The Black Fool

“I’m the Black Fool now.”

Pietro Barbino was drunk again, and making japes at his master – but this time his master had nothing to say.

“Black Fool, for I’ve stained my motley garb… with this…”

He stared in wonder as he took his hands away. The blood, clotting, pulled into long, sticky tendrils. It seemed black in the half-light. Pietro leaned closer.

“I can’t hear you, Cosimo,” he growled. “Your mouth is open, but I can’t tell: are you laughing? Are you pleased with your fool?”

The two stared at one another – the dwarf searching his master’s lifeless eyes for any last spark of cruelty, Cosimo glaring back, cold, purple, and stubborn as ever.

“Hmph.”

Pietro stood and listened a moment to the night. He’d thought he’d heard footsteps on the marble in the courtyard, but the villa was asleep; the fountain gurgled, the night birds sang and the poplars rustled, but all else was silent. Pietro sighed.

“You killed papa,” a voice said suddenly.

Pietro turned to find a boy standing in the doorway, barefoot and sleepy-eyed. The moon cast an ethereal light upon his face, so bright that he nearly glowed.

“He was not your father, Giovanni,” Pietro said, but the boy paid him no mind; he was staring at the shadowed figure by the wall, slumped in the wide, shiny pool. He trembled.

“Now, Giovanni,” Pietro said, edging slowly closer. “You wouldn’t shout, would you? You wouldn’t like to frighten anyone. Your papa will be alright…”

Pietro knelt before the boy and stroked his cheek, leaving a slick, gory mark.

“Go now, into the garden,” Pietro said calmly, and suddenly the boy saw him again. There was trust there still.

“Fetch some water and we’ll help him together, you and I,” Pietro said. “He’ll be alright, but you must hurry.”

At last the boy turned and padded off toward the fountain. When he’d gone, Pietro took the knife from the floor and followed, a black sadness clutching at his heart.

This is my response to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge, which was black. As always, the rules are to write a 33 to 333-word story based on the third definition of the week’s word.

Regular readers will recognize Pietro Barbino from my story a few weeks back (my first Trifecta, actually). I decided to bring him back, but obviously things have taken a dark turn for him recently. I guess that’s what happens when Halloween is close by. Here are the rest of the stories in his series:

A Curious Woman // The Root // Pietro Barbino // The Black Fool // Original Sin

I’d love to hear your comments and criticism, so let me know what you think below!