Same show every night, always a full house. Everyone loves a clown. Front row gets a kick out of card tricks, but the voices in the back are here for the real magic. The men near the exit are regulars; one of them might be his father.
“For my next trick…” Center stage, he unpacks a rose, kerchief, and .38 special from the trunk, sweating under the light. The kerchief transforms into a dove and the flower flies to a woman in row 7. The pistol goes in his mouth.
Everyone loves a clown. Especially when he pulls the trigger.
WRITTEN FOR NYC MIDNIGHT’S 100-WORD MICROFICTION CHALLENGE, 2nd ROUND.
GENRE – OPEN
PROMPT – UNPACKING A SUITCASE
WORD – LIGHT
Stafford Morgan 