Clown Land

Rustic Fool

1922 London, 

Rain was drizzling, hitting the cobbled stone pavements of the isolated street. The darkness was met by dim street lamps that shone amber ripples on the canal, light footsteps wet from the drizzle was the only sound that night; for the wind was still and the night was silent. 

The figure sporting the footsteps was stocky, his dark hooded cloak hid his identity all too well. Following the pavement beside the canal, the stranger made his way deeper into the dark streets of London. 

At half past eight, the stranger made his way to an old ragged alley way; the alley was narrow and dark, stone steps lead down to a large wooden door. He knocked once, immediately a slot on the door was removed. Two large eyes peaked through, his voice was squeaky and chilling

'And you are?' he asked. The stranger sighed 'Rustic Fool.' he replied with annoyance in his voice, 'Indeed you are! Walt.' he squeaked opening the door. 

'I wish you wouldn't do that, Lee.' said Walter throwing his cloak to the slim man dressed in his yellow suit. The cloak room was small and plain with only coat racks and a desk, resting on the desk was a single piece of paper with a list of surnames.

Leland was tall, with sandy brown hair and grey eyes; now and then wearing a masquerade mask. 

'Why are you working the door?' Walter asked, Leland smirked 'C demanded a break to have a drink.' 

'He did? And you let him?' there was concern in Walter's voice. Leland lean't on the desk, arms folded 'I broke his nose. I told him to clean the blood, grab a drink and never ask again.' he chuckled.

'And you're late, the boys have been waiting with new blood.' 

'I told them I'll be here after eight. It's after eight.' Walter's tone was cold. Leland gave out a high pitched laugh, that of a mad man and pointed toward the door next to him.

'Get in there before you make me miserable too.' he shrieked wiping tears from his eyes, Walter walked through the door marked with red cursive, that read: The Harlequin Club.