I killed him. I think you should know. My knife was Excalibur and his gut was a scabbard. The knife wanted a home, who am i to ignore it? A monster? Of course not! However it wasn’t as simple as that, ’twas not an act of mere ire. Much is involved in this drama, myself and him merely held centre stage. And quite a show it was! Much of the script was followed as i intended and the blood effects were highly convincing. Above all, as many plays intend, i enjoyed myself. The same cannot be said for him, dare i mention. I do trust that you wish to know the story yes? In that case, i predict an introduction is in order.
You can call me the Harlequin. In fact, call me Harley. Such a name is uncommon, i daresay. However i do not call myself as such just to be different. No, the name stems from a love of the professions of the vivacious; the carnivals and the jesters, the clowns and the puppeteers. My adoration of these heroes has accompanied me through the several decades of my life. Their exploits have lended their entertainment to my mind during these seemingly long years. I am a Harlequin, i reside in the realms of the audiences mind. Rarely understood yet also rarely forgotten. However i am a little voice, my opinions rarely heard. Many call me shy and quiet but these many are ignorant to the true Harley that resides in his own little world, doing and saying as he wishes.
In the terms of the ‘normal’ folk, i reside in the great city of Ebonton. Under the eyes of my dear brother Nick. Much to my own credit, i left the dreadful home of my mother, when she had parted ways with her husband, my father. I do not regret my actions, gaining by various means as much money as possible and traveling to Ebonton to stay with my brother who had moved there several years prior. I have lived here with him for just over a year, a time i have adored thus far.
The day i traveled here, thankfully i saw two magpies.
My brother is a great man, twenty years my elder. Yet another actor in this grand tale. He is a bald, muscly monster of a man with a certain love of modern heavy metal music. I certainly can’t fault him for that. He, like myself, also has a great adoration for the energetic dancer that is fire. Yes fire, that most terrific of mans creations! Also the most vengeful to the touch. Revenge, ’tis a sweet thing. I’ve tasted it a number of times and yet i cannot get enough of it. My dearly departed enemy suffered from my acts of vengeance. Sweet, sugary acts i couldn’t possibly regret.
How do you say it these days? It was a case of ‘he had it coming’. He crossed me and paid for it. A very heavy price indeed. The knife was the paymaster. But i cannot merely throw all of this at you without some form of explanation.
A story, i say! Like the bards of old, i will tell the tale. The previously mentioned drama.
The setting is my very own home city. Among the countless houses our story, my story, begins…
WorldofHarley 