On Silver Wings

Uneasy Homecomings

The grass beneath his feet was wet with the rain which had stopped only an hour ago. It had been a great storm -- thunder and lightning from every direction, the wind threatening to tear the walls of the city down, and crush the people beneath. But it passed, as storms often do. And in Gamewell, within moments of the passing, the jesters were once again performing their tricks and illusions, the people freely walking the cobblestone streets, and merriment was again being spread.
He was not unhappy. In fact, he was as close to happy as he had been for a while. Since arriving in Gamewell, he not only had a profound sense of peace, but he had gotten new clothes, all he could eat, and a comfortable bed. Over the past years, these items always seemed to escape him. Something was nagging him, though. A part of him wanted to flee, to run as fast as he could out of this haven, and never look back. For the most part, he assumed that was the same voice that told him to lie, cheat, steal and kill; and, while he could, he ignored it. For the time being, he was content.
But as he was walking the streets after the storm, the voice was louder then ever. He felt cynical, rebellious, contemptuous, and afraid. He stopped for a moment, watching one of the performers. The jester was amazing a small crowd, consisting mainly of little children, with slight of hand tricks. The Mad One watched the show with a bitter scowl. So bitter was his scowl, that the jester, under the intense scrutiny, almost slipped up. Such was his skill that he covered his mistake so that no one, with one exception, noticed.
As everyone clapped and applauded for the young performer, the Mad One's rage grew stronger. For reasons he could not entirely explain, he hated the jester. As everyone was leaving, he walked up to the performer, stood toe to toe with him, and looked him deep in his eyes. The jester, being young, and new to the ranks, tried to stare him down; but something he saw in the eyes of the Mad One unsettled him and he quickly stepped back. Whether it was from his training as a gentleman, or his sudden fear of the man, he could not tell. But he could not control his rage when the mad man pushed him, and uttered, "Nothing but a two-bit clown."