The Last Mask
The Curtain Raiser
God he hated clowns. And more importantly, he hated being one of them.
The skinny man passing through the night, a lonely soul wrapped in a tatty black coat, hiding the secrets of his colourful life below its dirty shell. He was Patrick the clown, Patrick the fool of this land.
He moved the red nose across his fingers like a magician with a gold coin, passing it over his hand with a rhythmic beat, but his dark eyes were not paying any attention to its passage. The spherical sponge was the only visible remains of his clown's identity, a face he had completely wiped off as he had made his way up the hill. And now he stood on the top of the rise listening to the waves of the Irish Sea beating against the shoreline, but still able to hear the music playing from the circus behind him, the melody that wouldn't let him escape.
All those years and all that talk about him keeping the family tradition going. Well they could go and stick their tradit