by Matt Drabble
Richie could see the soft lighting glinting on the tiger’s fangs and he realised that he was holding his breath. He could see the shimmering muscles under the animal’s fur. Their power was undeniable and he could picture them racing through the jungle undergrowth tracking their prey. For the first time he suddenly realised that his attention had been diverted from his terror and he wondered if the night was not going to end in the worst possible way.
After the tigers came a procession of stunning white horses adorned with silver bells and tassels. The horses trotted around the centre stage with riders standing on their backs. The performers leapt from horse to horse with amazing dexterity and grace to the ooo’s and ahh’s of the audience.
Richie was starting to enjoy the show and he also started to relax. He looked up to see his mother smiling at him gently and for the moment he forgot her betrayal. He started to wonder if he was being nothing but a baby after all.
The horses gave way to a stunning acrobatic display by the “Daring Dragons”, a trapeze family who soared overhead without a safety net. Richie was fascinated by the acrobats as they flipped somersaults in the air before reaching out and grabbing handles with perfect timing.
His father bought cotton candy from a vender who mingled in the audience and Richie found his appetite return.
He was munching his way through the giant pink fluff when the speakers began to pipe out a merry tune. The music was fast and jaunty and he found his hand falling halfway to his mouth.
Several spotlights beamed down onto the centre stage as a small toy looking car emerged into the light. The doors fell open and a long leg stretched out wearing baggy floral trousers. Richie felt the sugary food roll over in his stomach as the clown emerged. People began to laugh around him as the clown stood on stilts beneath his trousers with impossibly long legs to have fit in the car. A second clown began to exit the small car, only this one was short and very round. He wore huge dungarees with rainbow suspenders and a bright yellow sunflower pinned to his chest. A third clown, this time female and a fourth soon exited from the car and people began to clap as the clowns started to circle the stage.
They began to tumble and roll, performing complex and difficult acrobatics considering their outfits. Two of the clowns started to juggle brightly colored bowling pins between them as they circled whilst a third managed to get himself stuck between them. The audience laughed as the stuck clown started to mime panic as the pins flew past his head. There were buckets of sloshing water that inexplicably turned into confetti as the clown stumbled forward and the front row prepared for a soaking that never came. There were balloon animals for some of the younger crowd and pratfalls and custard pies.
Richie sat glued to his seat and prayed for the act to be over. The clowns finally looked to be winding down he sighed heavily with relief. Their seats were several rows up and far away from the front where the clowns seemed to be choosing people to interact with. His relief however was short lived as the clowns suddenly broke into four different directions and headed into the audience.
Richie wanted to pray, to run, to beg his mother to take him out, but he could do nothing. He felt the inevitability as the fat clown came up their aisle. His father was sitting on the outside of the row and Richie was between his parents. The fat clown drew closer and was exaggeratedly staring into the crowd looking for a volunteer. Richie could see several other children and a few parents looking a little nervous and for once he didn’t feel alone.
The clown’s face was bright, white and clean shaven. A red painted smile ran all the way up to the man’s ears and he wore a sparkling yellow wig under a round bowler hat. He had squirted several people with his sunflower on the way up the aisle to squeals of laughter. Richie sat terrified as the clown reached him. He could see across the seating stand to the one next to theirs that the clowns were selecting children and bringing them to the stage. He knew that he was going to be chosen; he just knew that the clown was going to pick him - there was no other possible outcome. He closed his eyes and waited for the padded glove to grab his shoulder, but it never came.
The clown walked past his row and moved behind him, squirting smiling faces as he went. Richie couldn’t believe his luck, there seemed to be no other possible outcome than the clown choosing him. why else was he here?
He started to feel the tension shift from around his throat and his breathing began to slow. His heart beat normally again and was no longer pounding hard against his chest. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry with relief, and he wanted to embrace his narrow escape. He was starting to feel pretty foolish when his father shattered his world.
“Here, over here!” His father called after the clown. “I’ve got an eager volunteer right here,” he said standing up and shouting.
Richie wanted to scream as the clown turned and smiled. He knew that the man’s makeup was painted in a warm and friendly smile, but the expression looked carnivorous and hungry to Richie’s eye. The clown wore some kind of contact lenses as his eyes were tinged with red.
The clown laughed without a sound and he threw his head back and his fat body rippled with the silent laughter. The padded white glove clamped down on Richie’s arm and pulled him forward. Richie wanted to fight and tried to pull away, but he felt his father’s hands pushing him forward. He was only a small skinny boy and the large clown had pulled him halfway down the aisle before he had even realised what was happening. His heart was in his mouth as he was dragged into the centre stage and beneath a scalding spotlight.
Everything ran in a strange hazy slow motion as the clowns frolicked around him. They danced with exaggerated motions and wild hand gestures. The other three children laughed riotously as one of the clowns brought out a giant ring. The man dragged the hoop through the air and huge bubbles lifted into the air. A small girl on stage ran forward and the clown dropped the hoop over her head and she was suddenly encased in a giant bubble. The audience clapped wildly as the girl lifted a few feet into the air as she pressed her palms against the transparent shimmering bubble. The tall clown on stilts brought out a miniature high wire that was suspended about a foot off of the ground and he led a small boy along it amid wild whoops and hollers from the audience. The boy looked younger than Richie and he seemed to lap up the attention taking a pronounced bow at the end of the wire.
All the while the fat clown held Richie’s hand in a vice like grip and Richie felt that he couldn’t have run even if he’d been able to. His legs were like jelly and the lights were blinding. The faces in the audience were mocking laughter all directed at him; a coliseum gathered to watch his glorified end.
Richie looked up at the clown who held his arm. It was tough to tell where the man’s costume and makeup ended and where the real man beneath began.
The third child, a boisterous girl with swinging pigtails and a bright emerald hair band was throwing rubber chickens into a juggling mix that including a bowling pin, a melon, and an egg. The female clown was showing incredible concentration as the items span through the air and one of the clowns pretended to tickle her. Eventually she caught the items one after the other and handed the rubber chicken to the girl, but as she took the novelty toy it suddenly became a real chicken and began squawking and clucking. The girl dropped the bird and it waddled away drunkenly.
Suddenly all four clowns turned his way. Their painted eyes bore into his and every expression looked evil and hungry. Their red slashed mouths and slanted eyebrows looked like they were ready to eat him whole while the audience cheered on. He desperately tried to hold onto his bladder control and his reedy body trembled as they approached. He could no longer hear the crowd, only his own thudding heart.
The tall clown reached behind him and grinned manically. The other two clowns joined their tall companion and they all reached their hands around behind their backs. They walked forward with an elongated slow stride, one foot after the other closing the distance. Richie found what little courage he owned and started to squirm under the fa
t clown’s tight grip. He shot his foot backwards and dragged his heel down the clown’s shin just as the other three reached him.
“Oww! Jesus kid,” the fat clown exclaimed as the other three suddenly threw custard pies with expert precision.
The sound of the man’s perfectly normal, if a little wheezy voice startled Richie and all of a sudden the spell was broken. He heard the audience laugh as the pies flew over his head and splattered against the fat clown’s now pained expression.
Richie looked around at the fat man wearing baggy dungarees and white makeup. He was starting to wonder if his father had been right after all. His fear was palpable, but the clowns up this close were just performers with sweat stains and body odour. The fat man was now looking at him with ill-disguised anger as he limped away.
Richie allowed himself to be rounded up with the other children as they took their bow centre stage. His arms were laden with balloon animals, candy, a poster and other souvenirs before he was led back to his seat.
He found his parents waiting for him. His mother’s face was crinkled with worry but his father’s was alive with smug satisfaction. Richie hated the idea that his father’s plan night have worked. The clowns were nothing to fear, just people in costumes who presumably put their giant pants on one leg at a time after all. Or at least these ones were, but was every clown the same?
“I told you it would be fine,” he heard his father say to his mother.
“Yes dear,” his mother replied demurely.
The rest of the show passed off with many thrills. There were elephants and a fire breather, as well as a contortionist that his father seemed particularly interested in and a further variety of acrobats. Richie found himself enjoying the show and even managed a smile when the clown troupe made another appearance during a knife throwing act. But soon enough it was over and they stood with the crowd and applauded wildly. Finally after the lights came up they began to file their way out through the throng of happy parents and tiring children.
“So have we finally got that nonsense out of your system?” His father asked leaning over.
“I’m sure that everything is fine now,” his mother interjected in an appeasing tone.
Richie nodded as his father ignored his mother’s comment. “Yes sir,” he said dutifully, if not completely honestly.
“Good,” his father added curtly.
They rode the wave of people back out into the cold night air. The temperature had dropped considerably and Richie wished that he had worn a thicker coat.
“Michael?” A voice called out from the darkness.
Richie turned to see a balding man striding across the grass.
“Dammit, it’s my supervisor,” his father whispered to his mother irritably. “Put a smile on your face for Christ’s sake,” he snapped. “Richie go and play some games for a while,” he said thrusting a few crisp notes into Richie’s hand.
“Mr. Belding,” Richie heard his father greet the man as he headed into the small carnival.
It was weird to hear his father speaking in warm almost subservient tones. He had only ever known him to be a man of rules and discipline.
He wandered off into the dwindling crowd as most were making their way back to the parking area and home. He tried some of the games but even at his tender age he knew that they were a waste of money. Bright stuffed animals hung on hooks close enough to touch but forever out of reach.
He wandered through the carnival and found himself towards the brightly decorated train carriages that the circus travelled in. The cars were red and gold and emblazoned with the “Haley’s Comet” name. He noticed the sudden strong aroma of hay and animals. The tigers in the circus had caught his eye with their magnificent colours and sleek power.
He headed towards the smell and found a carriage with gold bars and a tiger inside. Up this close he felt hypnotized by the creature. It paced back and forth before it settled down on a pile of clean looking hay with a huge yawn. Richie looked on in astonishment as the tiger’s massive jaws gaped open. The tiger’s pink tongue lolled around its vicious looking fangs. He found himself walking forward to the cage transfixed by the animal.
Suddenly the tiger sensed his alien presence and sprang forward. It crashed against the bars and let out a monstrous roar. With the permanent guilty conscience of a 12 year old Richie ran away as the sound of rushing footsteps approached. He ran towards the back of the parked carriages and away from public eyes.
When he stopped he found himself amongst simpler abodes. These carriages were less garishly painted and not meant for display. They were camper vans and caravans for the performers presumably and many had seen better days.
When he stopped running he found himself outside of an old Winnebago set behind the rest of the vehicles. He leant against the side and tried to get his bearings. He felt the camper move suddenly as someone inside lurched to one side. His feelings of guilt were soon overtaken by his inquisitiveness. He crept to the window and stood on tiptoes to peer in through.
The inside was dark and ratty curtains were drawn against the outside. There was a small gap between the netting and he could just make out a silhouette. The face turned and Richie saw the fat clown from earlier still in full makeup. For some reason the man looked angry at his intrusion. He thought that he had caught sight of a flash of something familiar in the corner of his eye. For a split second he was reminded of the girl with the pigtails plucked from the audience earlier. She had been wearing a bright emerald green hair band and he thought that the clown had snatched something green up off of the counter. The man’s face might have still been painted with heavy makeup, but his expression bubbled with anger and perhaps just a little fear.
Richie turned to run again but the female clown suddenly stepped into his path.
“Easy there sonny,” she said softly. “Don’t you know that it’s rude to go peeking into other people’s windows?”
“I’m s-s-s-sorry,” Richie stammered eager to get away, something felt very, very wrong here. “I think that I got turned around and lost.”
“I should say so,” the female clown whispered.
Richie could see that the female clown was also still wearing her full makeup despite the show being over some time ago. In the open air and away from the spotlights her makeup seemed somehow less false and more natural.
The door to the Winnebago suddenly flew open and the fat clown stood there with a towel robe barely covering his modesty. The big man was out of uniform but still fully made up; even his red nose was still in place and he held a tumbler of alcohol in his fat paw.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” The fat clown slurred as he spilt some of his drink.
“This kid was snooping,” the female clown answered.
“Don’t I know you?” The fat clown asked Richie. “Wait a minute aren’t you the little puke that kicked me during the show? Sure you are,” he said smiling cruelly.
Richie stood there, held by the female clown unable to get away. He really didn’t like the way that the fat clown was slowly looking him over up and down. “I’d better find my parents, they’ll be worried about me,” he said quietly.
“Well I’m not sure that anyone is going to find you,” the fat clown laughed. “Bring him inside,” he ordered as he turned away.
“Is that such a good idea,” the female clown asked nervously.
The fat clown turned around and withered her with a look that froze Richie’s blood. He found himself bundled into the Winnebago and the door closed behind him sealing him from the outside world. The female clown had stayed outside and left him to his fate.
“What did you see?” the fat clown demanded as he settled his bulk into a creaking armchair, all the while never taking his eyes off of Richie.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Richie answered as he backed into a chair facing the clown.
“Yes you do you little snot, you were spying through my window and you saw something, it’s written all over your face.
”
Richie noticed a strange and pungent odour in the camper and his nose wrinkled in displeasure. There was a choking sweet smell of artificial air fresheners that barely masked something rotten underneath. He thought of the emerald green hair band that he thought he’d seen through the window, and the girl that it had belonged to.
The fat clown sat opposite Richie and his girth spilled over his pants. He wore a ratty looking white vest that had seen better days and came complete with various stains of indeterminate origin. The clown’s eyes were heavy with either tiredness or the booze that he was continually sloshing into his glass held in a still gloved hand. “You look at me funny,” he slurred. “Up on stage, you kept looking at me weird like you were really seeing me.”
“I don’t like clowns,” Richie mumbled as his eyes darted towards the door.
“Coulrophobia,” the fat clown replied through a glassy stare. “It’s called Coulrophobia, the fear of clowns,” he explained. “And it’s not altogether unreasonable,” he grinned drunkenly. “Did you know that clowns have been around since the 5th Dynasty in Egypt around 2400 BC? We held important positions and played pivotal roles in shaping kingdoms and ruling worlds. But now we are figures of ridicule and derision, reduced to parlor tricks and dancing for the public.”
“What are you saying?” Richie asked, intrigued despite his concerns.
“I’m saying that my people have been forced to degrade themselves for the pity of a few silver coins. Where once we ruled, now we serve and wallow in the mud. Entertaining children?” He spat angrily. “We find ourselves forced to dance on the strings of puppet masters instead of sitting at the right hands of kings and emperors.”
Richie eased himself towards the edge of his seat as the fat clown’s attention seemed to drift. He wanted desperately to make a break for the door and away from the rambling clown.
“Sit down boy,” the clown commanded. “You’re not going anywhere, not ever again.”
Richie found tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he stared into the round white moon face of the fat clown. “What do you want with me?” He asked quietly.
