Tempête du Cygne Noir

The wind whipped the layers of storm clouds ever nearer the seashore, and the deadly scene on the sandy beach. The flashes of lightning highlighted the clumps of bodies, heaps of flesh and clothes, lying prone, face down in the sand. Dead bodies vulnerable to the sweeping heavy rain that came closer with every second, and with every gust of wind. The sea was growing, the constant tidal waves inflated in size, as the down drafts of wind pushed the waves higher. One could see the wind pressure from above pressing down, squeezing into the water depths, pushing the waves higher. Within seconds the gathering clouds and heavy rain collapsed onto the naked unprotected expanse of water. The dark storm clouds fell from the sky, pressing down on the seawater with an angry kiss. Visibility disappeared instantly, as the downpour of heavy rain fell like a huge powerful waterfall. Dark black clouds, mixed with dark skies, now mixed with dark angry seas. Occasionally the mischievous wild wind lifted an item of clothing from the inert bodies on the beach, as it tucked at a loose part of their apparel. At the same time gusts of wind carrying heavy buckets of rain dowsed and saturated both prone human bodies.

On closer inspection the oil slick of escaping blood was pumping from the fatal bullet wounds on the sheltered parts of their body and leaked into sand beneath their bodies. The flashes of lightning made the scene more dramatic, theatrical. For a fraction of a second, the lifeless bodies were brilliantly highlighted by the flash of lightning, the scene became a frightening illustration of terror. The vivid crimson red of oozing blood, the dark outlines of the fallen shapes, bodies face down in the sand. With the frantic screaming noise of the wind, the gritty sand whirling in random spirals, all combined to make a chaotic nightmare of a scene. The tempest had taken its victims, the riders of the storm had ridden into the dark evil night with their fresh souls, sadly one of those souls was the brightest stars of cabaret, her name was infamous, the renowned Cygne Noir.

Only moments before she was performing on stage. Only moments before she was conversing with her dear friend and soul-mate Wicked.

“I’m taking Lady for a walk along the beach, before the heavens open up” Ethel said to Wicked, referring to the gathering dark forbidding clouds, black against the dark night sky, and the distant rumbling sounds of thunder with random flashes of lightning unfolding on the horizon.

“Be careful. Do you need some cover; in case you get caught in that incoming storm? Enquired, the ever caring Wicked. He added with a softer tone “You look harassed Ethel, what’s the problem?” Wicked looked deep into the eyes of Ethel.

“These men, it’s getting tedious. Both are too demanding, and the club is wanting more than I can give.”

Wicked knew the situation well, unusually for him, he had no wise positive words to offer or share with Ethel. He listened, and didn’t comment, instead he just petted Lady as she and Ethel passed, heading for the solitude of the beach. The gusts of wind would send the dusty sand into small swirling dervishes. It was the prelude to the incoming wrath of the storm.

As Ethel and Lady strolled along the beach, there was a dark profile of a man standing looking towards them. He stood still and waited for their approach. He waved at them, as they got closer – it was Geoffrey. Lady started growling at the unknown figure in the distance. Ethel recognized the profile of Geoffrey in the dark, but didn’t stop Lady from growling. She wanted to make sure Geoffrey was aware of Lady’s presence, especially with his unexpected appearance there on the beach; Lady was there to protect her.

“Hello, I thought I would take a walk by the sea myself.” Geoffrey said awkwardly.

“I wanted to talk to you without that man, and the eyes of everybody on us. I can sense you are not happy with the nightly invitation either.” Geoffrey continued.

Before Ethel could reply, flashes of gunfire appeared in the darkness from the nearby bushes. Geoffrey and then Ethel collapsed onto the sandy beach. There was a pause. Lady still on the leash turned in the direction of the bushes, she could smell the assailant, and she started to gather herself to attack the person hidden in the bushes. Before she could move one single stride another flash of gunfire took Lady down when the bullet hit her pouncing body. Lady screamed and whimpered as the shock of the bullet stopped her, and she joined Ethel and Geoffrey as prone lifeless bodies on the sand.

The gunshots were heard by Wicked, and he raced towards the beach. He was the first to arrive, standing over the two bodies of the man, Ethel and Lady the dog, he immediately recognized the scene from a pre-cognitive nightmare, a tragic scene of murder and devastation. He stood staring down at the heaps of bodies in the dark, as others from the club alerted by the gunfire ran to the scene of death. The death of Cygne Noir.

Cygne Noir was a famous cabaret singer, famous for her scanty black feather outfits, with her jeweled tiara and black feathered headdress. She wasn’t tall, but her elfin shape, and long slender legs gave her an athletic appearance. When the feathers parted on her bodice, the audience gasped at her shapely legs, they seemed never to end. She always showed a glimpse of her legs enticingly, as slowly each of her uncovered legs was highlighted under the spotlight, exposing a full-length side view of her lithe body. There was no evidence of any knickers, the only modesty was provided by the large black feathers. Nothing was left to the imagination, it was an intentional public showing of intimacy, a side profile of nudity as the feathers parted for a fraction of a second, but the audience’s memory of her erotic female form lived on longer than the night’s entertainment, sometimes never to be forgotten, never; no matter what the age of the male onlooker. All the onlooking female audience gazed on enviously, sometimes touching their male companion as a reminder of their presence.

She captured the minds and hearts of her audience with her shocking flashes of near nudity, as well as her deep grasping rendition of her burlesque type cover versions. It was an intoxicating mix, and her nightly act at the club became famous.

The Capricorn nightclub was her kingdom each night, a nightly sale out, Cygne Noir just packed them in, as they say in the business, to the endless glee of the club owners. People came from far and wide, to hear the unique singing spectacle of Cygne Noir, which left everyone spellbound, captivated, not with just the singing, her elegance of movement, her pose, the way she held her slender long neck, as she belted out her repertoire. The audience held its breath, their eyes glued to her every movement as she glided across the stage, to the rapturous applause, every night the audience wanted more, encore after encore, they refused to leave the nightclub without taking away a piece of her magic, which was the renowned Cygne Noir.

“Write your own contract CN, the crowd love you, we love you, you put the C in Capricorn nightclub, Capricorn and Cygne Noir is like champagne and caviar, the best and most perfect fit in this world!”

Season after season, year after year, Cygne Noir packed them into the Capricorn nightclub. She was fan-worshipped by the rich, the higher class of the nation. This was all the more surprising for Ethel Beaver, a la Cygne Noir, the little girl from the poor part of the city. Coming from a poor neighbourhood, her childhood wasn’t exactly the ideal preparation for a future cabaret star. Being brought up by grandparents in the big city, so that her mother had the time to work, there was no father around to support Ethel or her mother in those early years. The father disappeared before she could recollect any memories and never reappeared. Her mother was the sole breadwinner, taking on any jobs she could find. Ethel was left under the care of the grandparents. She played in the streets most of the time, her slim athletic physique was perfect for street games. She was a typical tomboy running with gangs of children. Ethel was always popular forever playing imaginary games that only street children, with endless time and energy to play until it was time to be called indoors for an evening meal, and bedtime. Her grandfather was injured during the Great War and received a small pension. He could never undertake heavy labour, and spent the days keeping one eye on Ethel, while the grandmother looked after the small apartment. They all slept in one bedroom, and if the grandfather snored too noisily, he was evicted to sleep on the hard floor of the small kitchen. It was the grandfather sitting on the communal street steps humming his songs, playing his mouth organ that inspired in Ethel some early awareness of music. Her grandfather would teach Ethel, and the other children the words to his songs, and they became the neighbourhood street choir.

Her grandfather would often tell Ethel. “You were born for the stage Ethel, you can sing like a songbird, and dance like a peacock!”

The murder of Cygne Noir was a surprising unpredictable event that was beyond reason or understanding. There seemed to be no motive. In reality, Cygne Noir remaining alive had potentially severe consequences, and therefore, it was necessary to cover up the reason for her assassination. For the normal uninformed person in the street, it was headlining news, and the outpouring of grief was unprecedented. The murder would never be solved, there were so many conspiracy theories, which rumbled on forever. In hindsight the unpredictability of the event, the shock to the community would have severe consequences, because it was never truly explained. It created uncertainty and mistrust for the established security of high-profile celebrities. Only Wicked knew the secrets of Ethel Beaver, and her double life, the life she had led, both good and evil, light and darkness, her secret life and her final dramatic death.