Writing Ever Sinful -or- A Harlequin Romance [PG-V]

[kalon]

This was written for a short story challenge for my school literary magazine.

I had to pick things from an idea sheet another member had filled out, which included characters, time/place, situation, and mysterious element. I chose a defrocked priest, four o'clock in the morning, shopping for the perfect birdcage, and a clown jumps into the street and tweets.

This is what arose, this pure weirdness with a vague connection to my Ever Unmistakable story. It was written in a sort of stream of consciousness way, and has had no revisions made to it whatsoever. Any comments would be unbelievably apreciated.


[center]Ever Sinful
or
A Harlequin Romance[/center]

In the distance, the clock tower in the city square rang out four times. The sky glowed brilliant blue in the predawn light, and the morning air was cool on Asher?s skin. It was slightly insane, his errand, but since three years ago, everything in his life was insane. At present, he tried to ignore the crimes of the past, and focused on his expedition. He was out to buy a birdcage.

Admittedly, it was not normal to be out before dawn in search of a bird cage, especially when one did not even own a bird. This errand had been a request from Asher?s creation, his devil false-child, his sin.

Asher had committed crimes against God, the God he loved, the God he hoped might spare him some small mercy on Judgment Day. Asher?s sin was?. He supposed it started with the man called Alistair, the snake who tempted Eve in the Garden, the wolf that shall destroy the people of Jerusalem. With his silver tongue, Alistair had spun lies as shining as diamond about his experiments. He promised that they would lead to the eradication of disease, and they would create creatures in the likeness of the healing angel Raphael, and plagues would be a thing of the past.

Asher knew that Lucifer himself was a creature of brilliance, and that devils wore false faces. He had only himself to blame for walking the path of sin. He had only himself to blame for losing his status in the priesthood. In truth, he deserved far worse, because his hands were now stained with the blood of the innocent lambs and peaceful doves of God.

Even now, he was on an errand for a devil. His devil. The one he had helped Alistair create through dark magic and twisted alchemy and wicked science. This devil, however, had not chosen to act against Heaven. He had been ?born? soulless, as far as Asher knew. If one lacked a soul, there could be no redemption. This lost beast had no way to end his suffering except by taking his ?life? and ending his existence.

Even if no bauble could make up for making a child into sin, if the creature wanted a birdcage, then Asher would find him the perfect one.

Over blocks and streets and back alleyways Asher walked, his steps hollow in the mostly empty city. He finally arrived at his destination: an antiques shop partly hidden between a bakery and a wig store. The small, out-of-the-way shop kept hours as odd as its items. The light inside signified it was open.

Asher stood there a moment, staring at the item on display in the window. Its open hours were not the only reason he chose the shop. For some logic-defying reason, it always had whatever item he needed to buy. There in the window was a wrought silver birdcage, its ornamentation crafted with a light and masterful hand, is gilt designs glinting in the low light. It was perfect.

A minute later, the cage was bought, and Asher was carrying it in hand back the way he came. As he entered a shortcut between two close rows of brick houses, he was met with something donned in a tight, colorful costume of red, blue, and green lozenges. The person landed on his haunches and tilted his head to one side. The upper half of the jester?s face was covered by a black leather mask, but his mouth was clearly seen. This newcomer gave a leering smile.

He whistled.

He trilled like a mocking bird. He hooted like an owl. He cawed like a crow. He backflipped to Asher?s side and peered at him from over the birdcage.
?Why are you out, Harlequin?? Asher asked.

?Well, Father,? drawled the clown, showing his white teeth in a vicious smile, ?I wanted to check on how you were doing. You found me the birdcage, I see. That is so good of you. I so dearly wanted to give it to my little dove.?

Asher steadied his hands as he looked down at the colorfully costumed? man? clown? devil? He never fully knew what Harlequin was in the first place, and he certainly did not know now. The clown was certainly not human, but not fully monster. He was, simply put, an experiment. To Asher, he was also an abomination and sin. He did not understand everything about Harlequin?s creation even if he had helped.

?Father, do you know what you are going to do tomorrow?? asked Harlequin. It sounded like a child?s question, but there lay an old malevolence behind it.

?I? you know what I?m going to,? breathed Asher. ?I?m going to keep sinning, and killing, and using people as experiments to make a creature better than you. One that can use the powers of healing for other people and not just himself. One that will be a lamb of God. We shall always try to create a true Raphael, an angel of healing, even if we have to stain our hands in blood to do it.? Tears clawed from behind Asher?s eyes. He would perform more sacrifices tomorrow, kill more people, all in hopes that he could create something useful, something healing, something more than sin. He continued, ?My false child, you are a mistake I cannot fix, but I can make others better.?

The clown laughed at the former priest?s words. Harlequin took the birdcage from his shaking hands. From a belt at his side, Harlequin grabbed his short metal club. The sickening sound of a skull cracking echoed throughout the city. The former clergyman crumpled to the ground like a broken mannequin. Harlequin rubbed a bit of blood off his cheek with his thumb.

The clown whistled a cheery, birdlike tune as he walked away into the shadows. Asher had not really bothered him. In fact, if it weren?t for the scheduling, Harlequin would very well have killed someone else.

Asher was supposed to perform a sacrifice that morning. The next victim to the dark arts was a simple maiden captured from a local village. The problem was, she had also captured Harlequin?s heart. Harlequin laughed to the shadows as he went to give the lovely birdcage to his captured little dove. If Asher was dead, Harlequin?s beloved little dove gained another day to live. Even abominations desire to keep their precious things alive.

[Allamorph]

[FONT=Arial]Have I ever mentioned that I [I]do[/I] so enjoy reading your work?

Great stuff. It feels very Hitchcock, with just a touch of Poe. Interesting, too, that your character recognized the extent of his sin and yet was unwilling to abandon it.

The only thing that bothered me was your ellipses. (By the way, I cannot determine what the devil the plural of that word is.) In most cases, you attached it to the preceding word and detached it from the word following. Choose one or the other each time you use it, not both. Both is reserved for the end of sentences, which brings me to the specific incident I wish to mention....
[QUOTE]Asher?s sin was?. He supposed it started with the man called Alistair, the snake who tempted Eve in the Garden, the wolf that shall destroy the people of Jerusalem.[/QUOTE]
From what I can tell, the thought is continuing; Asher (or the narrator) is just attempting to find a way to properly address Asher's sin. I see two things:

[I]Asher's sin was...[COLOR=Red](well,)[/COLOR] he supposed it started....[/I]

or

[I]Asher's sin.... He supposed it started....[/I]

Up to you, but the way you wrote it feels less like Asher is reflecting on his sin and more like he has a short bout of Alzheimer's all of a sudden.

Other than that, I love it. [I]Kudos.[/I][/FONT]

[kalon]

[quote name='Allamorph][FONT=Arial']The only thing that bothered me was your ellipses. (By the way, I cannot determine what the devil the plural of that word is.)[/FONT][/quote]
One (...) is called an ellipsis, or occasionally an ellipse. (I prefer the former, because the latter is also a geometry term which can be confusing.) The plural is ellipses. ;) Oh, but was it just the ellipsis you quoted which bothered you? Or were the second and third bothersome as well?

[quote][font=Arial]Up to you, but the way you wrote it feels less like Asher is reflecting on his sin and more like he has a short bout of Alzheimer's all of a sudden.[/quote][/font]
That comparison makes me giggle uncontrollably (in a very good way, obviously). It's a good suggestion, too.

I'm glad you liked the story. I think my style changes depending upon whi I write for, which is why this is dark. No matter what I do, though, I can never fully remove humor from my writing, hence the incredibly pun-ny secondary title.

I read in a novel once where a character said (and I'm paraphrasing), "Evil people never think of themselves as evil." That irked me so very much. I like to think that some people know they are committing evil acts, but continue to do them anyway because in the end they believe it will achieve something. They don't believe they are good, but they believe the will bring some good into the world at the price of their own sins. That's who Asher is in this story.

You'll see Harlequin in Ever Unmistakable in another post or so. He's probably my favorite character, second only to Dominick. You already know the character Harlequin calls "little dove," by the way. I'll probably write her a short story, too, and post it here.