Silverflint drabble of the week, 05/11/18: Revolution, mask, dance.
“Who’s beneath that mask?” Flint said, peering into Silver’s eyes.
“No-one,” Silver replied too quickly, before adding, “What mask?”
Flint smiled softly. “That mask. I don’t think you can be no-one. I dance the revolutionary’s dance, but every fire I’ve set was sparked by those few remarkable people whose lives crossed paths with mine. Thomas. Miranda. You. So you can’t be no-one, because you’re someone to me.”
“And of course the world revolves around you,” said Silver. “Your egomania knows no bounds.”
Flint laughed.
“Someone and no-one then,” Silver conceded. “Like occupying two points in space at the same time.”
Silverflint drabble of the week (05/11/18 – revolution/ mask/ dance)
The dead man’s feet are dancing wildly in the wind. As is the sign REBEL on a cord around his neck.
The two old men look at each other. Each knows that the other is thinking of when, many years ago, the sign on the chest of a hanged man said PIRATE.
Silver’s shoulder brushes Flint’s. “One day there will be a successful war against England. A revolution.”
Flint’s face is an impassive mask. “Maybe.” He heaves a long sigh. “Neither of us will be around to see it.” He lays a weary hand on Silver’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”
Who would lead, who would follow, who would start the revolution, who would end it.
Now the mask was slipping off both of them. Silver could see Flint for who he really was. Not some terrifying pirate but an angry, heartbroken, grieving man who just wanted to be reunited with his lost love.
He lifted the gun and could see when Flint saw him, saw the surprise, the fear and then the heartbreak at the betrayal.
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