubled clown. The clown worked his way down the pathway of hell. He stepped inside the dance studio, and gingerly made his way to the top floor where Fiona was practicing ballet. The clown knew this profession well, for he was a retired janitor at this dance studio. Every day on his break, he would sit and watch his glistening angel at work. He studied everything she did. Soon, Fiona became his only reason for life. When his relationship with Fiona died, so did the clown. Tonight was the night when Fiona would realize what she lost. The clown continued, intimately staring at Fiona. Her face was soft as the silk from which her golden leotard was woven. Her body fluttered across the stage like a beautiful butterfly. While the clown watched Fiona, he realized that his passionate feelings put forth to her were not felt in return. This was the point in the clown's life where he felt he must have revenge.
The whimpering wind whistled, the horses trotted down the cobblestone, and the carriages continued down the road. A helpless woman was being attacked by the pains of childbirth. Screams erupted from her inner mandrake deafening the constant silence. Resulting from 27 hours of near-hellish agony, Rachel broke into an unexplainable bliss, and Matthew was born. Miles away, a childish Fiona sat playing with her dolls. Life was carefree and consisted of none other than Rainbow Brite and Sesame Street. Little did she know that in years to come, these childhood memories would be but a dream to her when she met her fate.
* * * * *
The road was dark, thick with fog. The stars sparkled in the sky. The moon was red as the pumping blood fluctuating through my veins at this very moment. For tonight was the night. The night when the most horrible thing imaginable would take place. The night was young, leaving many possibilities for the troubled clown. He wandered around the streets of the city for inspiration, when his eyes fell upon the dance theater across the road. He looked through the window and saw none other than his long lost love Fiona. Fiona was his only love, for the clown was not sought after by many. His budding relationship, unfortunately, had come to an end the week before. Fiona, being the shallow woman she was, could not see beneath the delicately painted face from which her destiny would follow.
As the clown traced his way back through tearful memories, the most brilliant thought came to mind. Tonight would be the night when Fiona would see another side of the troubled clown. The clown worked his way down the pathway of hell. He stepped inside the dance studio, and gingerly made his way to the top floor where Fiona was practicing ballet. The clown knew this profession well, for he was a retired janitor at this dance studio. Every day on his break, he would sit and watch his glistening angel at work. He studied everything she did. Soon, Fiona became his only reason for life. When his relationship with Fiona died, so did the clown. Tonight was the night when Fiona would realize what she lost. The clown continued, intimately staring at Fiona. Her face was soft as the silk from which her golden leotard was woven. Her body fluttered across the stage like a beautiful butterfly. While the clown watched Fiona, he realized that his passionate feelings put forth to her were not felt in return. This was the point in the clown's life where he felt he must have revenge.