Harlequinade
[It was unusually bright- the lurid colors of the car paint and buildings stare back at me. Somehow the shadow was gone- I know not where it went, but everything was bright, bright, and bright. Only the sky which even in the shadow looked bright and acceptable didn’t mock me with its corn blue canvas and soft while feathery dreams forming the arch-way I couldn’t reach]
[The shadow, the darkness was replaced and everything seemed to be painted in decadent shocking yellows and horrible pinks- it was much too bright for my eyes]

-------------------------------------Harlequinade; my mask melts in the
exorcising light-----------------------------------------------

(I heard my voice say: )

I tried to hide. I couldn’t bear those lights, so very bright; I could see the thick layer of plaster on Her face MELT. But it wasn’t like my mask. My mask was colored with dull reds, dark blues and pitch blacks. They grey slits were for my eyes and the dull brown my lips. HER face was melting with a fake yellow, pink, red, crimson painted, dolled up lips…they were like candy, sickeningly sweet and yet so addictive.

(I hears a dim agreement echo in the background: )
SHE was melting like a rainbow, bright colors dripping down her face. When she turned to look at me, smile and try to hold up a conversation, it was like watching a melting rubber mask, with features printed awry—DRIP DRIP!!—moving her lips and averting her eyes. As if she’s afraid to look at me! Afraid to see that I too could see her masque melting, her fake sugary coat giving me a toothache.

(He puts down his cigarette and surveys me intensely, eyes sparkling up like coals)
(I continue: )

It was nauseating. I could see the coats and cloaks of superficiality cover THEM up, in a splendid rainbow, sparkling bright, white white light! White for purity, for flawlessness. But in my life, white doesn’t exist.
(I remove my mask. The lights are dimmed)

The lights had to be dimmed, for I am so afraid that you will look at me, and like a book drink up my every word. I don’t want to lay bare my chest of wonders for you to gape at. But here’s my mask. I give it to you for I feel I can trust you. I can, cant it? Of course I can…

(Echoes: of course I can!)

Don’t look at me that way- yes even I have something I want to conceal but look at my mask, the devils fangs are what made this. Wonderful material is it not? So sturdy. But now I give it to you…how different am I from her? Yes, I too am melting but it depends on the colors you paint your world with. Pastels don’t exist, not necessarily unless you want them to. But I dare not, no I don’t give a jot for reality either. But then…what am I? )
(Introspective)
What am I?
(My voice grows faint)
SHE is painted differently, but this light…does she fear light as much as I do? Is that why she hides and makes herself so agreeable just so that she is liked and accepted?
But even I wear a mask, my dull mask but I don’t want those ugly pseudo faces. I want to keep myself hidden…but why am I telling you this?

(I grab my mask. The lights flicker and I catch a look of horror as you look at my face, my REAL face)
Go away! Who are you?

(Echoes: who are you?)
(I look closer at the person seated in front of me, shock mirrored on his face…but he escapes like an illusion…he melts into the air leaving behind a trail of faery dust…just melts!)
Are you even there? Were you listening to my harlequinade?

[The stage is empty and the lights slowly dim into that decaying ardor she viewed the world in previously. It was faint light and dim shadows that cloaked her once more...she cries:]

To my harlequinade!