What do you call a twilight that grows dark?

The answer is Dusk.

And it is at this time, a grown man was whimpering in fear. His cheeks were wet from salty tears and his knees grew numb from kneeling for who knows how long.

But he dared not move a muscle, not when his life is at stake.

For he already witnessed to an example, demonstrated by the Jolly Harlequin, who used his friend as the material. The result: one severed head frozen in anguish. Eternally.

The atmosphere in the room became cold enough to play tricks on the ear. The captive swore he could hear the scythe in the Harlequin's hand sing on par with a choir, as the blade was honed with nothing but the wielder's fingernail.

Time appeared to sit still for the Captive until the Harlequin broke the silence, resuming the time.

With a soft, polite voice, the Harlequin sought answer for his riddle which goes like this:

I can be strong, I can be bright,

A force of day, a dream of night.

I grow, I learn, I love, I fight,

A soul of fire, a heart of light.

Who am I?

Even the Harlequin wants you to try out as well. Feel free to answer.

Unless…

The Captive managed to mumble a word out- Girl. That was his answer.

Hearing it made the Harlequin sigh deeply. He placed the scythe aside. The Captive saved himself.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Relief caressed his cheeks like a lover and his confidence returned at a snail's pace.

The Harlequin then started idle gossip with the Captive. His meagre confidence spurred him to boast about his status as an aristocrat- the son of a Baron. He vowed to repay the Harlequin with wealth should he spare the Aristocrat.

The Harlequin appeared to be enticed and discussed about a return gift for the fee, to which the Aristocrat refused. His eloquence enhanced his persuasion, but the Harlequin's kindness won over.

The Aristocrat awkwardly asked about the gift. With a smile, the Harlequin simply said the head of the Aristocrat is the best.

The Captive's feeble acting skills was exposed by Fear. Shards of despair carved onto his sanity, bleeding out a river. He simply scurried on all fours and reached out for the doorknob to escape but alas, it was too late.

The Captive's ankle was grabbed, him flung away from the door. His back smashed open the window, forcing him to see the night sky and the Harlequin's red gaze.

Forces of nature simply followed their course, hastening the Captive's fall to his demise.

The loud thud was music to the Harlequin's ears and went to check the carcass which was supposed to be the Aristocrat.

But to his surprise, the Aristocrat's resilience did not kill him outright, but it also prolonged his agony, considering his mangled body was soaking on his own blood.

The Aristocrat was gargling and choking on his blood, attempting to ask the Harlequin's renege of his mercy in exchange for riddle's correct answer. He groaned his insistence on the correct answer, as acknowledged by the Harlequin's disappointed sigh earlier.

But the Jolly one simply clarified that he sighed out of boredom and that the answer was Dawn.

He went on to explain about Dawn, a kind and beautiful woman, praising her for her motherly nature and so do other girls who took care of him when he was nothing but a circus clown.

The Aristocrat's face changed from anguish to sadism when he heard the monologue. He openly berated on the Harlequin's pathetic revenge and demanded gratitude for procuring fine whores from him and his friends.

This price of this insult against the Harlequin's sister figures was the Aristocrat's tongue, snatched away by his scythe.

With tears of blood, the Harlequin calmly demanded the whereabouts of the Aristocrat's friends and accomplices, to which the broken body gargled with insults.

The Harlequin's rage burst forth, feeding it to his scythe. With purpling aura flickering like a flag, the scythe was hoisted high and the blade came down like a guillotine.

Just as the Harlequin was about to pass the vengeful execution, the scene was abruptly interrupted by… a blizzard…?

[To be continued]