Laughter 'til Crying
With footfalls like a marionette, the jester walked loosely, wavering about like a ragdoll. His slender form, tall and bony, teetered back and forth. Cornflower blue eyes watched everything and nothing, they drifted, drinking it all in joyously, like a child struck by the wonder of Disney World for the first time.
Suddenly, with a flash, the jester ignited into a ball of hot white and orange, his clothing melting in a cacophony of blacks and reds. Cries failed to carry, dying in silent screams just beyond his lips. Flames dragged the jester to the floor, and all too quickly, left him as an aghast skull attached to a frail frame. It crawled for a while, its coal black eyes seeking blindly for relief. The fire clung angrily to its memory, even as the flames died against bone.
Slowly the jester pulled itself to its feet. Like a coat of searing metal, that damned heat still enveloped its bones, the fire felt as though it coursed through its insides, tearing through organs already gone, boiling fluids no longer there. Respite fell only from its eyes, as cool streaks downed its skinless cheeks.
Unable to say anything. . .unable to speak. . .it clacked its jaw in frustration. Though it knew cool, hot, and pain, the sensation of feeling evaded it, and it saw nothing.
Death didn't come. Death never would. Though no flames licked its ribs and no fire grabbed at its ankles, the jester would forever burn. It didn't know why.
. . .It never would.
Suddenly, with a flash, the jester ignited into a ball of hot white and orange, his clothing melting in a cacophony of blacks and reds. Cries failed to carry, dying in silent screams just beyond his lips. Flames dragged the jester to the floor, and all too quickly, left him as an aghast skull attached to a frail frame. It crawled for a while, its coal black eyes seeking blindly for relief. The fire clung angrily to its memory, even as the flames died against bone.
Slowly the jester pulled itself to its feet. Like a coat of searing metal, that damned heat still enveloped its bones, the fire felt as though it coursed through its insides, tearing through organs already gone, boiling fluids no longer there. Respite fell only from its eyes, as cool streaks downed its skinless cheeks.
Unable to say anything. . .unable to speak. . .it clacked its jaw in frustration. Though it knew cool, hot, and pain, the sensation of feeling evaded it, and it saw nothing.
Death didn't come. Death never would. Though no flames licked its ribs and no fire grabbed at its ankles, the jester would forever burn. It didn't know why.
. . .It never would.