1 August 2012
This is a story that my older sister told me when I was young. You might have heard it before, but I found it terrifying. Enjoy!
There she was. A week before her birthday. Posting yet another picture of a clown to her bedroom wall. One to go with all the other memorabilia. She loved clowns. This soon to be 8 year old girl, had just about every clown costume, poster, toy, you could think of.
However jumping and playing around in town the next day, she and her mum came across the most beautiful life size, hand painted clown, they'd ever seen. Its face, sad, with a tear painted, with love on his hard, shiny cheek "I love it! I love it!" she screamed. "well you'll have to wait and see for your birthday" mum replied. The girl, obviously taking the hint, waited patiently for the week to pass.
Sure enough the time soon came, where she was opening her presents that morning. She purposely left the biggest one until last, and could barely contain her excitement as she unravelled the paper to reveal the clown's saddened face. She was ecstatic, and was distracted by it every few minutes of her party. So much so, that her dad decided to move the clown into her room on her chair in the corner.
That evening, the girl lay, playing with the rest of her presents, until dad looked at his watch, and announced "well it's midnight, you'd better be getting off to bed". He helped tuck her in, and left the door ajar.
Later on that night, the parents sat downstairs, when her door flung shut. This followed by a thick thud, coming from the daughter's room. She screamed and her parents ran upstairs, and forced the door open.
They turned on the lights, and instantly they noticed the window was open. A chord tied to the bed which went out of the window. They peered out. Attached to the chord, was their beloved daughter. Hanging from her neck. Blood spewing from where the chord cut her open. Her mum screeched and her dad scanned the room for answers. That's when they saw.
On the chair, in the corner, the clown sat, smiling.
The Clown • Opuss № I