The poor clown.


    Is that what they think of me


    A blind-blathering fool


    Who can no longer take the smallest of walks alone


    Who are they to say what and who I need


    They call for jokes but make me leave if I dare make mention of my own illness


    Regardless of the context


    And worse yet, they have forced a servant to be my own eyes


    I hold no resentment for the poor boy


    He was as forced into this agreement as I was


    He opens the door.


    I have not seen the inside of this room for a great many decades


    Yet I still remember every detail


    From the smallest cracks along the wainscoted walls


    To the beautiful ocean-blue ceiling


    He sits me down.


    Do they think so lowly of me


    To think I can’t apply my own medication


    Curse them


    Curse them all, I say!


    I long for the days of old


    When my sight was still strong


    I miss my blue ceiling


    And its tender reminder of life outside these walls


    I was a man of nobility


    Before I was punished for daring to want more


    Suddenly, a faint voice calls out to me.


    I perk my ears and listen


    Nothing


    I think it strange but pay it no mind


    Until I hear it again


    I ask the boy to my left if he can hear it as well


    But I am left with a swift dismission


    He jokes that I’m growing old


    I stifle a scowl.


    I try to let it go, but it rings out again


    Only louder and much more clear


    An invitation?


    To what I think to myself


    And in answer, I hear them in the back of my mind


    An invitation to join a beautiful choir


    One that will shape the very stone this castle lies on


    Oh god, perhaps I am going mad


    Not mad they say, only ahead of the curve


    I try to silence the voice.


    However, like how snakes throttle their prey


    They maintain their iron grip, unwilling to move


    Get out.


    I can feel them worming through my brain


    Whether physical or purely mental, I do not know


    I scream out loud, get out!


    The boy drops the medicine as he rushes to my side


    Are you okay?


    He asks, his cold hand, sending shivers through my pinstriped vest


    I slap it away.


    Even if I go mad, I shall never take his pity


    His every word is tainted with that needling tone that I despise


    I feel them in my very veins.


    With each passing second, they get closer to the front of my head


    To my old useless eyes


    I feel sick to my stomach


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    A cacophony of string instruments plays.


    Within their songs, they promise me the impossible


    Showing visions of a different world


    One unfathomable to human eyes


    I weep silently.


    Unsure if it’s due to sadness or happiness beyond compare


    A paradise not on this earth but rather within the stars


    Hidden deep into the depths of another plane of existence


    One only accessible through navigating the depths of the mortal coil


    A beautiful, fervent parade dedicated to a glorious lord.


    Oh, blessed be!


    Oh, blessed be!


    We are next in line to take part


    And you have sent your messengers to ask me to join you


    I have never felt so honored


    But I cannot serve you.


    My eyes they are faulty, not fit for your service


    A poison made of plant toxins has been dripped into them


    A singer''s voice cuts through the deepest recesses of my mind.


    I apologize, I do not understand what you’ve said


    Once again the voice speaks, their voice ephemeral yet so soothing


    I understand now.


    I laugh and I laugh as I weep


    The boy again asked me in a shaky voice what was happening


    But I see through their attempt to deride me


    And I let him know as such


    I hear his footsteps while he runs to seek help


    I cannot help but scream and laugh


    I know he won’t make it


    I hear his cough.


    That evolves into gagging on his own blood


    I hear a repulsing noise as something falls to the floor with a squish


    He crashes against the dresser next to the door


    Then the unthinkable happens


    I can see.


    I can see!


    Oh, blessed be this dark night!


    I can''t see colors


    Or rather I only see in shades of white, black, and brilliant crimson


    But it does not matter


    For I can now see more than I ever have before


    I can see sounds!


    I can see smells!


    I could even see your glorious eyes right outside the balcony decorating the crimson sky


    Praise be you beautiful being!


    I look over to my servant


    His organs, bones, and muscles spill out of his mouth


    Emptying his vessel for a most clement lord to make use of


    Once he has finished


    He shall be nothing more than an empty pile of sentient flesh


    Clinging to the plush red carpet


    I chortle to myself


    Then I hear it.


    A song so beautiful I can not contain myself


    I pirouette toward the balcony


    My heart filled with gratitude


    I see them.


    Your cloaked messengers draped in the flesh of lesser beings


    Adorned with your most spectacular symbol


    Carved into their mouthless faces


    Pleochroic jewels where their eyes once laid


    Inhumanly tall, they raise their arms of bone and point toward the balcony doors


    I understand what I must do.


    I throw myself through the balcony in a state of euphoric mania


    The glass shatters, cutting through my loathed pinstriped vest


    I cannot help but cry as I yell out to the sky


    Not in grief but rather as a way to announce my coming


    I will join you soon in your parade


    Away from this disgusting castle cell


    Away from these fools who stifled me for oh-so-long


    Away from that blue ceiling that was painted to keep chained


    All the way to your much more liberating sea of eyes


    I stumble my way through the balcony


    Unable to keep still from sheer elation


    I push myself up onto the stone railing.


    I stand here, alone physically but surrounded in spirit


    Your cloaked choir does not sing.


    They line up behind me, watching my every move


    It does not matter


    For once, I begin to sing, they follow along with their hymns


    Together we produce a grandiose song dedicated to you and you alone


    With a voice that is not my own


    I take the lead


    It’s sweet and loud


    It’s low and deep


    It''s pure perfection!


    I thank you.


    As I come to my final lyric, I have the best view of the city


    For I can see it all now


    The pointed tips of manors and chapels down to rundown streets


    Where men, women, and children take their roles in your parade


    Skin becomes bone, bone becomes muscle and muscle becomes lumps of skin


    I swear to sing your hymns for as long as this parade ventures forth


    I look into your million eyes in the sky


    And with a bow, I fall off the railing


    Laughing as I do in combination with their song


    Which has now reached a fever pitch


    A crescendo of song builds the lower I go!


    It dwarfs every other noise in its vicinity!


    Until the church bell rings with a brass cling.


    A dark omen as another body crashes to the cold ground on this dreadful night.