Clowns
Posted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 2:40 am
A little tidbit from my personal archives. I am actually not too sure what to think about this one, honestly. For a long time I have debated posting this story, so (for good or bad) here goes...
***
Circus clowns follow me down the corridor through the alley of the carnival, flashing blades wielded in their gloved hands. I hurriedly duck into the house of mirrors, trying to lose them in the multiple images posted on the walls.
Then I realize my mistake...clowns everywhere, like a nightmare incarnate, a carnival of horror directed at my expense. I lose track of where the exit is, and am lost among the hundreds of mirrors in the hall.
Feeling my way among the panels, I am frantically looking for a way out...but after every turn, more clowns. Their sinister grins showing the malice within, buried behind the makeup and funny clothes that all children love to see. Thousands of clowns are now staring at me, and undoubtably one of the many images in my view is a tangible being, waiting for the moment to strike...the jagged edge of it's blade directed at the center of my heart, waiting to take the last breath of life from my soul, leaving me a lifeless form...lying still with the pool of blood still warm beneath my souless body.
Maybe it's just the desperation of the situation, or just foolish bravery spurned by the adrenaline rush created by my fear, but I break down the corridor, praying for the exit to appear before me. As I rush through my mirrored nightmare, I feel the hands trying to grasp me...see the silver glint of steel in the dim light, slashing at me as I run and pray for escape.
And then...appearing before me, as I imagine an angel would appear before a dying disciple of a god, I see escape, the light at the end of the hallway. I feel as though I might almost make it to the exit, might almost feel the fresh air and neon lights from the boardwalk on my sweat drenched face...but I also feel the breath of my relentless pursuers on the back of my neck...can hear their footsteps racing behind mine, and I feel as if I am losing ground to the demons behind me.
But then...I break out into the pitch black night, and realize (to my horror) that there is nobody there. Nobody in the literal sense of the word. No vendors, no children wailing to their parents for more cotton candy or one last ride on the ferris wheel. Just total emptiness, the grounds totally devoid of the life that would normally populate the fairway of a carnival such as this. Defeatedly, I must admit that I am alone. Whatever cruel god that has put this twisted fate upon me has decided that I must suffer it alone. But give up, I cannot do. The desire to survive this hell on earth supersedes all that common sense will allow, (at least in this point of the game).
The clowns break through the exit of the hall of mirrors, and the chase is on yet again. Desperately I seek haven in the first doorway that I encounter in my flight down the boardwalk. Momentarily it seems as if I have lost them, and I hold my breath in anticipation, the fear of discovery surpassing the immediate need for oxygen. As I try to make myself one within the shadows that I sulk in, deeming that it is safe (at least for the moment), I soak in the atmosphere of my new surroundings. There are spider webs on the walls, black lights hanging from the ceilings, images of ghouls, ghosts and goblins in the shadows hiding beside...as if they too are seeking to avoid the eyes that hunt from without.
From the corner of my sight, at the extreme peripheral of my vision, I see movement...a subtle transition from one point to the next, a methodical path working towards my safe haven. I see the glint of steel winking at me in the surreal light thrown from the black light luminescense. As I work my way through the shadows, away from my pursuer, finally a glimmer of hope flares within, for possibly my luck might fare for the better. Lying in the dark against the wall is a suit of armor, an effect for the atmosphere of this house of horrors, with it's head carried under it's left arm. But more importantly, an ancient sword in it's gauntlet covered hands.
I pry the blade away from it's cold grip, and at last I have a way to strike back at my relentless antagonizers. I feign unawareness to my silent adversary, and as it steps into range I thrust the blade forward. I feel the blade hit home, not so much by the feel of the blade in my hand and the slight resitance of the flesh before it, but more by the spray of warm fluid running down my hand, and the sound of the lifeless body sliding to the waiting floor below. And so it is lost in the shadows, hopefully never to be seen again. How many attackers there are, I cannot say...but at least I know now that there is one less to torment me.
I back my way further down the dark path before me and enter a crypt, a tomb littered with corpses and skeletons throughout, and three coffins scattered in random fashion within. An unexplainable fear comes over me, for a premonition of death emenates from within this room. The three coffins start to open up, and rising up from the coffins are more clowns. From their mouths echo an eerie chorus of laughter, and it sounds as if all of the figures within the tomb are joining with them at their behest.
Sword still in my hand, a rage starts to come over me. All caution is forsaken at this point. The effects of the chase are no longer fear and horror, but anger and vengeance. Anger and vengeance directed at those who have antagonized me to this point. Swinging the blade wildly, I charge at the first clown, and before it can gather it's defenses, it's head lay there at it's side. The roar of the laughter still rises to a higher pitch, deafening my ears as it echoes off the walls within the tomb.
Yet oblivious to my surroundings, I fight on. The two remaining clowns approach me, now cautious. I bend down and grab the knife of their fallen comrade, and acting with reflexes seemingly not my own, the blade flies through the air into the throat of the nearest assailant. The gurgling sound of the blade in it's throat sends shivers down my spine...but now there is but one tormenter left before me.
As I prepare myself for the my final conflict, my luck then comes to a halt, for the footing beneath me has become deadly, and I slip to the ground in a pool of blood on the floor below. Seeing it's opportunity, the last clown dives at me, the blade brandished in it's hand directed at my heart. I somehow manage to deflect the attack with my forearm, and the blinding pain shoots through my body as the blade slices through my flesh.
Now weak from exhaustion and pain, the fear and desperation of my plight consumes me, and I am unable to defend myself from the final death blow. The clown now grins uncontrollably as it drives the blade through my heart. As I fade into the afterlife, the last image that I see is that of the clown removing it's mask, revealing to me it's true identity...and I can only ask...
Why???
***
Circus clowns follow me down the corridor through the alley of the carnival, flashing blades wielded in their gloved hands. I hurriedly duck into the house of mirrors, trying to lose them in the multiple images posted on the walls.
Then I realize my mistake...clowns everywhere, like a nightmare incarnate, a carnival of horror directed at my expense. I lose track of where the exit is, and am lost among the hundreds of mirrors in the hall.
Feeling my way among the panels, I am frantically looking for a way out...but after every turn, more clowns. Their sinister grins showing the malice within, buried behind the makeup and funny clothes that all children love to see. Thousands of clowns are now staring at me, and undoubtably one of the many images in my view is a tangible being, waiting for the moment to strike...the jagged edge of it's blade directed at the center of my heart, waiting to take the last breath of life from my soul, leaving me a lifeless form...lying still with the pool of blood still warm beneath my souless body.
Maybe it's just the desperation of the situation, or just foolish bravery spurned by the adrenaline rush created by my fear, but I break down the corridor, praying for the exit to appear before me. As I rush through my mirrored nightmare, I feel the hands trying to grasp me...see the silver glint of steel in the dim light, slashing at me as I run and pray for escape.
And then...appearing before me, as I imagine an angel would appear before a dying disciple of a god, I see escape, the light at the end of the hallway. I feel as though I might almost make it to the exit, might almost feel the fresh air and neon lights from the boardwalk on my sweat drenched face...but I also feel the breath of my relentless pursuers on the back of my neck...can hear their footsteps racing behind mine, and I feel as if I am losing ground to the demons behind me.
But then...I break out into the pitch black night, and realize (to my horror) that there is nobody there. Nobody in the literal sense of the word. No vendors, no children wailing to their parents for more cotton candy or one last ride on the ferris wheel. Just total emptiness, the grounds totally devoid of the life that would normally populate the fairway of a carnival such as this. Defeatedly, I must admit that I am alone. Whatever cruel god that has put this twisted fate upon me has decided that I must suffer it alone. But give up, I cannot do. The desire to survive this hell on earth supersedes all that common sense will allow, (at least in this point of the game).
The clowns break through the exit of the hall of mirrors, and the chase is on yet again. Desperately I seek haven in the first doorway that I encounter in my flight down the boardwalk. Momentarily it seems as if I have lost them, and I hold my breath in anticipation, the fear of discovery surpassing the immediate need for oxygen. As I try to make myself one within the shadows that I sulk in, deeming that it is safe (at least for the moment), I soak in the atmosphere of my new surroundings. There are spider webs on the walls, black lights hanging from the ceilings, images of ghouls, ghosts and goblins in the shadows hiding beside...as if they too are seeking to avoid the eyes that hunt from without.
From the corner of my sight, at the extreme peripheral of my vision, I see movement...a subtle transition from one point to the next, a methodical path working towards my safe haven. I see the glint of steel winking at me in the surreal light thrown from the black light luminescense. As I work my way through the shadows, away from my pursuer, finally a glimmer of hope flares within, for possibly my luck might fare for the better. Lying in the dark against the wall is a suit of armor, an effect for the atmosphere of this house of horrors, with it's head carried under it's left arm. But more importantly, an ancient sword in it's gauntlet covered hands.
I pry the blade away from it's cold grip, and at last I have a way to strike back at my relentless antagonizers. I feign unawareness to my silent adversary, and as it steps into range I thrust the blade forward. I feel the blade hit home, not so much by the feel of the blade in my hand and the slight resitance of the flesh before it, but more by the spray of warm fluid running down my hand, and the sound of the lifeless body sliding to the waiting floor below. And so it is lost in the shadows, hopefully never to be seen again. How many attackers there are, I cannot say...but at least I know now that there is one less to torment me.
I back my way further down the dark path before me and enter a crypt, a tomb littered with corpses and skeletons throughout, and three coffins scattered in random fashion within. An unexplainable fear comes over me, for a premonition of death emenates from within this room. The three coffins start to open up, and rising up from the coffins are more clowns. From their mouths echo an eerie chorus of laughter, and it sounds as if all of the figures within the tomb are joining with them at their behest.
Sword still in my hand, a rage starts to come over me. All caution is forsaken at this point. The effects of the chase are no longer fear and horror, but anger and vengeance. Anger and vengeance directed at those who have antagonized me to this point. Swinging the blade wildly, I charge at the first clown, and before it can gather it's defenses, it's head lay there at it's side. The roar of the laughter still rises to a higher pitch, deafening my ears as it echoes off the walls within the tomb.
Yet oblivious to my surroundings, I fight on. The two remaining clowns approach me, now cautious. I bend down and grab the knife of their fallen comrade, and acting with reflexes seemingly not my own, the blade flies through the air into the throat of the nearest assailant. The gurgling sound of the blade in it's throat sends shivers down my spine...but now there is but one tormenter left before me.
As I prepare myself for the my final conflict, my luck then comes to a halt, for the footing beneath me has become deadly, and I slip to the ground in a pool of blood on the floor below. Seeing it's opportunity, the last clown dives at me, the blade brandished in it's hand directed at my heart. I somehow manage to deflect the attack with my forearm, and the blinding pain shoots through my body as the blade slices through my flesh.
Now weak from exhaustion and pain, the fear and desperation of my plight consumes me, and I am unable to defend myself from the final death blow. The clown now grins uncontrollably as it drives the blade through my heart. As I fade into the afterlife, the last image that I see is that of the clown removing it's mask, revealing to me it's true identity...and I can only ask...
Why???
