The Jester

Jonathan Hembrook ran down the cobblestone streets of nineteenth century London. It was extremely late. The only people who were still up were in pubs or night clubs. There was no one who could help him. 1

He paused in an alley way to catch his breath. That thing, that monster had been chasing him for at least an hour now. "Run, run as fast as you can, I'll catch you 'cause I'm the Gingerbread Man," an insane voice cackled nearby. 2

Mr. Hembrook ran out of the alley, before it could find him. It wanted to kill him, he was sure. But why, not so quite. Sure Hembrook was not the kindest man on the planet. But then, who was really? He wasn't the worst either, though. He lied and cheated like most other men. Fought and pushed his way to where he was in life. He may have crushed a few people in the process, but what successful man didn't? 3

To escape the madman on his tail, he ran into another alley. It was a dead end! Behind him, he could hear his pursuer. Throwing down his top hat, cane, and coat, Hembrook ascended the wall. As he dropped to the other side, he heard the insane man enter the alley. 4

"What's this?" his chaser said. "You may have gotten rid of your coat, but I'll still find you Little Redcap." 5

Hembrook ran as far from the alley as his legs would allow. His air depleted once again and as he paused in another alley, he grew aware that he could very well die that night. And he had never told Violet that he loved her! Wanted to marry her and have children. 6

Caught up in the sorrow of it all, he did not see the madman step into the passage. The man was thin and feminine. Not the usual picture of an assassin. His face youthful and painted chalk white. Red lipstick covered his lips and blue triangles and dots decorated his evil eyes in a clownish way. The outfit the man wore was a white and red jesters costume. Though unlike the playful creatures he dressed as the madman carried a long, silver scythe. 7

"Fee, figh, foh, fum," the jester said stepping closer. "I smell the blood of an Englishman." 8

"Please?" said Hembrook. There was still so much left that he wanted to do. 9

"Please?" repeated the jester. "You have to be more specific, you know, else no one shall know what you're talking about. But I guess a manners lesson won't be much use to you now." 10

The jester swung his scythe down on Hembrook. His head was severed in a second. Deed done, the jester stepped forward and picked the head off the cobble stones. Hembrook's blood seeped into the cracks between the stones and ran down, into the street. He looked at the shocked face for a second. Hembrook couldn't have been more than thirty-five. 11

"Don't look so upset," he told the head. "It had to be done. Think of it this way, the Marquis of Carabas will be very pleased. I have destroyed the ogre." The jester placed the man's head in a cloth sack and fled the alley. 12

**** 13

The next day, Hembrook's headless body was found. The police interrogated numerous people that he had known. The killer was never found, but there were reports that carnival music had been heard in the street that night.