Harlequin

Reads: 297  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 6

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Cover image: pixabay.com.

Harlequin

Most people would probably think I’m crazy, but please believe me when I say that there is method in my madness.

All dressed up, like some kind of colorful clown, I’ll dance my way along the street, juggling balls and letting the rhythm take control of my feet. I want to draw attention to myself today, even if a lot of it is of the insulting, derisory kind.

I know exactly where he’ll be. “Just going down to the pub, love,” he’d said.

He’s pretending that he was meeting up with his mates, but I know differently. He is meeting up with HER.

Our relationship has always been built on secrets. His revolve around his inability to be faithful, while mine hide a secret past. He has no idea of my theatrical background, my gymnastic skills and my ability to play the fool. I will know him, but he won’t have a chance of recognizing me.

It’s always struck me as odd how so many murderers try to keep themselves hidden. Me, I’m going along with the idea that people see what they expect to see; the last thing they will think of is that the harlequin is a cold-blooded killer.

There’s quite a crowd now, following in my footsteps. And more and more people are gathering to watch my one-woman show. As I get nearer to the pub I increase my prancing and twirling and keep those juggling balls whirling, drawing the eye.

He stands there watching, his arm holding her tight against him. They share a laugh at my expense as I begin to mingle among the spectators. I dip and soar, twining around one person after the other, those balls a blur of color as I keep them in motion.

And then I’m standing there, right next to him, and the timing is crucial now. I can’t afford to mess up the act while I pull the knife from my sleeve, plunge it into his heart. No one notices as he staggers back and by the time she screams I’m already further along the street, dancing along and fighting the tears.

Not one witness will point the finger in my direction, for I was being observed the entire time. I tumble through the air, spinning circles. The balls are now forgotten, let them be souvenirs for I’m whirling with ribbons now.

I’m sorry it had to be this way, but he really should not have tried to make a clown out of a harlequin.

 

 


Submitted: December 06, 2020

© Copyright 2021 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

Serge Wlodarski

Very creative concept. The final sentence is perfect.

Sun, December 6th, 2020 6:13pm

Author
Reply

Thanks so much, Serge!

Mon, December 7th, 2020 11:22am

Mike S.

Another fine 'clowny-not' tale, Hull

Sun, December 6th, 2020 6:51pm

Author
Reply

Haha! Thanks for reading, Mike.

Mon, December 7th, 2020 11:22am

moa rider

I hear the tap of a stick, Mama Hullabaloo. Blimey I think it's Poirot! Usianguke

Sun, December 6th, 2020 8:17pm

Author
Reply

Haha! Thanks, Moa!

Mon, December 7th, 2020 11:20am

Vance Currie

Aha, the art of distraction at work. Good story with a novel concept, Hully.

Sun, December 6th, 2020 9:00pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, Joe!

Mon, December 7th, 2020 11:20am

Mark A George

Murder in plain sight. Nice take on that subject. Enjoyed it.

Sun, December 6th, 2020 9:24pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, Mark.

Mon, December 7th, 2020 11:19am

niah

Yeap couldn't happen to a nicer person lol.

Sun, December 13th, 2020 7:30am

Author
Reply

Haha! Thanks for giving this a read!

Sun, December 13th, 2020 8:29am

Facebook Comments

More Flash Fiction Short Stories

Boosted Content from Other Authors

Short Story / Mystery and Crime

Short Story / Non-Fiction

Book / Non-Fiction

Writing Contest / Flash Fiction