Last night's dream...

And the children played merrily in the street, rolling hoops and jousting with brooms, young boys straddling barrels rolled in the dirt, others leapt in the air or played leapfrog with their companions. Death had been defeated. The king smiled and watched with joy from behind the darkened window of his grand town house. No longer was there reason to despair, his people were happy and well once more.

Death and his minions had been driven from the Kingdom. The king was content.

Across the courtyard the sad faced clown gazed emptily down from the window of the stable. On the street below his followers moved slowly through the crowds, the dwarf leading the sickness, the cloth held reverently in his gnarled hands. A yellow napkin covered his misshapen head making him indistinguishable from the children around him. The plagues followed in their disguises of brown, blue, still more blue, they were ready for the game and they knew the game well, they had played it many times before. There was no beating them and they were bound to win.

Death smiled his white and sad faced smile and began to count; he had work ahead of him.

As the cock crowed the king looked down on a street made empty of games and a kingdom made empty of joy, he would play alone, play alone forever.