The Guild of Fallen Clowns (13 page)

The rocking stopped. Alan’s hands remained
braced against the walls, prepared for additional jolting.

“Hey! What’s going on out there? Let me
out.”

It was silent. The door opened. Standing in
front of him was T-Pot.

“Hello again, Clown,” he said as he clenched
both fists; the rest of his gang stood behind him.

“Back up!” Geno shouted. The boys moved
aside. “Come out, Alan.”

Alan looked beyond Geno and the teenagers
and noticed he wasn’t outside. They had carried the Porta Potty
into the Labyrinth.

“What did you do? Why…how did—”

“Step out,” Geno demanded a second time.

Alan grabbed his shoes and stepped out. Geno
then instructed the boys to return the unit outside before anyone
noticed it missing. Four boys picked up ends of two long boards
slid underneath and lifted up the big container as T-Pot
supervised. They walked it out and Geno quickly pulled the rolling
door closed and locked it behind them.

Outside, T-Pot, sensing that Geno had
double-crossed them, commanded the others to put the Porta Potty
down short of its original location. With it back on the ground,
T-Pot ran back to the Labyrinth door and started pounding.

“Hey! Let us in, freak,” he yelled. Cracky
rounded the corner as T-Pot continued banging the door. The sight
of the huge clown scattered the other boys like roaches. T-Pot
turned to see Cracky reaching down for him. He ducked and escaped
between Cracky’s legs. He jumped the fence and within twenty yards
overtook his slower friends.

Cracky watched as they escaped a second
time. He glanced back at the door of the Labyrinth. It was still
locked tight with no signs of damage. Cracky slid the Porta Potty
next to the others, went inside, and flipped the latch to the
occupied position.

*****

Inside the Labyrinth, Alan stood motionless
as Geno returned.

“We knew you wouldn’t come on your own. And
don’t worry about those idiots. They won’t be back,” Geno said.

“How did you know I wasn’t going to come?
And even if I didn’t, what gives you the right to kidnap me?”

Geno ignored Alan’s questions and exited the
room as he did before.

“Peepers here to help Alan. Do not fear my
image,” Peepers voice came from the darkness.

“Where are you?” Alan asked as he scanned
the dimly lit mirrors in the room.

Peepers gradually appeared in the mirror in
front of Alan.

“Please let me go. I don’t want to be here
and you don’t have the right to keep me.”

Peepers smiled and stepped through the
mirror. His ghostly image floated around Alan. Alan turned with
him. Peepers stopped and floated back in front of a different
mirrored panel.

“Alan is free to leave. Your door is behind
Peepers.” The panel behind Peepers pivoted, creating openings on
both sides.

“Okay, step aside and I’ll leave,” Alan
said.

Peepers smiled again and said, “Peepers
cannot stop Alan. Alan can walk through Peepers.”

Alan looked at Peepers’ translucent image
and considered his offer. It made perfect sense. Peepers was a
ghost. Outside the mirrors, he didn’t have a solid form and Alan
should be able to walk right through him. It should work, but there
was no way in hell he would purposely walk through a ghost. Even if
it meant he would be free of Peepers and the Labyrinth.

He was imprisoned by his own lack of
willpower. Once again, cracks formed in his perfect plan. It was
time to revert to plan “A,” which was to face his fears. With every
ounce of power he had, he closed his eyes, raised his hands in
Peepers’ direction, and said, “I command you to leave me
alone!”

There was dead silence. Alan’s eyes remained
closed. He didn’t know if it worked. If he opened his eyes and saw
Peepers still standing there, he would be out of options. On the
other hand, he couldn’t stand there all night with his eyes closed,
hoping it worked.

After about thirty seconds, he decided to
peek through a squinted eye. The door was in front of him but
through the tight view of one eye, he wasn’t completely sure if
Peepers was gone. He slowly opened the eye a little more. There was
no sign of Peepers in front of him. This was a positive sign and he
fully opened both eyes. Peepers was gone, he thought. It worked.
Now all he had to do was slip out the door, and this episode of his
life would finally be over.

He dropped his arms to his side and eased
forward. He took one-step toward the door.
So far so good.
He took another step. The door was a good ten steps away. He could
take off running, but he feared that the sudden movement might
reawaken Peepers’ spirit. He thought it would be best to slip out
as slowly and quietly as possible.

He took another step forward. With each step
closer to the exit, he felt more relieved. He was halfway with no
signs of Peepers’ return. Just to be sure he was successful in
casting Peepers from his life, he took his focus off the exit door
and turned to look at the mirrors behind him. The mirrors were dark
but not completely empty.

Peepers wasn’t inside the room or the
mirrors, but something else was. As he stared over his shoulder,
images in the mirrors became more distinct. They appeared to be
faces without bodies peeping out at him. He turned to look over his
left shoulder and more faces appeared. The images sharpened and
became animated with smiles, grimaces, and rolling eyes.

Dozens of disembodied, grotesque, caricature
clown heads watched from inside the mirrors. The mob of freakishly
evil faces silently staring back at him was more frightening than
anything he had ever witnessed—including Peepers. He abandoned his
soft-step approach to exiting the building as his feet leapt two
steps forward. Once his head caught up to his feet and he faced the
exit, the sight of Peepers blocking his path made him skid to a
stop. He looked to the faces behind. Then he looked at Peepers in
front of him.

Peepers scanned the faces of his guild and
waved them back into the darkness. As they faded, Alan stepped back
into the room, slightly relieved to be back to his original
dilemma. Plan A failed. You couldn’t cast ghostly spirits from your
life by simply shouting at them. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a
plan B.

“What do you want from me?” he said.

“Peepers not here to frighten Alan. Peepers
help Alan overcome his fear,” Peepers said.

“What does that even mean?” Alan replied,
exhausted and weakened from his efforts to escape the
situation.

“Alan help Peepers, and we help Alan trust
Peepers and fear not.”

Alan’s shoulders slumped in surrender. “I
don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. Can’t you just make this
easy and tell me what you want from me? Please?” he said as he fell
to his knees pleading.

Peepers grinned. “Alan possesses power of
messenger spirit. Life energy and masked talent needed to help
Peepers earn the light.”

“Yeah, you said something about my strong
spirit before. I still don’t know what it means, or why you think
someone like me can help you. This must be a mistake. I’m not the
same person from Clown World. My only talent is that I’m a pretty
good player in the virtual world. But that’s only a game. Look at
me.” He held his arms out to his side for Peepers to get a good
look. “Do I look like some strong-spirited person with an ability
at all to help you? Clown World isn’t real. It’s safe, and nobody
can hurt me there. It’s easy to act like someone I’m not in the
real world. What you need is someone who’s strong in the real
world, someone who isn’t scared of you. I think it’s obvious that
I’m not that guy.”

“McGiggles never wrong. Spirit is in Alan.
Peepers help discover talent. Alan used to help Peepers and guild
earn forgiveness. Show Alan how he helps others like him grow
strong in life.”

“McGiggles? Is he one of those freaky faces
I saw in the mirrors? Are they ‘the guild’ you keep mentioning?”
Alan asked.

“Peepers and the guild once like Alan. Were
clowns. Never discover our talents. Hide behind painted faces.
Crave acceptance. Shunned, path of sin opened. Death deprive chance
for atone.”

“The guild? You’re just one of them? How
many are there?”

“Many. Our sins display ugliness outside.
Fear not. We seek atonement. Alan able to help guild escape
ugliness, earn light.”

“Are you suggesting there’s a way for me to
help you and all those creepy characters get to heaven?”

“Heaven—yes! Alan help guild earn light.
Escape darkness through his talent and powerful spirit.”

“So, I can help you with this supposed
talent of mine? What might that talent be?”

“Alan great sculptor. The guild can help
people through Alan’s talent.”

“I’m a sculptor? No way! I’ve never sculpted
anything. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. I really think
you have the wrong person. Please, just slide away from the door
and let me go now.”

“Alan free to walk through Peepers. Peepers
move if Alan trusts and promise to sculpt Peepers’ likeness.”

“Are you saying that you’ll let me out if I
promise to try sculpting you?” Alan said.

“Yes. Peepers share with Alan his gift, but
Peepers must earn light. Alan sculpt Peepers and return tomorrow
night. When you return, Peepers helped Alan overcome his fear.
Peepers help Alan believe only.”

Alan recognized these words. He removed the
white clown glove from his hand; the words were still written on
his palm. This was an interesting twist. All this time, he thought
that Peepers was the evil he needed to fight. Now that he used the
words, “Believe only,” he was seeing things in a new light. Maybe
Peepers was the thing he needed to believe in. Maybe in order to
overcome his fears, he needed to do more than just face them. He
had to understand and help them. Sure, Peepers and the guild were
freakishly ugly, but if Peepers was telling the truth, they wanted
to help people. They wanted to earn forgiveness and go to heaven.
Was it possible Father Harris was telling him to believe Peepers,
and he would find much more than a solution to his problem? Might
he be able to bring peace to the poor souls who felt the need to
hide behind masks in life? Whatever their sins, Alan appreciated
their desire to repent.

He considered what Peepers told him. His
trust for him grew, but he still didn’t believe he had a talent for
sculpting.

“Okay, Peepers, I will try it. But, if you
are wrong and I can’t sculpt you, I won’t come back. I promise to
only come back here if you are telling me the truth. Now, will you
please let me out?”

Peepers smiled and bowed as his body glided
away from the door. Alan cautiously moved through the opening and
found himself outside.

Monday morning, Alan waited in his car for
the local art supply store to open. The store’s window displays
were packed with artistic samplings from a variety of mediums.
Paintings were propped up on wooden easels. Partially completed
sculptures displayed on tables and temporary shelves were used to
demonstrate stages of completion. Filling in the spaces between the
works was an assortment of colorful posters, advertising paints,
drawing supplies, brushes, and a host of other products with
manufacturers’ names unfamiliar to Alan.

An employee unlocked the door and flipped
the door sign to OPEN. They were open for business but Alan
remained in his car. He didn’t want to be the first, and possibly
the only, customer in a store full of pretentious employees looking
down at the artistically challenged wanna-be sculptor, an obvious
intruder to their close-knit community of talented artists.

Five minutes passed before the first
customer entered the store. One person wasn’t enough. She might not
require assistance from an employee. If not, her arrival just added
one set of potentially mocking eyes leering at him, the outsider.
He suddenly realized the flaw in his plan. More customers
translated to more
real
artists ridiculing the poser with
rolling eyes and snubbed noses.

It wasn’t that he was scared to enter the
store. He just looked for the most comfortable set of circumstances
that would lessen potential attention to himself and his obvious
lack of knowledge for anything relating to art. With valid
arguments to make for all possible scenarios, he decided that that
moment was as good a time as any to make his move. He got out of
his car and walked to the door. Reaching for the handle, he looked
up to see if there were any bells to announce his entrance. If he
saw the bells, he would pull slowly to reduce the sound. He was in
luck; no bells above the door. He gave the door a standard pull and
stepped into the store. His entrance triggered an electric buzzer
sound, foiling his attempt to go unnoticed. To his surprise, his
entrance didn’t draw any attention. In addition to the one
customer, Alan could only see two employees, one stocking shelves
as the other broke down his empty boxes. Both were engrossed in
conversation, so Alan was free to browse.

The store was separated into sections, with
wall signs indicating the types of supplies in that area. Alan
spotted the sign for sculpting materials in the back right corner.
Making his way, he felt as out of place as a nun in a gun shop.
Everything was very interesting but foreign to him.

He turned right and found himself surrounded
with options. Shelves filled with dozens of metal and plastic
carving tools, all shaped for specific purposes. Jugs of chemicals
and dry mixes for mold making. Countless blocks of clays in a
variety of sizes and colors. The choices were overwhelming.

He leaned over and pressed his finger into a
large, loosely wrapped block of clay on the floor. It was soft and
looked like the sort of clay used on a wheel to make bowls. Another
shelf had smaller, brick-size materials. He pushed a finger into
one of them, but it barely made a dent. He picked it up in an
effort to appear a little less lost if someone happened to see him.
Glancing to the top shelf he noticed human-shaped wood and wire
figures, also offered in multiple sizes.