Random Little Stories

Memories of Monochromatic Clowns

I was always a very strange child. Growing up, I wasn't...afraid of the typical things. The dark made me unbelievably comfortable, I couldn't sleep with...any lights on. I didn't fear ruins or old buildings,storms soothed my mind. Insects and spiders, snakes and frogs...they only made me happy. In fact, I kept a small jumping spider in my window sill in my room and occasionally I fed him flies.

So antique stores were places I loved, because I loved making up stories for things that I didn't have stories for. I enjoyed semi plausible stories for things, basing them mostly in reality with fantastical elements. Yeah, I was a strange child.

Keeping this in mind, it wasn't strange for my dreams to place me in weird places. Drop me in old buildings or ruins or fields or forests and just kinda let me go explore. Hell, in reality I would totally be an urban explorer if I wasn't scared shitless when I was younger exploring an old trailer and got the cops called on me. At the time I was to young to understand it was illegal, I thought since no one lived there it meant no one owned it so it was ok.

Anyways,back on track. It wasn't in any way odd when I woke up in my dream to find myself in, what looked like, an abandon carnival. You must realize I don't have nightmares often. In fact, dreams that start like horror movies usually end up being the most fun for me. This was normal for my little brain to come up with, and I excitedly started exploring. I couldn't tell if everything was faded due to time...or if everything was intentionally black and white. I remember finding this a bit weird. The whole carnival was gray. None of the rides look too rusted...relatively well used, sure, but not rusted. All the tents looked old, and years hadn't been as kind to them as they were the rides. They had rips and tears throughout, and all of them were frayed at the bottom from years of wind sliding them against the baron and rocky soil.

The carnival games had plenty of prizes, and yet...they had no one manning them. The tents were all mostly empty as well. Many had parts for rides or games, some had old food carts. One of them had a cotton candy machine in the middle which had, apparently, gone haywire. Swirls of cotton candy filled the whole tent like spider webs and...it seemed spiders had taken to using it as an actual web because there were several of them. Occasionally I would see what I assumed was another child running by, but they all kept their distance from me. Carnival music, like an old music box, filled the air. At the time, I wouldn't have identified the song as I had never owned a Jack-In-The-Box and never would, but now I know it was "Pop Goes the Weasel".

I would eventually come across a booth with stuffed animal prizes. Each of them with stitched up mouths into grins, hung by their necks by thin ropes. Dusty...old...torn apart...I remember realizing that this was meant to scare me, but I had my eyes focused on 1 in particular.It was a creepy version of 1 of my favorite plush toys in real life. A rabbit, this one was faded greens and purples and a dirty white,unlike mine which had vibrant colors. Mine was in tact, of course,but this one was barely together. I wanted him, quite badly, and decided to play this game. I could have easily just taken it, but I usually prefer following the rules. I placed my money on the empty counter and reached over to grab the darts. The classic "pop the balloon" game was something I always struggled with in life, due to my poor aiming skills, but in dreams I have it mastered and quite easily popped 2 balloons out of the 3 darts. Amazingly, the stuffed animal floated down to me, and I quite happily took it before thanking whatever invisible force had given it to me and walking off.

It was at this point that I got the overwhelming feeling of being watched, but I had no idea by what or whom. I figured it was probably the child-like things I mentioned earlier. Looking back at this, I should have been more frightened then I was. Then again, that can be said of...many of my experiences. I suppose growing up surrounded by the paranormal sorda diminishes your fear of it. I wandered this carnival for some time before waking up, none the wiser of where I had been.

Occasionally, throughout the next months I would find myself back there, playing games and carrying my bunny. It wouldn't be till my 4th or 5th visit that I would meet my not-so-imaginary friend.

It would seem curiosity got the better of him, because he had apparently only put me here the 1st time. The other times I had been seeking it out and he decided to allow me in. I don't remember all of our encounters clearly. I was a child, after all, I feel it would be more concerning if I did. I would, however, draw him and talk about the clown in my dreams with some frequency. My parents always assumed I had made him up.

After all, I had made up an entire elaborate story for the monster under my bed and the one in my closet becoming my friends, a somewhat creepy clown didn't seem out of place.

I never had a Jack-in-the-Box because I never needed one. Apparently, according to my mother, my response when they offered to get me one was "why would I want one like that when I already have one to play with when I sleep?"

Eventually I grew up, and I would still visit my clown friend. When I was older I stumbled across something curious...art of a clown that looked quite similar to my clown, and I decided to look into it farther.

It turns out that others knew about Jack, not just me. Others had...far different stories, though. Others seemed quite afraid of my friend.It seemed others...their stories didn't end as well as mine does. My searching for him even after I found his stories seemed to be enough to prove my loyalty...and this is partly responsible for my still being alive.

It would seem to me, the best way to survive is to simply be to interesting to kill. He is, however, responsible for my incredibly specific fear of only the happy clowns and my fierce enjoyment of clowns which are meant to be scary. The main memory that I have of my lovely, black and white, clown friend is him telling me something very specific.

"You should never fear the clowns who wish you harm, because at least we are being honest with ourselves and our intentions. The ones you should fear are the ones who are trying so desperately to be your friend and deceive you. Some of them are so delusional they even believe themselves that they don't mean any one any harm. Those ones are the REALLY scary ones."