This story is dedicated to the child that lay deep inside of us all. The spirit of imagination and hope that springs eternal within, flowing throughout our souls, quenching our thirst of making the seemingly impossible come to life. Attached to this youthful zest of innocence lay a darker side, housing our innermost fears and reservations, many of which defy logic and explanation yet continue to persist in this timeless realm. This darker side of the spirit of our inner child lay dormant, as does our sun soaked side of pleasantries, and along with that side, is capable of striking us at any moment.

This tale also presents us with a question: What is scarier than a clown? Along with an accompanying answer: a clown that follows you and will not leave you alone. To those readers with coulrophobia, avert your eyes now, for this is no laughing matter...

Twelve-year old Kurt Thames is the type of kid who is brave and bold and generally fearless for his age. Is there a fear of heights underneath it all? Not a chance, as the daring, adventurous Kurt is an avid tree climber and would eagerly scale a building if the opportunity presented itself. The dark? Not a problem for this kid, who was never one to strive for the warmth and comfort of a night light, not even as a toddler. Young Kurt Thames is so bold he has even partaken in his first date and first kiss—-albeit this consisted of merely walking around a mall.

Like most of us, even those of us who attained the rank of adulthood, Kurt harbors a fear deep down within himself. Despite being one grounded in logic, and realizing it to be juvenile, Kurt possesses an irrational, unexplained hatred and fear of clowns. Just the very thought provides Kurt with a mouth as dry as cotton, a heartbeat heaving inside of his chest, and an armful of shivering goose bumps, even in the summer heat.

     Kurt happens to share a room with his sixteen-year old brother Bryan, a mere four years older but it may as well be fourteen years. The two usually get along well notwithstanding the incidental conflict of brotherhood, but as the two continue growing up, they also happen to be growing in different worlds. The older Bryan embarking into high school, while the younger Kurt putting the capstone touches on his elementary school career.

For the past two years, Bryan has yearned for more space and privacy in the form of his own room, much to the chagrin of his parents, reluctant to abide by his wishes.

This growing desire of Bryan has led to increased conflict and teasing towards his younger brother in an effort to expedite the process, which has sent a wedge between them, sending a rift felt throughout the home.

     Following an exhausting day, Bryan climbs atop the bunk bed to get some rest, only to be bombarded with innate questions from Kurt. The type of question asking that leads to an endless parade of follow up questions, each answer trivial in the grand scheme of things, and in this moment in time, as Bryan buries his head into the pillow in disgust.

     In an effort to dissipate the conversation, and to agitate Kurt after being agitated himself, Bryan begins telling his brother a short story.

“You know what the scariest story I’ve ever heard was? I heard about this at camp one summer. A long time ago, upstate somewhere, there was a traveling circus. There also was a man who was a killer, who butchered seven bodies. He was clearly mentally unstable, but he was also very savvy, and had incredible street smarts. Evading capture, he joined the circus, falsifying his background information, and becoming a...clown.”

     “No way,” replies Kurt.

“There is more,” says Bryan. “Each town the circus had visited would be met with the death of one or more people. Despite getting away with it for several years, eventually he was caught—-red handed, I mean literally, red handed, as the victim’s blood was all over his hands. The clown had no intention of going away to prison, and so he took his own life, by slitting his throat.”

     “What was his name?” asks Kurt.

“Nobody ever knew what his name was, or where he came from. The scariest part of the story is that he went after anybody he could find, and there was no motive for his killing. A true psychopath, he did it for fun. After he died, his ghost began to appear. The clown continues to hunt for victims, and is said to steal the souls of those he kills. They remain under his command, for all time.”

     “Okay, that’s enough. I know that it’s all fake, though,” replies Kurt.

     “If you don’t shut your mouth and go to sleep, I’m going to keep talking about this clown until he’s in your nightmares,” explains Bryan, whose story has succeeded in creeping out his younger brother. Not wishing to speak, Kurt slowly drifts off to sleep, with visions of a sociopath masquerading as a clown dancing in his head.

     Awakening to the sound of a continuous thud, the eyes of the boy open wide. Whatever the sound is, it is coming from the hallway. Creeping down the hallway, he discovers that the sound is coming from the stairs. A small red ball drops down from the ceiling, where it proceeds to roll and bounce down the steps. Another one falls, and then another. There is no indication where they are coming from, as there is a dark spot on the ceiling, hovering above the staircase that Kurt cannot explain.

     Following the roll of one ball as it descends the staircase, Kurt watches as it comes to a stop in the middle of the room along with several other balls surrounding a Jack-in-the-box. Drawn towards it, Kurt beings turning the crank, hearing the corresponding circus melody. The box springs open, and the severed head of a clown emerges, shouting to the boy a very ominous message of “let’s play!” as a hand with a white glove emerges from the box on a long springing coil, latching onto Kurt by the throat and choking him. Attempting to scream for help but unable to make noise or breathe for that matter, his last sight is of the horrible head of the clown staring up at him and laughing.                                                    

Kurt is finally able to let out a scream, finding himself back in his bed, learning that it was all just a dream, or a nightmare to be more concise.It is still the middle of the night, and there is nary a thud or any other noise in the hallway or anywhere else in the home. Relieved that it was a nightmare, the boy shudders at the thought of the frightening image that he is unable to shake from his mind. A face with a shade of white so unnatural in color that Kurt doesn’t know whether the face was covered in clown paint, or was merely pale from the loss of blood, which had oozed out of the toy like a fountain. The eyes and the voice alone were enough to create a chain reaction of successive nightmares, aftershocks if you will. Scared out of his wits and thirsty but too afraid of walking to the sink to nab a drink of water, the boy eventually drifts off to sleep again...

The next morning Kurt awakens to a dimly lit room, strange seeing as how the sun usually casts a beaming brightness throughout this corner of the house. Staring at the clock, he is surprised to see that it is almost eleven o’clock in the morning. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” the boy asks himself.

     “Bryan, are you here?” he asks, looking up at the empty bunk bed. The house is very still, with nobody else around anywhere in sight. Walking throughout the house and not finding anyone, the beleaguered Kurt exclaims out loud, “Hello, is anyone here?”

Dragging his feet into the kitchen after finding no one, the mystified child turns his sights to the refrigerator, retrieving a carton of milk, pouring an unhealthy dose of cereal and basking in the enjoyment of a rare breakfast alone. Looking out the window, he finds that his parent’s cars are both parked in the driveway. Where could they be? While rinsing out his bowl following the conclusion of his meal, a loud knocking sound can be heard from the front door, startling Kurt as he drops the bowl in the sink while turning around suddenly. “It’s about time!” Kurt says to himself, regaining his composure.

     Wasting no time in checking to see who may be behind the door, Kurt opens it wide, although not nearly as wide as the expression on his face after he sees a clown standing there before him, a clown who begins to remove balloons from his pocket.                                       

“One balloon for mommy, one for daddy, one for brother, and one for you Kurt! Your family is here with me, why don’t you come play with us!” the clown declares.           

Frozen in fear, Kurt finally is able to regain control, slamming the door shut and locking it.

     “No way, this has got to be a dream, or some sick, practical joke of Bryan’s. But today is a Wednesday, it’s a school day, he wouldn’t ditch to do this, and my parents wouldn’t be in on it, could they?” the boy says aloud to himself, racing towards his room.

     Looking out the window to gather his thoughts, he finds the clown standing five feet outside of his window, staring at him with a smile that could only be described as dastardly. Eyes affixed to the stranger, the terrified boy watches as the clown gleefully looks on. The clown is wearing an aqua colored suit decorated with colorful balloons, white gloves, a face painted in a pale white shade of white with stars around his eyes, beady eyes that resemble lumps of coal. No red ball is secured upon the crooked nose that looks broken, but that is hardly the most wince-inducing aspect of the face, as a long row of jagged, disgusting yellow teeth align the warped smile of the clown.

Serving to reset the boys focus was the jangle of the jester hat with five sides, each a different color and each resembling a hand holding a bell. The clown draws the focus of Kurt towards his hands as they begin making a balloon animal, twisting and turning the screeching shrill noise of the friction into what resembles a small dog. Placing it on the ground, the balloon animal turns into a real dog, a brown and white Scottish terrier which prances towards the window, licking the glass before barking and jumping up and down at the boy.

     “This must be a nightmare, the petrified boy tells himself as he darts out of the room, scrambling throughout the house until he finds a telephone. “Who am I going to call? Well I suppose 9-1-1.” As fate would have it, the phone fails to work, as nothing can be heard on the line, no dial tone or anything aside from the sound of dead silence.

Racing down the steps and into the basement in order to seek shelter, the frightened child plans to remain safely concealed within its refuge and safety for as long as his parents are gone. Hours pass and still nobody has returned home, perplexing the boy and prompting him to do something to satisfy his mounting curiosity. Moving ever so slowly towards the small window that is at ground level, Kurt raises his eyebrows with the methodical speed of one gently wading into a cold lake.

Eyes drawing near the glass, the abrupt brown blur of the barking dog with its high pitched yelp has returned, causing Kurt to jump about five feet in the air in fright from the noise.              

“How could he do this, with the dog, he must be the ghost of that psychopath. He’s not going to kill me or take my soul!” says the boy aloud to himself, fighting back tears of panic.

Returning upstairs in a flurry, the doorbell begins to ring, again, and again, and again. Glancing outside once again, this time from the safety of the second floor, the increase in heart rate and breathing continues, as the clown remains standing outside, waving up at Kurt in a slow motion pace, with those dead eyes and crooked smile. Turning his focus towards his side, the clown removes something from his pocket, holding it up to reveal a balloon before creating a second balloon animal for the boy, this time in the form of a snake. Placing it on the ground, the balloon turns into a real snake upon impact, resembling a large boa constrictor with a zigzagging pattern of green and brown scales. Slithering towards the house, the large snake begins profusely spouting his lanky tongue into the air, as if smelling the boy.

“He can turn a balloon animal into a real animal, but he cannot come in my house. If he were a ghost he would probably be able to do that. Maybe he’s a vampire? God, what in the hell is it?” the boy asks aloud.

Moments later, a hissing sound can be heard coming from the fireplace as the boy stands as still as the dead. Wandering towards the living room, Kurt is shocked to find the snake has crawled in through the chimney, looking on with a dazed stare as the serpent slithers its way towards the boy, who has grown quite disturbed to say the least.

Realizing that the supernatural clown has been lying in wait for hours outside and now possesses the power to reach him inside of the home, with no help in sight, Kurt reaches the conclusion that remaining inside is no longer an option. The other option plausibly available is to leave the house immediately, as Kurt improvises a plan in the form of running towards the garage in order to escape the clutches of the savage clown by means of his bicycle.

     Escaping out from the back door of his garage, Kurt puts his pedal to the metal as he feverishly churns his legs powering the wheels of the bicycle, racing as fast as he can down the street. Improvising on the fly, the spontaneous decision is made to seek help at a friend’s house. Working up the courage to look behind, the quick darting motion results in a straining of the neck, an injury that pales in comparison to seeing the clown closely following him down the block. Calling for help wherever he could find it, and stunned to see nobody anywhere around the neighborhood, Kurt finally reaches the home of his friend, tumbling off the bike and into the yard during the braking procedure, receiving a painful lesson in inertia in the process but one that he can feel later.

Jumping into and pounding the door, fingers struggling to find the doorbell, the frantic child begins screaming in his desperate and ill-fated search of help. Despite the boy’s fear of clowns, Kurt can handle a joker in a clown suit peddling around looking for a thrill, but this particular clown is giving off a disturbing vibe that sends a shiver down the boy’s spine, and Kurt does not intend to learn just why that happens to be the case.

     Cringing as he turns to find the clown making his way closer, only three houses down, the boy frees himself from the icy grip of fear, lifting up his getaway vehicle. Jumping back on the bike and riding full speed ahead, destination unknown, he rides through a stop sign, where in the distance he spots a little red car--finally, a sign of civilization, he thinks to himself. Stopping the bike and catching his breath as he flags the car down for help, the car slows to a crawl before coming to a halt. “Mr., Mrs., whoever, you’ve got to help me, this guy is chasing me,” he cries as the window rolls down as Kurt looks up.

     The face of the clown looks down at the boy. “I have had enough of fun and games...get in the car!” proclaims the clown with a menacing scowl.

     Shaking his head in pure fear, Kurt nearly vomits as he trips over his feet falling backwards, barely able to climb onto the bicycle and speed off just as the door of the car opens and the clown steps out onto the street.     Plodding over the pavement with the clown remaining in his wake, Kurt begins cutting through the yards between houses in an effort to shake the slowly moving red car—-although it somehow continues appearing on each street Kurt crosses. Realizing that he needs help and finding no one in sight, Kurt finally locates a church, riding across the parish lawn and entering the building, bicycle and all, narrowly beating the red car that had been hot on his heels and has just pulled into the church parking lot.  

     “Help me! Help me! There is some lunatic after me!” Kurt yells. Inside he finally sees someone besides the clown, noticing a priest sitting inside at his desk after racing through the halls. Running into his office, Kurt nearly leaps through the chairs and over the desk as he hugs the priest.

     “Oh thank God, finally, a person who can help me. This clown is after me, he wants to kill me!”

     Startled to see the boy running up to him in church, the father struggles finding the proper words to his response, pausing before requesting a sit down with the boy.

“There, there, calm down. Now, what is wrong my son?” asks the priest.

“It all started last night. My brother told me about this psychotic soul-stealing clown that hunts children. Naturally I thought he was pulling my leg, but this morning I woke up, my brother and parents were gone, everyone was gone, and this clown, this terrifying clown that does not belong to any circus, has been stalking me all day long. Following me everywhere, he makes balloons into snakes and dogs, he chased after me when I was on my bike, and somehow, someway, he managed to get into this red car and chase me in that. Threatening me if I didn’t get in the car with him, can you call the police?” explains Kurt, concluding his ramble after telling his story.

 “That is terrifying, where did you last see this clown?” asks the priest.

“Just outside here, he’s waiting in the parking lot,” replies Kurt. “Please Father, this is not some joke. My brother couldn’t pull something like this off, creating snakes out of balloons and disappearing into cars,” explains the boy.

“You saw not one person on this day, until me, is that correct?” asks the priest.

“Yes, my family was gone, my friends did not answer their door, nobody else was outside, and that red car was the only car I have seen today. Father, what is going on?” asks Kurt, as the priest begins to ask follow up questions.     

“Let’s see. So, your brother told you about this clown last night? Who steals souls, you said?”

     “Yes, see, I thought I was having a nightmare. Then I knew it wasn’t a dream because I was in my basement for hours, but no one came home. He sent a snake into my house, and I knew that I wasn’t safe, so I left, but couldn’t find help. That is what brought me here,” replies Kurt.

     “I have grown familiar with this particular clown,” declares the priest.

“You have? Who is this?” asks a shocked Kurt.

“Son, you may not understand this, but...you must go with the clown,” declares the priest.

     “What?” Says the shocked boy. “You’re right, I don’t understand. This guy tried to kidnap me, he might be trying to kill me!” the boy screams before burying his head in his hands to cry as the priest offers a reassuring hand.     

Hearing the faint sound of ringing bells growing louder with each passing second, Kurt looks over his shoulder towards the office door, to find the clown standing by the doorway. Spotting another doorway in the office, Kurt races out of the office and back into the church, to the chagrin of priest, who can be heard yelling, “no, stop!”

     Nearing the back entrance to the church, the doors shut by themselves, locking him inside of the church as they refuse to give way to his forceful shoving. The only refuge remaining in the building appears to be the confession booth, which is where Kurt seals himself. “This must be a dream, it just has to be, just like last night,” he whispers to himself. The sound of bells ringing begins to draw near once more, as the boy prepares to give himself up. The door opens, and standing before him, the clown appears once again with his familiar frightening appearance. Closing his eyes in fright, afraid of what is to come, a few moments tick away as Kurt begins slowly counting, reaching the number ten before opening his eyes again. No longer standing before him, the clown is sitting on a church pew, motioning the boy over to sit with him.

     “I am not going to hurt you,” says the clown.     

“Who are you? Why were you doing all of those things, chasing me? Where is my family? What is going on?” asks the boy, still frozen in the confession booth.

     Smiling, the clown replies. “So full of life, you have a thirst for knowledge, I can tell. I would like to apologize for earlier, I just happen to keep a busy schedule, and have been having a rather long week. I was sent to protect you, and to guide you. Your family is safe and sound. As for me, I am a friend. Please come with me.”

     Exiting the booth slowly and taking a seat a few pews behind the clown, Kurt begins shaking his head no instinctively in response. “You’re lying, I don’t believe you!

“It is only fair that I level with you, as you are old enough to be able to handle the truth. Kurt, there was a fire last night, in your home. Unfortunately, the flames spread quickly, and you inhaled a lot of smoke. You lost consciousness in your sleep, and you never felt a thing. Son, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you passed away. Your soul was lost in the mayhem of last night, and I am here to help you.”

     “This doesn’t make any sense, how can I be dead? Who exactly are you?” asks Kurt.

“You are twelve years old?” asks the clown, to which the boy nods in affirmation.                               

“I am not sure whether or not you are familiar with the concept of death being a walking, talking, supernatural being, but that is who I happen to be. This will all make more sense in time, my son. You see, I appear in the form of a clown so that young children are not afraid of me, although perhaps you were too old for such a stunt,” explains the clown.

     “Well, to tell you the truth, clowns have always given me the creeps,” replies Kurt.

“I’m sorry for all of that, but can you blame me?” asks death.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the Oakland County Killer?” snaps Kurt.

“So you are here to help me, no wonder the priest wanted me to follow you,” replies the boy.

     “For that I apologize, children used to adore clowns, although I suppose that was about one hundred years ago now, I really ought to keep up with the times...Kurt, there is nothing to be afraid of any longer. Come, your family is waiting for you,” says the clown.

     The priest enters back into the fold. “Everything is okay my son, I understand that this is very difficult for you to fathom, to realize,” he explains.

     “So the clown is who you say he is, and who he says he is?” asks the boy, as the priest closes his eyes and nods.

     Kurt exhales loudly, blowing his hair in the process as he looks back towards the clown, who motions towards the doorway, which opens up revealing a bright white light. Feeling a warm, pleasant sensation coursing throughout his entire body while gazing into the light, Kurt walks over to the clown, who places his hand upon the head of the child, messing up his hair in a playful manner before resting his hand on his back in a guiding motion.

Walking towards the light and investigating it to the best of his abilities, Kurt stops as his attention turns back up at his new friend. The clown slowly holds out his hand in an offering motion, an offer accepted by the boy, gripping the hand of the clown as the two make their way together into the light...                                

Kurt has arrived at his destination, slightly late, but under the care and guidance of death, a supernatural being proving that he possesses a heart just as big as anyone alive. Death, a character sometimes frightening, sometimes friendly, but always fortuitous; a figure that comes in a variety of appearances wearing a variety of shades, among them in that wardrobe the flamboyant dress and disguise of a phantom jester.

How appropriate for such a figure, seeing as how clowns exist with the purpose of making us laugh, masking from the world their true identities which often times are far more terrifying than a man clad in painted face peddling antics while robed in a funny, colorful attire with big, floppy shoes.

Taking into account this harsh reality it should come to the surprise of no one that the clown has become universally panned and feared for generations, although conversely one might take a moment to respect and appreciate the good intentions of these costumed crusaders through the years, in their efforts to dress up and tame an often unfriendly world into something a touch more palatable.

The clown, a unique and perfect example of how some fears should be confronted, while some should remain concealed, regardless of whether you are a twelve-year old like Kurt, an elderly priest, or happen to fall somewhere in between along the spectrum. Food for thought, from the midway of the mind, in this circus of the supernatural...

 

END