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The Performer

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Stilt jester9

Billy didn’t like that street entertainer. He could see him, at the other end of the street, on stilts, and a loose, floaty yellow poncho, with clown makeup on. Why do street entertainers wear clown makeup? Who finds that funny? It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.

“Stop staring, Billy. It’s rude!” hissed his mother, as she pulled him by his hand into another shop.

While he was sitting quietly in that shop while his mom looked around and his dad was dozing off, he couldn’t stop thinking about that creepy street entertainer. The stark white decor of the shop, nor the pop songs playing on the radio could distract from that. He didn’t want to go back out there. For once, he was content to sit in the shop. But all good things must come to an end, and all bad things must come to a beginning. It was time to leave the shop.

The high street was bustling today. People were out in their droves, looking to catch some sales before the shops closed for the day. A lot of buskers and performers and human statues were also out, looking to make a bit of cash themselves.

The three of them were walking in the general direction of the entertainer. Billy didn’t like it. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and showing his discomfort. His mother hissed at him again. No words this time, but the message was clear. He tried his best to control himself, but she still couldn’t take his eyes off the street performer, who was currently juggling whilst still on stilts.

He knew it was creepy, but he also knew that logically he would not have otherwise felt this much dread from a clown on stilts. There was something especially chilling about this particular one. He wanted to look away, yet he couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

It turned to look at him for a brief moment. Only a few seconds did its gaze linger, yet Billy could feel its eyes boring right into him. It knew he knew he found it creepy. At this, it turned away, and Billy was shaking.

“Mommy, I don’t want to go near that clown man. I want to go somewhere else.”

“Honestly, Billy! It’s just a street performer. Now behave yourself in public!”

So Billy kept his fears to himself. His parents neither understood nor wanted to listen. That was reasonable. In their position, he wouldn’t either. The chill down his spine when he looked at the street performer must only be affecting him. To everyone else, it was just another street performer.

It was starting to walk their way, and he tensed. Though he didn’t realise it, he was also holding his breath. Oh no. Please don’t. Please don’t come this way. I don’t want to be closer to you…

His mother hissed again, bringing him out of that train of thought.

“Billy, what did I tell you about staring? I can’t take you anywhere!”

The performer set his eyes on Billy again, and while there, they stared straight at each other, the entertainer started to laugh. It was such a creepy laugh. Billy’s stomach churned and he flinched just hearing it. Even though the clown was so far away, Billy could hear it as if it was right beside him. It was crystal clear. Though the people around didn’t seem to notice a thing. That was even creepier than the clown itself.

The moment it sensed that Billy had noticed this, it started to run straight at him, cackling as it did. Billy didn’t wait for his parents’ approval, he turned and ran.

“Billy!” his mother shouted after him. “Billy! Come back here! It’s just a street entertainer!”

Billy noticed all the people around him looking at him and his mother with scornful glances and judging stares, as if he were just an ordinary stroppy kid and his mom couldn’t control him. Could they not see he was being chased? Did they not care?

He turned around. The moment he did, he saw the clown upon him. It grabbed him by the shoulder and lifted him up as if he was light as a feather. It’s cackling was ear splittingly loud now that it was right next to him, and its face was abhorrent. Cracked white paint, a smile twice as wide as human faces should allow without grotesque alteration, and the eyes. The wild eyes full of malice, glee, and a spine-chilling twisted nature. Its hand distracted from its face by reaching down and pulling a gleaming kitchen knife from its belt.

Billy wriggled, and squirmed, and tried to shake free of the clown’s grip, and he screamed out loud, at the top of his lungs, to anyone nearby who would listen.

“Help! Help me! Somebody! This clown's trying to kill me!”

But all he received were irritated mutterings like, 'Ugh, where are that brat’s parents?' or, 'I wouldn’t let my kid scream and strop like that.'

Were these people mad?! Did they even realise what was happening to him? What were they seeing? Did the clown’s behaviour seem normal to them? In their eyes, am I the only one at fault? If so, there’s nothing I can do. No way I can escape with my life.

Billy started to sob quietly, and he shut his eyes tight. There was a sudden, sharp, searing pain inside his chest like no pain he had ever felt before. He couldn’t help but scream out at the unexplainable agony. He had just been stabbed in the chest with a knife. The feeling of shock that came with knowing that felt worse than the pain. He didn’t want to see, so he kept his eyes shut, and kept sobbing. He could taste something hot and salty at the back of his throat, filling it until he started to choke. His life was fading, and in his last moments he could still hear the cackling of the clown, and the muttered disapprovals of passers-by at some bratty kid screaming and crying in the middle of the street.




Written by Cyanwrites
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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