We are All Clowns

       Is it now when the air burns and the lungs dry that you realize the life is leaving you? You fight to regain your balance but the puppets grasp is strong. You fight against the strings with might and courage but fall short and hard. They laugh at you, those evil grinning clowns. What do they know of death, all they ever do is make people laugh? But not these clowns, oh no, these clowns are unlike any other. Again you try to stand bearing all your weight against he ground. The carnival music is echoing in your ears as the sweet smell of cotton candy consumes you. Why me? You shout aloud. No one answers you. The darkest of the clowns moves forward into sight and begins to dance on his hands in front of you. His wrinkled face and hot breath only inches from your face. His eyes are a dark solid green, and an old rusted nose lies beneath them. His wide lips are cracked and his teeth a rotten yellow. You try your hardest to punch him in the face but the weight of the strings is slowing you down. He is quick and slides around you whispering things you can’t understand. As you release your mind to travel back in memory you remember the things you’ll miss the most. The smell of the first winter wind bringing the ever white blankets of snow. The leaves’ crunching beneath your bare feet as fall begins to breath. Oh and endless fields of dandy lions calling out to the vast blue skies, the first bite of honey comb or the relaxing touch of sand between your toes. You remember the laughter of your family and the times you spent together. The array of smiles your loved ones gave you even when you thought you didn’t deserve them. And it was then as you remembered the important things in life that the clowns cries started to make sense. The simple things they cried out. As you repeated these words the weight of the strings began to loosen. The clowns twisted grins became smiles and the burning in your lungs cooled.

            You awoke then sitting at a booth with an ash tray over flowing with cigarettes and a bottle of jack empty and lifeless beside you. To your right a stack of bills covered the picture frame of your family. You removed the bills and looked at the picture. How happy everyone seemed then you thought to yourself. It’s not about the items or the money we have in life that truly matter. It’s the experiences we have. When you truly think about life what does it consist of that everyone shares, experiences. We learn from the hard times and we cherish the good times. Nothing lasts longer than an experience, and it doesn’t matter how good of insurance you have on it. We poison ourselves with greed. So you pick up the lifeless bottle that has guided you and the ash tray which has choked you, along with the bills that laugh at you and you throw them away into the trash. You decide once and for all to own your things and not let them own you.              

Author's Note

Try to ignore the grammar issues. Be honest about what you think.

Reviews

[Savannah]

Honestly I love it. Descriptions are incredible. "We poison ourselves with greed": fantastic. The only thing is at the beginning of the last paragraph, he's at a booth? Maybe I misunderstood something but it sounds like he's at home but booth makes me think of a restaurant...? No but really: excellent.

[Shellie]

Wow. I just honest to god really loved this. I was absolutely riveted!!! It has an exceelent tone, concept and imagery. Really enjoyable. But it also has a moral at the end which gave a great touch.

[Hello, Goodbye]

I love the imagery. You create pictures that unconventional which kept me involved in the reading. While you had a 'message' its not preachy, but reflective.. which makes the push effective. Plus, I love the despondent ironic feeling of it all...

[deeps]

I like this alot. especailly th ending I chuckled at it. This is a very well written piece here honestly