7 Different characters, so distinctive yet so similar. so resilient, so broken, suffering in the hands of writer.
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In which every character fights against the written fate, the writer itself, challenging the god of their world.
I know our en...
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"Since the audience is already here, there is no reason to disappoint them." His voice glided in the air like an electric current buzzing through the wire, like honey gliding on the skin, so sweet yet carrying so much feistiness along it.
He smirked, a devilish smile covering his angelic features. The channel charms on his silver glitterly ankle boots jiggled as he walked, his boots clanking on the wooden floor as he moved further towards the audience, watching them discreetly through the tinted dark red curtain.
The curtain, red and bloody, mercilessly separating the art from the artist, snatching humanity and leaving the sire standing all alone on the pedestal, naked and vulnerable in front of the world to gawk at, to judge, to shed the art into pieces, so heartlessly.
With a satisfied smile on his face, he turned around facing the stage closely, extending his both hands in a dramatic manner, as if he was happy with what he saw, as if he achieved everything achievable to mankind, as if the art may have killed him but gave him more of the life.
The pearls of his white shirt also seemed to get the excitement of the owner, they danced under the dull lightning of the stage in a captivating manner. A white haze radiating from his body formed an angelic halo around him. The shimmery outfit suits him more than anything, he was born performer, he was born for stage, born to perform.
Slowly humming the tunes that he had been listening since he was a child, since eternity, he again started to speak again, a dominance in his voice was there even between his feminine feature it shines unimaginably, that captives everyone's attention, or maybe that what happens when the stage feels home, it reflects in artist itself making the crafter the craft.
" This world......It is going to see itself~.." he looked towards the stage, "Absurd and helpless~......." a hint of anger and resentment could be heard in his mocking voice".. will witness~" he sings.
"Fall of the writer." As if he had said something so extraordinary, he gasped putting his hands on his mouth, dramatically giggling as he smiled uncontrollably.
"Only the characters of this story will lead......The winner will come to claim victory once again." A pleasant smile settled across his face, reflecting something maybe the thrill for the fight? the joy that they are raising their voices against the absurdity? the pain that they had betrayed by the one they trust the most? The resentment? The anger?
"This.....This isn't just a story of a character who loves the writer." A serious expression on his face, "no no it's quite opposite." he explained the world his masterpiece, so precisely.
"In this story, the curtain call will come, calling out for God." he briefly explained, as if he was explaining it to a child who has never known the idea of imagination, who had never known the absurdity of it.
"In this story, justice will be served, first time in the favour of devotees of god. "
"Don't worry, if you are worrying about your act ... .that how would you make thousands of people believe in this forgery then remember a good artist isn't the one who performed his art better but it is the one who deceives the people into thinking that he performs it better."
His hands glide through the air in circular motion, a hazy dull enveloping around him, "and besides if you don't know what to say, then just lie." he advises, giving out the experience he learnt through the hard way as if it was nothing for him.
He hums in his soft voice, random albies of words, sounding so heavenly, if a mere character can sing this much better than wonder how the creator itself will sound.
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"The ending in which the villain looks up with a sinister smile." He smiles telling them it's about time, the wheel rotates. It is about time that the villain wins.
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"The ending in which the hero tragically cries.'' He put up a sad face, a crying face, a face that shows the purpose of life isn't to benefit him or anyone, it's to toy and break every one. That the time they lose to the world isn't because life has a purpose, it's because life is cruel to all, it likes to pick up on each and every one for no reason.
"Let's put up our best show." he push himself towards the air, now standing in middle of the stage, the red curtain slowly lifts up leaving him with an audience and he took a breath, trying to make exhaustion in himself go away as his master's voice rang in his head,
"Your show must go on."
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