Ernest

Once upon a time... in one sad and rainy day, madam Evergloth gave birth to a child, it was called Ernest Evergloth. But this child was an unusual child, it was as sweet as honey and as sad as a widower who lost her most beloved person. He grew up to become a handsome and thiner boy with round glasses. He graduated his self into a very sanctioned university always kipping his feelings to him, because he was a very shy and reserved boy, also. Time went by... with no change in the life of Ernest (it's obvious) since he had no real friends, no girlfriend, not a person to talk to about hearth-to-hearth talks. He didn't need them, he had him self to talk to, he had his own world.
Until... one day, when he was going to his dormitory, for some reason, he stood with his glowing glasses staring at a beautiful girl. He saw how the wonderful colorless eyes shown, as the long gold and lustrous hair danced with the playful wind. Almost momentarily the skinny Ernest felt a pain, a really deep pain. It was coming from the chest. He then started to panic since hi never felted the pain within. But still, he couldn't stop staring the beautiful creature, that blond goddess. He stood there, never to say anything, never to move and never to be noticed.
The blind Ernest stayed that way until it was dark, even after the blond goddess went away.
He was shocked, he was in heaven, he was in hell, he was blind, he was flying,... well... he was in love.
The following day, Ernest, pursue his beloved, not like he cared or he wanted but he needed.
He soon find out that she had a boyfriend... Disaster! Painful falling into the depths...
the pain he had felted the day before was noting compared with the pain he was feeling at the moment. He sustain his breath until he almost fell apart. During that time, he was more sad than his nature, he was so miserable that no one notice his presence. He was so absorbed in his sweet blond goddess that he forget his own existence. One day, by coincidence or merely the merciless fate, his goddess (miraculously) notice him, behind a tree staring at her. She soon went to talk to him. Poor shy Ernest, he wasn't able to say a word since he was so hypnotized by her beauty, although she was sweet as him and understand his feelings so they'd became friends.
Ernest jumped instantaneously from the depths but not to high because he knew she still had a boyfriend.
Time went by, Ernest and his new and only friend strength their relation ship... as friends... only. But something had stood in his way to say or to show his feelings for her. No, it wasn't the boyfriend, it was is shyness. Yes, he was to shy to even show a little feeling. That didn't changed and it wasn't going to change either.

One day, as Ernest was going back into the dormitory, he saw, in the other side of the road, his friend, his blond goddess... crying. Why? How? she was always so happy...
He then understand that the boyfriend was no longer a boyfriend. They'd broken up. That was his chance... wasted it seems, since his shyness. But then the unthinking had happened. She saw Ernest and (maybe it was to cause jealousy on is boyfriend or maybe not) she called for him with opened arms.
This was the moment, this was the climax for the skinny Ernest. It was an explosion inside, an explosion of love, happiness. He dropped his books (who needed them) and went running to her arms full of joy.
Suddenly a truck treaded him under.
So it was the life of Ernest, at least it died happy.

Pierrô

Uma vez… havia um pequeno pierrô, sabem, aqueles tristes palhacinhos, pretos e brancos, com uma lágrima pintada na cara. Aqueles que são sempre vitimas das partidas dos outros palhaços… Bom… o papel deste pierrô não diferia muito da generalidade. Não importa saber qual era o nome ou quem ele era, só interessa o facto de ele ser um pierrô.

Continuando… dia após dia, noite atrás noite, o pequeno pierrô ia para o palco fazer o que sabia como ninguém: choramingar, correr, ser um completo idiota nas monstruosas e cruéis mãos dos risonhos palhaços.

Dia após dia, ouvia o insano público a desfazer-se em risadas enquanto rastejava a suja imagem, a magoada alma, a vergonha da sua presença, com lágrimas reais a caírem-lhe no regaço dos seus inocentes olhos.

Noite após noite, os palhaços inquisidores, puxavam aos limites os seus trágicos e infames papéis.

Ninguém tinha piedade por aquele pobre pierrôzito, ninguém tinha consciência de que aquela coisa preta & branca choramingona fosse, de facto, uma pessoa sensível; ninguém o amava, todos se riam da sua miséria.

Até que, um dia (ou, melhor dizendo) uma noite, quando o tristonho pierrô se preparava para a sua “gloriosa” entrada em cena, susteve-se, observando na segurança das cortinas o público pronto para rebentar em risadas insanas consoante os sorridentes bobos lhe faziam a vida negra.

“Hmm… (pensou para com os seus botões) estou farto de ouvir este estúpido público a guinchar que nem um porcos…” e com o pensamento inacabado precipita-se para fora do circo…

“Nós chamamos então o nosso pequeno e adorável… Palhacinho Tristonho!!!” grita o palhaço mestre.

Mas ninguém aparece. “Palhacinho? Vá lá não sejas tímido. Vem e mostra ao nosso maravilhoso público o teu truque.” Não teve resposta. ”pierrô!!!!!!!!!!!!” desta vez o pequeno pierrô aparece, o mesmo inocente, triste, e miserável palhacinho com a lágrima pintada.

“És capaz de explicar onde raio é que estiveste?” então, com tímidos passos, o pierrô aproxima-se do microfone e com palavras hesitantes diz: “Tenho andado a ensaiar um truque novo.” Momentaneamente, os palhaços atacaram-no com olhares surpreendidos e reprovadores e o palhaço mestre sem saber o que ripostar gaguejou “Hmm… pois… então… meu pequenito poderás mostrar ao nosso público o teu novo truque?”. O pequeno palhacinho vira-se lentamente para o público e pela primeira vez homens, mulheres, crianças, idosos, … todos estavam a vê-lo. Não como um boneco mas sim como um palhaço.

“Nesse caso… vocês têm que formar uma linha”. Obedeceram-lhe com um sorriso sarcástico com se pensassem que aquele inútil não sabia o que fazia. Depois de se distribuírem por uma linha horizontal, o pequeno pierrô vira-se e, enfrentando o olhar intimidador do público, com uma agilidade sobre-humana tira uma arma de fogo das suas calças.

Com uma precisão de génio, dá uma volta de 180º, enfia uma bala de metal no crânio de cada um dos palhaços. Sem pestanejar nem mesmo tempo para pensar.

O tempo era infinito enquanto os palhaços caíam inanimados, o público em desespero e histeria gritava e fugia, o pierrô ria…

Hoje, esse mesmo pierrô está numa cela solitária a sorrir, rir, chorar de alegria, de prazer… quase um prazer insano.