All the colours were wearing off slowly. Inanimate, it lingered – watching. Suddenly, the entity was falling down into an abyss. The entire moment was timeless.

As it reached a seemingly surface, it had found nothing before. As it went through nothingness, it had sensed as though it were coming into a dimension.

The entity had paced along as if were seeking an opening, indeed, the end of this sort of tunnel – if it was so. Nonetheless, all still obscure.

As a sense of entrapment came over it, an unexpected scene in black and white appeared before it. Some minutes later, colour was poured down over the representation of countryside. Above, an imperceptible blue; at the bottom, the trees tinted in a pure green; and, at the front, a faded-yellow crops. The colour was turning into a bright green through the field.

As the entity pursued the course of the mirror-like waters of a small creek - which was edged by the greenness, on a turn, a figure -in a black and white stretch body suit with black and white striped nylon socks- leapt out of nothing.

It had flinched and looked the personage up and down. His costume was so colourful - with two red pom poms in front and red ruffled collar and cuffs.

“Who are you?” The entity asked, in surprise.

“A harlequin.”

“A harlequin?!” It repeated, confused. ‘What are you doing here?'

“What am I?”

It nodded.

The figure, almost with effeminate gestures, replied.

“It is carnival. We are in Venice,” and he added. “And you asked me what I am doing here!”

It had turned around and saw elements of countryside. There was no any evidence that either it could be or have been Venice.

“I don't think so.”

The entity watched the red ruffled peplum fluttering as the figure flickered showing around.

“You don't see the monumental Piazza San Marco? Don't see the crowd in jubilance? It can't be… You don't hear the colossal style?”

It was befuddled and didn't know what to utter. At last, it had said something.

“Certainly not.”

“Perhaps, you don't see it because you don't want it. There is no such a blind that who doesn't want to see.”

“Or, perhaps, you see that we are in Venice because you desire it. Although it is not so,” added the entity.

“No… It is not like that. Certainly, you cannot see anything that I have said to you because you haven't looked through my mirror,” told the harlequin.

He had pulled out a hand mirror and handed it over to the entity.

“Look your own future in my mirror.”

Having it in hand, this went to see through, but it could not. There was no glass. Noticing it, the entity had looked into the figure's masked eyes, just to make him aware of that it was impossible.

The harlequin had sensed its discontentment, so he explained.

“Your problem is that you don't want to see what you desire. What you see is just a plain reality.”

After those words, the entity had carried on making its way nowhere, so it began to walk away.

As it was leaving behind the harlequin, this cried out, “you are not going to be much happier if you just see bare facts only, and not spice up your own life with all those things for which you die, even though you don't have them neither don't they exist.”

Raising the hand mirror until the height of his eyes, the figure said in excitement, “I see a bedazzling future for me. I have got everything that I hanker for. A splendorous existence. I am so happy!”

The course of the creek had led it through the open field, as the entity advanced in the scenery this turned rich in colour. It was so comely to watch the landscape. Although delighted with such a marvel, the entity had sensed that there was something missing inside it. But all it was so rare. The entity could no express in words the emptiness that felt. And it was so deep that beauty of the landscape could not satisfy its senses.

So, with a hole inside – which was like a burden, the entity went through the way. Almost lost - with no direction, the entity went down a slope until it had noticed – in the middle of the steepness – a cottage, which was not completely seen by foliage.

At the flank of the hill, the entity had bordered it seeking the entrance of the cottage, until it had reached a little path that led to the front door.

It was a typical countryside construction, a stone one. The entity's attention was drawn by the hue of the butterfly bush - at the end of the small way. It had left behind the ash flowers and pots on each side of the entry, and went through the door – which was almost beneath the window.

“We are a kind of limbo!” An entity cried out.

It was shocked. The entity did not expect to find others, which it had identified them by their occupations.

The entity that was a banker, asked. “How?”

“Certainly, how?” Said the entity that had been a politician.

“In your theory, was there no a heaven, and indeed, a hell?”

The alter ego that was crying out firstly, demanded, “so?”

“So… We're between heaven and hell. All trapped,” answered the entity that represented a prostitute.

“Oh! We have a new client here,” announced the banker, delighted.

“Dear, I am so sorry to let you know that you are not at your bank waiting for the naive to suck out his blood,” said the politician.

“Look who's talking? Neither are you in a meeting to fool around anyone with your false promises, just to have votes,” told the banker.

The entity had taken a glimpse around, and had noticed that there was nothing. So if all alter egos were in a limbo, they were not in hell neither out of it. Suddenly, a shout made it aware of its reality.

“Boy, don't make a fuss over the emptiness of the place. We don't take possessions with us at our death hour. Come on, and join us at the circle,” said the priest.

“I'm afraid that I'm not in somewhere else place. If not, I'd have taken you as a client,” told the prostitute, tiding her can-can dress.

Unexpectedly, the newcomer entity became aware of its own nature. A particular alter ego. An existence characterized by questions and explanations, rather curiosity. He was a writer. So, he embarked on any experience that granted wisdom and quenched his thirst of knowledge.

“So you are here to analyse us? I never understood you artists. How can a man waste his life in something useless, and the majority of times, unprofitable as Art”?

“Don't care about banker. Here as the rest of us. No doubts, he found himself in the countryside - all lost. And, out of blue, he bumped into a clown, who jumped out of nothing, then he ran away from the lunatic, and gets here,” said the scarlet woman.

“Surely, this showed him a mirror that conveyed a wonderful future. At least, for the harlequin.” The politician laughed. “The mirror was similar to my speeches. Both attempt to show you the seven wonders. In a way, the harlequin and I are alike.”

“He saw marvellous things nowhere, because people live deceiving themselves. And, how they like it! When all we need is love,” explained the father.

As fondled his swollen belly, the financer asked, “What is love?”

“What you fell for money,” said the prostitute.

The politico answered to her, “what your men look for.”

“The reason for which my clients come to my bank is for money, supposedly it would grant them happiness. What they ignore is that they leave my bank with my thing not with theirs.”

“Man search for happiness in wrong places. He does not respect the Lord's commandments that are the only way to rejoicing and peace.”

“Because man is after those things – and one of them is pleasure - in which he believes that happiness comes through,” said the white slave woman.

“And happiness is in those small things. I could have noticed when I was at an orphanage bringing joy to those children. I enjoyed seeing them laughing, running and playing with those toys that I gave to them. They were so delighted! And all the charity for an electoral campaign.”

“I feel the same when I lend money to a businessman for his investment,” told the banker.

And laughter burst out, and it went around the circle.

“And you really felt it. You had changed love for art,” said the priest to the writer. “Joy for you was art. And this fulfilled your soul, and it defined your existence. Perhaps, you came into the world with the aim of remembering us what was or not worth.”

“Certainly, when I created, my mind, heart and body became one, and all me was in creation. It was more satisfying than sex.”

“Boy, sex is not love,” interrupted the scarlet woman.

“Or any possession in the world,” he said lastly.

The banker announced, “money is everything.”

“It is a curse,” told the churchman, all red faced.

“ Ha! Look who's talking?!”

“Why?”

“One of the major banks in the world belongs to the Vatican,” answered the financer. “You under a black robe try to have everybody under your control.”

“I thought that we politicians only wanted it,” he said, scratching his bold head.

“The election of some is to thwart institution's aims, or their primary aims,” said the priest.

Certainly, those entities as his did nothing in life – neither for good or evil. Among them was an outcast; analysed the writer. And, standing before the burning-log stove in the massive inglenook fireplace, upset by a wasp – which had stung the others, he told, “even us, we look for exercising influence through our work.”

“Nothing compare with us,” said the prostitute.

“What?” Asked the banker.

“Boy, don't be sorry for the love that you left. She wasn't meant for you. You'd hate her in the long. She was so ignorant,” told the scarlet woman, who read the writer's heart.

“Sometimes is a blessing of the Lord what we don't get,” announced the churchman. “However, she would have loved you endlessly. Those who are unlearned know love. And in their case, this has not been spoiled by wisdom and materialism.”

“What did you mean with: ‘nothing compare with us'?” demanded the financer.

“She meant that all power is in a woman,” said the politician.

“What?!” retorted the banker, surprised.

“For a woman, empires have been lost, man has betrayed his neighbour, families have come apart, and brother has killed his brother. Her power is extremely incontrollable if she is aware of it,” explained the politico.

“But everybody as the harlequin deceives himself,” said the scarlet woman. “You banker think that you help people by lending money. In fact, you ripe away people's future with your reward. You politician believes that you are essential to make a better society, and of course, a better world. When you just manipulate your voters to get power. You writer has got a curious theory that through your writings will help man aware of the real treasure of life. And what you want is to have fame and fortune, as the rest of the others: power. And lastly, you priest think that you save souls telling us what to do and being against what we get when you can't.”

And all of them asked her aloud, “and you?”

“Some clients come for lust, others for love. But I give them a service. A social one. I refrain man from doing wrong things. At least, the loner,” answered she.

“I just lead man to the Lord, who grants us salvation. It is up to man whether he chooses or not the path,” told the clergyman.

“There is no heaven neither hell out of us,” commented the writer. “We are part of a god.”

“If so, we don't need anybody to lead us to that supposed heaven,” reasoned the politician.

“There is just one Lord. And by His commandments man gets eternal life,” said the priest lastly.

All of a sudden, the colours washed out. The scenario turned blurred, and the entity began leaving the other alter egos. It was cast into an obscure passage, and when it broke through the other side, emptiness was so huge.

I am a thirty-seven year-old writer, who lives in South America for the time being. I have a degree in Economics, and in order to study distinct economic and social systems I have lived in several countries. I have been writing since quite young, and I have posted some of my works in some electronic magazines, and different people - around the world – have read them.