General Fiction posted October 29, 2024


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How new clowns are born

Clown-face

by Lobber


In the heart of a sleepy town, a small circus pitched its tents, its tattered banners flapping in the breeze. Among the performers was Clown-face, a mysterious figure with an enigmatic smile permanently painted on his face. He lived with his children who were equally eerie in their dark brown clown attire. They all lived in a caravan behind the main tent.
 
One fateful evening, Emerson, a curious audience member, caught the attention of Clown-face.  Emerson, a devoted circus historian, was intrigued by the man beneath the makeup. Clown-face extended an invitation for a drink at a nearby bar. Emerson eagerly agreed.
 
Emerson anxiously looked at his watch. His meeting with Clown-face was already running half an hour late. Then, somehow, in a flash, Clown-face arrived wearing his costume. He said he had no time to change. Emerson didn’t know whether he should be surprised or impressed at Clown-face arriving in his work clothes.
 
As they chatted over drinks, Clown-face's demeanor subtly shifted … his eyes gleaming with a hidden agenda. Sensing Emerson's unease, Clown-face suggested they continue their conversation at his caravan after the next show.  Reluctantly, Emerson agreed.
 
Emerson’s first impression was that the tent was dingy. Once inside, Clown-face offered him a drink, laced with a potent sedative. As the drug took effect, Emerson's vision blurred, and he felt himself slipping into darkness. When he awoke, he was in a small tent and strapped to a metal chair.  The thin canvas walls revealed an eerie glow of circus lights.
 
Clown-face stood before him, his makeup streaked with tears, revealing the man beneath the mask. Emerson recoiled in horror at the sight, unable to comprehend the grotesque visage before him. He retched at the sight, bile rising in his throat.
 
Quickly, Clown-face reapplied his makeup and wig. His mask of joviality returned to his face as if by magic. He approached Emerson with an apologetic smile. He said he only wanted to share his true self with someone he felt could understand him.
 
Desperate to escape, Emerson requested to use a restroom. He found himself in a draped-off area of the tent. Alone, he remembered that the makeup on Clown-face's face was subtly wrong, the lines twisted and the colors misaligned.
 
Emerson looked in the mirror hanging from two strings in front of him. He gasped as he saw something peculiar…on his face was a penciled tracing of sadness. Almost intuitively, he reached for a bottle of makeup on the small, nearby table. He turned the bottle and discovered it had a picture of a skull and crossbones. Before he could comprehend the implications, Clown-face appeared behind him, his smile widening into a sinister grin. "You were never meant to leave," he whispered as darkness consumed Emerson again.
 
Emerson awoke to discover that a spiteful, sinister face of horror and evil had been tattooed on his face by Clown-face. He was to be featured as the Clown Who Never Smiles.
 
His spiteful red nose and bloodied lips guaranteed that no child would ever hug him.
 
The only warmth he exuded was the smoke from the pipe between his bloodied teeth. Emerson’s fate as a clown was that he appear as a deranged, drugged, captive performer.
 
From that day onwards, he was forever entwined within the twisted world of a bizarre circus and its macabre inhabitants.
 



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