The Guild of Fallen Clowns (19 page)

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Authors: Francis Xavier

Tags: #thriller, #horror, #ghosts, #spirits, #humor, #carnival, #clowns, #creepy horror scary magical thriller chills spooky ghosts, #humor horror, #love murder mystery novels

BOOK: The Guild of Fallen Clowns
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The boy smiled and threw his shoulders back.
“That wasn’t me. Todd told you that.”

“I don’t care which one of you said it. You
could have corrected him.”

“Hey, chillax, dude. So we played a
practical joke on her. What’s the harm?”

“It’s just not cool. She’s obviously scared
of clowns, and you knew it. And, you used me to do it for you.”

Todd and another boy approached. “What’s the
problem?” Todd said.

“Oh, he’s just mad because we tricked
him.”

Todd stepped beside Alan and put his arm
over his shoulder and looked at his buddies. “You know what? He’s
right. We probably shouldn’t have done that,” he conceded, winking
to his pals. “We’re sorry we tricked you, dude. We weren’t
thinking.”

Alan grew uncomfortable with Todd’s invasion
of his personal space. He tried backing away, but Todd was taller
and stronger, and he wasn’t ready to let go until Alan accepted his
apology.

“Okay, I believe you. Now let me go so I can
get back to work,” Alan said.

Todd gripped tighter on his shoulder. “Hold
up, bro. Before you go, I wanted to ask you about that job you have
at the carnival.”

“Okay, what about it?” Alan said, ducking
out from Todd’s hold.

Todd allowed him to get away and continued
his line of questioning. “Is it true what they say about the
Haunted Labyrinth?”

“I don’t know. What do they say about it?”
Alan asked.

“They say that it really is haunted. Is that
true? Have you seen any ghosts in there?”

Alan wasn’t about to share his own
experiences with Todd or anyone else. As far as he knew, only he
and Geno knew about the clown spirits in the mirrors.

“I think you shouldn’t believe everything
you hear,” he replied.

“Really, does that mean you’ve never
experienced anything there?”

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t believe
everything you hear. If you want to know for yourself, go to the
carnival and go through it.”

Todd smiled and nodded as he looked at the
other boys. “That’s a great idea, but I’ve always heard that
haunted houses are more active late at night. Since you work there,
do you think you might be able to sneak us in so we could check it
out after the place closes? I mean, how scary would it be if we
went through it while the place was full of people?”

Alan shook his head. “No way, guys. First of
all, I’m just a part-timer. I don’t hang around after hours. Even
if I did, I wouldn’t do that. You don’t want to mess around with
that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing? You did see something,
didn’t you?” Todd said.

“No, I mean, you wouldn’t want to mess
around with breaking and entering. Just get the whole idea out of
your head and visit during the day.”

Todd handed Alan a five-dollar tip and
assured him they would take his advice. Alan turned and walked
toward his car while the boys huddled together on the porch talking
about something before returning to the party inside.

 

*****

 

Mrs. Henderson sat at her kitchen table and
stared at the pizza box topped with the curious bag. With her index
finger, she slowly poked twice at the bag. She could make out
something solid inside. Changing direction, she decided to look
inside the more familiar pizza box. She gingerly lifted one corner,
making sure the bag on top wouldn’t slide off. Seeing her usual
order inside, she dropped the lid and returned her focus to the
bag. She poked it a few more times. Nothing happened.

With a cautious, quarter rotation of the
pizza box, she positioned the loosely crumbled opening of the bag
toward her. Without touching it, she leaned down and in, searching
for a large enough opening for a glimpse inside. The wrinkled folds
obstructed her view so she picked up nearby knitting needles and
carefully pried it open a little at a time until she had a clear
view inside. The figure was upside down and she only saw the bottom
of the base.

The knitting needles succeeded in opening
the bag, but now she needed a new tool to remove the object. She
stood and walked over to a utensil drawer, constantly glancing back
at the bag as she rifled through the drawer. Finding a pair of
tongs, she left the drawer open and returned to the table, where
she stood facing the back end of the bag.

Slowly, she reached the tongs out to the
bag. They opened and then pinched a corner of the bag. With gentle
upward tugs, she inched the figure out until it was free, laying it
face down on the table.

She released the bag from the tongs and
walked around the table to see as much of it as she could without
touching it. With the figure face down, she wasn’t able to get a
full view. Using her tongs, she gripped it in the center and slowly
raised it upright. As soon as his face lined up with hers, her hand
jerked and she jumped back. Her hands covered her eyes. The figure
should have fallen from her sudden movement. Instead, it appeared
to move in an effort to regain its balance. Mrs. Henderson
cautiously lowered her hand from her eyes and looked back at the
table. The Peepers figure stood motionless, facing her. She crept
sideways until she was out of his direct line of view.

Her breathing became labored from fright,
but she didn’t know what to do. She wanted it out of the house, but
she didn’t want to get near it. The tongs lay on the table between
her and the figure. Without taking her eyes off the figure, she
inched forward and stretched out her hand until her fingers touched
the tongs. As she did this, Peepers’ head slowly turned as his body
remained still. She screamed and backed into the corner of her
kitchen, where she slumped to the floor in the fetal position.

 

*****

 

With one hand rubbing tears from her eyes
and the other concealing her soaked crotch, Debbie curled up in the
corner of the kitchen pantry. A girl leaned over and attempted to
console her panicked and humiliated friend. Debbie pleaded with her
to leave her alone. The girl gave in and asked if she wanted the
door open or closed.

“Closed, but turn the light on first,” she
replied.

A roll of paper towels sat on the shelf
beside her. She tore one off to wipe the tears from her face, then
gathered a dozen more, wadded them up and pressed them into her
crotch. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a
number. A mans voice answered.

She sniffled and pleaded, “Dave, please. I
really need you to come get me.”

She listened to his reply and the tears
flowed again. “I know, but I didn’t know who else to call. Please,
Dave! I really need you,” she cried.

Dave angrily denied her request before
hanging up. Debbie closed her phone, wrapped her arms around her
knees pulled up to her face, and continued to sob.

 

*****

 

From the floor in the corner of the room,
Mrs. Henderson’s body shook in spasms as she gasped for air. The
Peepers figure moved to the edge of the table, where it stared down
at her with a sinister smile. She was trapped, but unable to look
away from the figure. It rolled the kinks out of its neck and then
spoke.

“Peepers finally free.” The figure returned
to its original pose and a cloud of black smoke formed beside the
table. The cloud grew to life-size proportions before fading away,
revealing a solid form with the smaller motionless figure on the
table behind him. He moved close and leaned at the waist until his
face was a foot from hers.

“I am Peepers. Peepers represent the Guild
of Fallen Clowns. On this day your life will change.”

He smiled, then returned upright. Mrs.
Henderson remained coiled up shivering on the floor. He casually
turned and stepped away to the open kitchen drawer. Without looking
at her, he continued speaking as he rummaged through the drawer,
moving utensils from side to side.

“Peepers’ power within figure,” he said. His
finger pointed over his shoulder to the figure on the table behind
him.

“If you want Peepers’ help, do not reject
figure.”

Mrs. Henderson looked at the motionless
figure on the table. Then she looked back at Peepers admiring a
long carving knife held out in front of him. He looked back and
repeated, “Reject Peepers’ help by rejecting statue.”

He turned away and moved to another drawer.
Again, she looked at the figure. Peepers was looking away and she
had room to grab the figure. Slowly, she worked her way to her
feet. Still looking away, Peepers smiled and continued shuffling
through drawers.

“If you reject the Guild by casting Peepers
statue from your home, Peepers cannot help you.”

She stepped closer to the table and covertly
reached for the figure. As soon as she touched it, Peepers froze.
Then he grinned and turned slowly toward her. She saw him turn and
ran for the door with his figure in hand. Peepers followed, leaving
a comfortable distance.

“The choice is yours. Reject Peepers’
help—”

She fumbled to unlock the deadbolt. Peepers
closed the gap.

“Peepers grow angry—”

The door opened. She cocked back her
arm.

“Angry Peepers—”

She lunged forward, launching the figure
into bushes lining the walkway. She slammed the door shut and
locked it. With her back pressed against the door and her eyes
closed, ten minutes of silence passed before she could breathe
normally. The figure was outside and his voice didn’t return.

She started to feel a sense of security, but
she was afraid to open her eyes to his last position in the room.
She turned to face the door and crept to the side window. Her
finger found the curtain and pulled it back. Leaning her face up to
the sliver of an opening, she slowly opened her eyes and spotted
the figure resting face down in a bush.

With the figure outside, she felt a slight
bit of relief. She kept her eyes open and turned to face the room.
To her great relief, she was alone. With that thing on the outside,
her bunker was once again secure.

She returned to the kitchen where she
noticed the bag on the tile floor. She picked it up with the nearby
tongs and placed it in a pot where she lit a match and burned it.
Then she placed the pot in the sink, ran cold water into it, and
watched until the ashes disappeared down the drain. She turned off
the water and froze at a chewing sound behind her. She turned to
see Peepers sitting at the table, eating a slice of pizza.

“Mmm, Alan right. Good pizza,” he said.

Her veins visibly throbbed under the thin
skin of her neck.

“Peepers warned, reject our help and Peepers
grow angry. Angry Peepers, vengeful Peepers.” He swallowed his
food, placed the remainder of the slice on the box, and looked at
Mrs. Henderson. He smiled and said, “Peepers thank Hilda for
rejecting him.”

She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
Her shaking knees buckled, dropping her to the floor. Peepers stood
and walked up to her. Fear paralyzed her muscles as he sat beside
her trembling body. Her lips quivered as she desperately attempted
to mutter words.

“What was that?” Peepers said as he leaned
his ear close. She tried saying the words again.

“Milton? Ha!” Peepers said.

“Milton dead. Cannot help.” He took pleasure
in watching her body convulse in fear.

After basking in her fear, he decided it was
time to push her further. She was lying on her side facing him. He
pressed her raised shoulder to the floor and moved her leg so that
she was flat on her back. Her eyes were the only part of her that
weren’t paralyzed. They followed his face as he repositioned her
numb body.

Peepers placed his body above hers in a
push-up position, keeping his weight off her body. He looked down
at her and said, “Peepers know all. Peepers know about Russian
soldier. Does Hilda remember soldier’s face?”

Her face went white.

Peepers lowered his weight on top of her.
“Hilda rejected soldier. Made him angry.”

“Do you remember feeling? Does Hilda feel
now?”

Pinned beneath him, she managed to close her
eyes.

Peepers rubbed into her. He reached for her
dress and hiked it to her waist.

“He took from you—” He continued slowly
humping her as he ripped off her underwear.

“Do you remember what Hilda did now?” he
said.

She opened her eyes and looked to her side.
One of her kitchen knives was on the floor beside her. She found
the power to free her arm and reach for the knife. She grasped it
tight and thrust it into Peepers’ back. His heavy body went limp on
top of her. Blood flowed over her body as she desperately struggled
to climb out from under him. Peepers lay face down next to her as
she wept on the floor beside him. She kicked his body and slid
away, making as much distance from him as possible in the small
room.

Backed into a corner, she curled up with one
eye locked on what she thought to be his lifeless corpse. Through
tear-filled eyes, she thought she saw movement. She cleared the
tears, and her suspicion was confirmed. His arm slowly rose behind
his back. His hand grabbed the knife and yanked it from the wound.
Exhausted, she wasn’t able to lift her body from the floor as she
watched in horror as the resurrected Peepers rolled over and
returned the blood-soaked knife to the drawer before sliding
himself beside her.

“Yes, you killed the Russian. Took his life.
Hilda cry Milton, but never give self. Gave soldier, take his
life.”

“No!” she cried out.

“Yes, live haunted by soldier. Reject
husband, live with fear in memory. Peepers set free painful
memory.”

“No!” she screamed. “I loved Milton. He
loved me!”

Peepers made a fist and turned toward her.
Her lips quivered as she cried. The look of total surrender came
over her face and Peepers repeated, “Peepers will free Hilda of
fear.”

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