The Drowned Colours
By Kambis Riazy (Apeiron Kambyses)
It was the last night of his performance. Just minutes before the start of the final show, a heavy rain had changed the entire image of the city. He could hear the cheer of the audience from the distance. It was only a matter of few more minutes and he had to go through his old routine again; but the magic of being on stage was gone long time ago and he didn't experience any sensation or excitement, as he used to. He stared at the mirror, as if trying to recognize the exhausted face that was buried under the heavy makeup. The joyful facade was perfect and ready to create some bursts of laughter. But his glance went deeper than all the colourful layers of his mask and see a different side of the showman. Just a few more minutes and his assistant would enter hastily the room and direct him to the darkened stage, a few more minutes and the waiting was over. He still could hear the rain droplets that created the knocking sounds of thousands of impatient fingers on his window. His quest was about to find a rest. Suddenly the noise of somebody's unconsidered steps through the mud outside, forced him to return to reality. It must have been the assistant, he thought and sipped some water from the glass that was placed in front of the mirror. He closed his eyes and expected the opening of the door in any moment. The steps seemed to become slower and more in tact with the rain. Soon the raindrops would swallow any other sign of life; the hasty steps and the passionate roars of the crowd, all disappeared in one glimpse. It was all the rain. At this moment he opened his eyes again. The old man in the mirror was still there and patiently looking back at him with his demanding eyes. A final decision had to come soon. He seemed to be mesmerized by the impressive sounds of the almighty rain; he stood up and with a sudden and uncoordinated heap he approached his door. As he was about two steps away from his cabin, he heard the voice of his assistant that claimed to have searched everywhere for him. These words were very familiar to his ears, although he wasn't able to detect any passion or vividness in the sentence. He then stood still and slowly turned around. The rain started to wash some of his makeup away; his hair became soft again and covered part of his forehead. He collected his breath and then with a rough voice he said: " This clown is finally dead!"
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