The Clown on the Edge

For most of the young years of my life my family took up residence in a delightful pre-1940 farm house.

We had no neighbours that lived within a good 5 kilometres so we were usually isolated form the rest of the world, excluding harvest time. Harvest time was the time of the year where we would go to the market to sell and purchase all sorts of food, livestock and tools that could be used on the farm.

I was home schooled, so there wasn't really any other reason to leave the house.

I had no friends, and the only other person I knew that was my age was Clara, my older nine year old sister and our friendship tended to be a little stormy, so I wouldn't even count her as someone I hung out with.

If you've ever been on a farm of any kind you probably are familiar with the fact that there are countless chores to do.

So that's what I spent most of my time doing, feeding the chickens, and pigs, cows, milking the goats and cows and my all time least favourite, working with the crops.

This was the life of me as a seven year old farm kid.

The fact that I had no friends to play with changed who I was very quickly and permanently as I had no one else to enjoy my free time with.

I quickly grew up creating my own vast arsenal of games and playing them in between chores and meals, using the knowledge that I had read in the books my father made me read to inspire the games I played.

I also learned to be extremely quiet as all the speaking my characters did in my stories spoke inside my head, and I felt no need to make my sister feel like I was crazy, talking to myself and all.

My sister was sometimes my worst enemy and sometimes a very close friend. I was a rebel of a child, always seeing what i could do to skip chores or get into trouble. I was seven at the time. Clara was a goody two-shoes, always helping out, doing well in everything she did and she could never say no to a adult. She was 10.

At the best of times she would help me with chores and in return I would show her a shortcut to one of her selected chores.

At the worst of times, well, if you've ever had siblings then you probably know that that siblings have a tendency towards fighting verbally.

That's where me and my sister exceeded in.

We were always ripping at each other's throats, attempting to discover what we could do to make each other feel horrible.

I have to admit, looking back on things, I tended to start the fights, however I usually lost to her crying and our parents coming to investigate what the problem was.

Any ways, enough back story.

It was a handful of weeks before the grand farmer's market opened and we would spill all of our goods into tables and sell and barter with others.

Also another treat was making itself clear. A carnival was arriving this year especially for a area quit close to us and I was over joyed with the opportunity presented if I did all my chores.

For once in my lifetime, I was trying to be good and helpful.

My sister Clara hated this new trait in my behaviour because she thought that I was going to steal all the spotlight and it was a big compilation of who could be the best behaved.

So ironically, we got into a lot of fights that year.

It was after a particularly nasty fight between me and Clara. Clara had began to bawl her eyes out after I called her a ugly pig, ending the fight.

Our father came running and told us we would have to spend the rest of the day apart.

I was fine with that.

My latest ideas had brought me to the mud holes that were spotted here and there through out the property.

I would spend hours in the mud, creating structures and watching then dry. I would then commit battle with various colours of army troops.

It had rained the night before and the mud was dry enough to use effectively, but still moist enough to morph into whatever shape I want.

So I began to construct a terrific and large castle of half dried mud in my favourite mud hole.

However, I would often peer around nervously to the woods that rested on my left.

The woods were the one place on the property that we were forbidden from. A fence cut it off from me at the moment however I was still nervous about it.

My mother had used a scare tactic to prevent me from going in the woods because as the trouble maker of the house, I felt it was my sole duty to break the rule and enter the woods.

So my mother had told a tale of the tribe of boogeymen that lurked just beyond my line of sight on the woods.

She said the best glimpse I would get was a white flash of claws or maybe a blinking pair of yellow eyes. If I dared ventured into the woods. I would see much more. And I didn't want that to happen.

Although I didn't believe in anything supernatural, the stories my mother fabricated did ease my curiosity to the point where I wouldn't want to even approach the woods.

The mud was drying up a lot faster then I had anticipated due to a bright sun and a extremely heated day.

I wanted even half done my creation before the mud began to crack.

Frustrated, I smashed the structure with my hand and watched it crumble into a large pile of rubble.

That's when I heard a loud snap of dry wood coming from my left.

Quietly I peered over to the side and saw nothing.

Adrenaline pumped into my veins as I cautiously whispered 'Hello?'

No response but the slight breeze of the wind.

I sighed with relief and got ready to make the return trip to the house as I was throughly disturbed to the point where I was done with the woods for a while.

The soft rustling of leafs echoed from the forest. It was probably just the breeze. Right?

I now began hurriedly walking away form the forest but another loud snap forced me to look around.

A figure was standing right on the tree line.

I froze in place and processed the image my eyes were giving my brain.

The figure had long, curly and frizzy bright hair flowing in tight curls from his scalp.

He wore a stripped overcoat of white and baby blues that was unbuttoned so it flapped slightly in the breeze.

Ghostly white makeup covered his entire visible body in a sheet the oily stuff.

His lips were placed in parallel line that told me his emotion was neutral.

His eyes were laden in black makeup as well, producing a strange gothic effect that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand swiftly on end as he stared at me with keen observant eyes.

I stopped walking and froze in place, my alarmed eyes meeting with his in a cold instant.

I cannot recall how long we stood there, in a awkward trance of suspicion however, I can recall that he was the one who made the first move.

His face cracked a slight smile that I think was intended to draw me nearer and make me feel comfortable but the sudden action got the exact opposite reaction from me. He also gave a confident wave, attempting to lure me closer to him.

The adrenaline screamed at my legs to run as fast as they could but I forced them to stay exactly where they were.

Instead I muttered something that I don't have any recollection of why I said it, as it was probably a reason that was only logical to a small boy who wasn't even aware of the term 'stranger danger'.

'Y-y-y-you know m-mister i-it's not s-safe in those woods. T-things sometimes l-l-lurk in there. You should p-p-probably stay a-away from that p-place.'

I was stuttering heavily out of fear.

The clown looked at me with a curious look.

He responded in a raspy deep voice, as if it hurt him to speak any louder then a whisper.

'Oh, yes. I'm sorry my dear boy. I forgot about that.'

And with that he stepped a little closer to the fence that separated us so he wasn't as far into the forest.

He spoke again, 'Say... You wouldn't have happened to heard about the carnival. Would you?'

I nodded eagerly, all my fear washed away with the thought of that splendid carnival.

'Oh!' He acted all excited and danced around clapping his hands for a few moments before retiring to his usual upright position. 'So you have! I work for the carnival you know. It's quite a amazing show I tell you!'

'You've seen it?' I asked eagerly, attempting to configure a image of what the fascinating show would be like.

'Oh yes! They do lots of rehearsals in the weeks before the showing. I play as a clown as you have probably already guessed!'

I nodded eagerly.

The wind was rising steadily now and his blue and white overcoat was flapping about like a flag.

'Say! I have a idea! Would you like to come with me and let me show you the rehearsal?'

My mouth hung wide open and I forgot about how creepy the clown had appeared to me in the first place in a instant.

'Boy would I ever!' I shouted excitedly.

'Then come on!' The clown yelped happily, gesturing me with a pasty and eerily thin and bony hand.

I began climbing the fence at once, carefully making sure my clothes didn't get entangled in one of the generously spaced knots of barbed metal.

The wind was blowing in a extremely fast fashion and the overcoat burst open in a instant.

And it only took that instant for me to realize that something was wrong.

Something horribly wrong.

Knives.

Knives were held in custom pockets in all sorts of elegant and disturbing fashions.

The cruelly shaped rustless metal clashed with the sunlight and reflected into my eyes.

I counted the amount of knives in that collection of sadistic weaponry.

Number one was shaped like a classic straight dagger, but the sides were razored with biting teeth that scared the hell out of me. I couldn't imagine such a instrument invading my body, ripping, cutting, slicing, causing red liquid to spasm out of the wound like a geyser of cursed flesh. I forced these thoughts out of my mind and swiftly moved my eyes to number two.

This one was curved at a semi circular angle and looked sickeningly like something you would slowly cut someone's throat with. I could imagine that blade slowly opening the skin open at my throat, causing a river of warm blood to flow out of me like a lake of crimson.

The third and final one remained with me in my nightmares to this day and I can still remember the way its wavy and cruelly constructed metal gleamed in the bright clear sun.

It was shaped like slithering snake and looked like something that you would have to get custom, due to its strange and unusually illogical form.

Not the less, it was still a disgustingly intimidating blade that still brings thoughts of screaming, bloody and extremely painful murders to mind.

The images of gore I obtained from these blades were when I had walked in on my father slaughtering the runt of a mother pig. So that what was inspired me to create these images in my head as I let my eyes look over these strange and disgusting weaponry.

I never got the chance to stare in awe at any more of those knifes as the clown had swiftly pulled the overcoat together in a blinding flash.

I looked up at his face in fear and dread.

The smile that had once coated his face in a almost unrealistic fashion had melted away into a more fitting frown.

I slowly climbed off from the fence and returned slowly towards the mud pit, keeping my eyes on that terrible clown.

He held my gaze as he paced slowly backwards into the forestry that swallowed him in green quite quickly.

I remained standing there for a long period of time before I turned swiftly and ran for the farmhouse.

The sun was now making its slow descent into the sky but I didn't play outside for the rest of the day.

I simply sat with my face in my hands, to utterly terrified to move.

I couldn't go and tell my mother or father, both disapproved of my tales of the monster under my bed a few years back so telling them about a clown that was lurking just outside of reach was not a option.

The fear had rubbed off by dinner time and I soon thought nothing of the incident.

By the next morning the incident had slipped my mind almost completely, however I made sure to stay away from the woods from that day forward.

That's what I loved about the child's mind. All the events follow a time line and all the memories are plastered into one, so you can only sometimes recall these blurred images on command even just mere hours after the incident. You didn't really understand the concept of danger of fear in the way adults tend to, so you brush things off rather easily. That's the way I liked it. However sometimes when a similar incident happens down the road, the images stop being blurred and morph into one clear picture, that you wish you could un see.

If you do not understand, don't worry, you soon will.

The days and weeks flew by like grains of sand in the wind. And harvest time was finally approaching.

I would like to say those weeks were spent innocently and happily enough but that would be a blunt lie.

And seeing as I am trying to stick with the truth for this story that would contradict my intentions.

So, those few weeks were not spent in a peaceful summer haze as it should have.

Instead they were marked by dread, uncertainty, grief and finally, fear.

After around three days of the strange clown sighting, I awoke with a start in my bedroom.

I cannot recall if I had awoken at the hands of a violent nightmare or some other sleep thing but I remember the unconvincing fear that awoke me in a pool of unwelcome sweat.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. I peered around eagerly, attempting to unmask the source of my un relentless fear and to not avail. I could see nothing.

The moon light shining in form the one window of my room provided no avail to aiding me in my desperate search.

The moonlight coming in from the window coated the floor in a square shape and was tinted with a unusual tinge of orange.

Just as I noticed the unusual colour that did not mix with the normal grey moon colour there was a loud THUMP!

I felt a sharp pain volt me as adrenaline surged through my veins in a violent push for survival.

I peered around eagerly attempting to locate the source of this new sound and mentally kicked myself for not recognizing the sound of the noisy furnace kicking in.

I relaxed a little at this, and thoughts of sleep were now returning to my head and I slowly began to drift again.

That's when I recalled the strange orange tint of light.

I pried open my eyes and looked around to the square of light on the floor.

There was still a light, almost unnoticeable tint of the damn orange.

I quietly got out of bed and looked outside the window, fearing for the very worst.

I saw nothing but a glowing light that appeared to be coming from the tree line of that cursed forest.

To the naked eye, it appeared to be nothing more then a glowing orange orb, carefully held in place by a unknown force.

I eagerly searched for my pair of junior binoculars that appeared to be at the very bottom of a toy chest painted red.

I found them after a hurried and rather messy search.

The instant I had obtained this valuable item that would help me search out information the menace that was the unexplainable orange light.

I went over to the window and glued the binoculars to my eager and curious eyes.

In instant I had adjusted the lenses to fit with the distance of the light, a sudden jolt of electricity went down my spine in a confusing wave.

I slowly put down the binoculars with my shaky and sweaty hands, trying to keep my breathing under control with various methods of self meditation.

All failed.

I slowly crawled from the window so I was no longer at risk of being spotted by... him.

I reviewed the image that the advantaged sight that the binoculars had given me with inside my head.

The clown was back.

The instant my eyes met with the lens that provided me with a closer look on the strange light I saw him.

The clown was staring at me.

He was holding up a very old fashioned oil lamp just at the edge of the forest.

His excellent makeup was cast in a orange glow that provided a even more eerie effect on his appearance.

The greasy shiny substance that coated his face reflected the light at some angle that were unusual and disturbing to say the least.

I honestly could not tell, however if he was staring at me and seeing me, or if it was a absent blank stare.

He face held the same melted frown that had ridden his face when the knifes were revealed to my innocent eyes that moment just days ago.

I crawled carefully into bed, the image of the menacing monster burnt into my mind that night.

By the time I had awoken again, dawn was just creeping into the sky, waving its beams of light throughout the land.

I paced quietly to the window that had allowed me to see the clown.

No one was in sight of the trees, with the exception of three ugly crows, just flying in a wide circle just above the trees beside the house.

I sighed with relief thinking that it was all a dream.

But the next few weeks were... interesting to say the least.

Unfortunately, I had not merely dreamed about the clown, as I saw the creature lurking around the property almost on a nightly basis.

He didn't seem to move to close to the house, thank god, and he didn't seem eager to do any immediate harm to my family, however he seemed to be biding his time, waiting for the ideal time to strike on my house.

The best analogy I can think of to describe it better is like when you go to the window of one of the various shops around town, looking at that one item you want, however you're just missing a few dollars.

So you wait, sometimes taunting yourself with the occasional peek at the item through the glass pane, waiting until you can buy it.

In a single word summary: Anticipation.

The clown was anticipating what he was going to do to me and my family.

I rarely saw the clown during the daytime however when my parents were in the house or attending to a chore on the other side of the property, the clown would sometimes venture out from beneath the forest and tempt me into my fate.

I only run to the house and wait for the bastard to leave.

My sister was stricken with a very bad case of summer cold the morning after my first nighttime encounter so she was bed ridden for those few weeks of that God awful clown stalking me about the farm.

This was just a summary of what happened after the first nighttime encounter, but I want to keep things moving along, and besides, those weeks were very repetitive as it was, so I would rather not dwell on that boring couple weeks.

You probably are now waiting for a juicy part, and don't worry, it's well on its way. So just bare with me, ok?

My sister was now feeling well enough to argue, so naturally, that's exactly what we did.

I was playing eagerly and happily in my second favourite mud hole (as the first one had proved to be to close to the forest) when my sister came around behind me.

She was obviously in one of her 'moods' judging from the red anger that showed violently on her face when I looked around to her.

'You play in the mud like a disgusting pig!' She giggled then stuck out her tongue at me, taunting a response.

I simply could not resist.

'Oh yeah, snot face? You should've seen how much boogers you made in that bed. And you call me sick?' I retorted.

She sniffled her nose, forcing the large booger that had inspired my attack farther up her nose.

She decided to take the bait.

'Really? You disgust me! Playing your stupid army games with your stupid army men! Your not a fighter you know that right? You would lose in a real fight!'

Anger surged through my veins and I desperately attempted to stop myself from crafting a roundish mud ball and launching it into her smug little face, but failed.

The first one sailed past her face by a good 30 centimetres and hit the ground with a gross SPPPLOP!

Her face froze in a icy glare of 'you wouldn't dare'

'I would make a poor fighter would I?' I taunted, crafting a second mud ball with ease and a third just in case I needed back up.

This put her into a panic, and she made a mad dash towards the house where our parents would protect her.

The summer cold had weakened her bones however, so I was at her speed now. I dashed after her with ease and aimed the mud ball high, ready for surrender. She kept going towards the house though, so I was forced to yell a 'STOP!' to get her to surrender.

She turned around to me beside a mud hole and collapsed on her hands and knees, panting heavily.

I wanted to saviour the moment, I mean it wasn't often I had the option of obtaining a victory against her.

She appeared to be in great pain, and began coughing violently as I approached her.

All thoughts of the battle exited my mind in a sudden flash as I realized that she was in great pain.

'Clara?' I asked nervously, abandoning my stash of mud weaponry and approaching her with deep concern in my eyes.

She raised her head to look me in the eyes, a steady river of drool coming out of her mouth.

'Are you-' I didn't even have time to finish as she grabbed my head and slapped a whopping handful of mud onto the front of my head with a SPPOLP!

I muttered in protest as she whispered 'tricked you' into my ear with a satisfactory tone of voice.

She then shoved me to the ground, and I watched her jog away at a slow pace away from the house, encouraging me follow with mocking gestures.

I was still stunned by the sudden dampness of the mud that had coated itself in a nice layer of grime onto my face.

Dirty, yucky, and salty tastes and smells squeezed their way into my mouth and nose as struggle to regain my footing.

Once I was standing I ran for Clara, who was prancing without a care laughing with happiness after the success of her trick.

I ran right after her, and the moment I realized where we were running I stopped dead in my tracks.

Clara, however was still jogging towards the thick branches and a barb wired fence.

I veered off and hid in a rogue bush that was nearby.

Clara continued her approach until she made it to the barb wired fence.

She then looked around for me and called my name a few times.

She jumped as a branch snapped just beyond the tree line.

Now, before you start accusing me of not even attempting to protect my sister I was not even ten. I could barely understand the world around me quite yet, and well I understood cause and effect, I still was lacking the knowledge to understand that different things could come out of the same incident.

I thought that the clown was going to appear and then the knifes would appear and my sister would get scared and run off. I didn't realize that somethings far worse could happen in my hazy, angry and young mind.

I continued to watch in horror as the clown made his presence known quite well by walking out into the open.

Although the clown seemed too be a lot more happy in this case and greeted my sister with a cheerful 'hello!' and the conversation began much like the one I had with the clown.

The conversation turned to the invite to the carnival.

My sister could never say no to a adult. And it turned out to be her fatal flaw.

I gritted my teeth in suspense as I watched Clara reply with a happy 'yes!'

She then began climbing the fence.

But the knifes didn't come out.

At least not yet.

I knew something was wrong the instant Clara clambered over the fence in her muddy overalls and followed the clown into the forest.

I was going to go tell my mother what was going on, as feelings of mixed dread and confusion swarmed over me.

That's when the screaming began.

I don't mean like childish 'give me attention screams' I mean painful, heart wrenching screams of agony and awful physical suffering.

Clara was in great pain.

I ran for the house in a state of panic, my eyes filling up with tears of anguish as the screams continued throughout my travel to the house.

I met my mother and father three quarters of a way there.

'What the hell is going on?' My father roared with anger.

I was in near hysterics, and the dreading screaming continued to erode my mental health as my father shook me by the shoulders vigorously.

'I said, what the hell is going on!?'

I remember muttering something about a man taking Clara into the woods.

I collapsed to the ground in a pathetic slump.

My father told me to go to the house with mom, and my mother would get to on one of the horses (we didn't own a car) to get help for the neighbour that lived 5 kilometres away from us or the police as this was in the days before phones or cars, so beside horses, we had no communication with the outside world. My dad went inside and grabbed a double barrel shotgun, telling me to stay put in the house and not to let and strangers into the house. He was going to the forest to investigate. I meekly nodded and went to couch before going into shock completely.

The next few hours are a complete blur in my mind.

As I said before, I was in real shock and I failed to register any of the armed farmers entering the house and the forest, or the fact that the police showed up in the late evening searching the forest with great amount of effort. I don't remember my mother crying in heart wrenching pleas for help, as several friends offered her home cooked remedies to calm her down.

All that ended when my mother swiped at a cup of herbal tea, shattering the mug on the carpet with a crunch. The crowd left after the police arrived.

I don't remember the police questioning me and I don't remember what the answers I gave were, I don't remember anything.

Anything besides the images of the knifes that appeared in my mind at all times.

They would clash with photos of my dear sister Clara and even more tears would find themselves on my cheeks.

By the time I could function as a normal human being, the police had found no trace of neither the 'man' I had described in basic detail not of Clara.

After a few months they had to turn their eyes to cases that seemed more possible to solve so we returned to our normal lives as best as we could.

But damn, it was hard living at the very same place where your own sister had disappeared into a forest because of a clown. It was unnerving and displeasing.

We soon sold the property and made our way into the city, attempting to rebuild our lives in a city 90 kilometres away from the farm.

But I'll never forget the last day I was at I was at the house.

I wanted to check out that place one last time. The place where I had last seen Clara.

I passed by the bush where I had hidden and I looked at the fence.

No clown demon thing popped out or anything, so I sighed heavily and turned away to walk back.

There was a scurry of feet and snapping of twigs behind me and I hurriedly looked around.

I jumped and scampered a few paces back in fear. The clown was back.

But this time his appeared to have a companion. The companion was the only thing that stopped me from running.

She had goofy red dyed hair and white and black facial makeup identical to the one that the clown wore. She had a large toothy grin. She wore wooden floppy shows three times her size. She wore a goofy poke a dot dress with rainbow dots. She wore a large purple hat with a daisy stuck in a band on it. She was the perfect representation of a stereo typical female clown.

She looked to be about ten years old.