Chapter 5

5.

Little Max walked through the park with his mother in his hand. He clenched hold of her tight and moved slowly forward. Little Max hated the park in the day time, it was always full of kids larger than him who would always fight for the swing. But at night time, when the park was dark, he hated it more than anything. He grabbed hold of his mothers hand tighter, his eyes focused on the swing set. It moved slowly, back and forth. His mother would blame the wind but Max knew their was no wind.
“Mum can’t we take the long way around? Past the house with the big Christmas lights?”, the house was famous throughout the town, Max would think of this house whenever he was scared.
“Hunny, its February the house wont even have its lights up”, Max’s mother said correctly, Max didn’t care he just wanted to walk under the streets nights. He walked a few more steps and then heard the creeping of the swing set again, he stopped with his mothers hand still in his.
“Max come on we have to go. It’s already past your bedtime”, Max remained motionless, but didn’t pull his hand away from his mothers in fear of being left stranded.
“Can’t we just walk around mum? It’s only like twenty minutes longer”, Mrs Ludgate took her hand away from Max’s. He still remained unmoved.
“Fine, you stay here and when I get home I can tell your father all about this would you like that?”, Max realised in that second that he was more scared of his father than any park. He ran quickly and grabbed hold of his mothers hand, quickly paced three or four yards before once again stopping. This time he let go of his mothers hand instantly. His free hands began to tremble in fear. His eyes were fixed to a large bus in the corner of the play area, it had moved.
His mother turned around in a huff, expecting to see her soon being defiant again just as he was earlier. But when she turned around she saw that the little boy was shaking in fear. Tears had already began to well up in his little eyes.
“Ahh Max what’s up? Are you okay?”, she said in a soothing tone, quickly running to Max’s side. Max didn’t speak, he just slowly lifted his shaking arm and pointed at the large bush in the corner of the play area.
“There is something in there, something big”, he said with his croaking voice, he was visibly distressed.
“Oh Max”, said Mrs Ludgate, with relief in her voice, “That’s probably just an animal, there’s no reason to worry”. She was right, it was an animal. But she was very wrong when she told Max not to worry. Max who had just about unfroze from his fear ran toward his mother, quickly grabbed her hand and rushed her out of the park as quickly as he could.


The small bush still remained, unmoved. Then a small rustle and then without warning a nightmarish man stood up and took a step out. He was a clown from the neck up, his paint was impossibly white. The red paint around his looked blood thirsty. He skipped gleefully toward the brook that ran through the park. In his right hand a knife glimmered under the moonlight, it had black fresh blood still dripping from it. When he arrived at the brook bank he forcefully rammed his knife into the grass, pushing the blade entirely into the ground so there was no glimmer from it any more. The Clown dropped to his knees and began to wash his hands viciously in the brook, he was almost scratching the skin away from his hand. It began to bleed, he then submerged his head and began to rub at the paint on his face. When The Clown lifted its head from the water, it was still exactly that a clown. From the neck done though, he wore a suit. A perfectly tailored suit. Designer, known the less, would have cost a couple thousand pound to afford the suit. But the blood that was poured down the front of it made it absolutely certain that the suit could never be sold. The Clowns thoughts became frantic and uncontrollable. He scratched at his hand, thoughts of fire and blood ran though this head. He kicked off his shoes, pressed his feet into the dirty ground on the park and then walked purposefully toward the city.

The Clown had control now, he arrived at a small bakery on the east side of town. Although it was small it was popular and a trendy spot in the city. He straightened his jacket, smiling to himself as more blood got on it from his bleeding hands. Then he saw two women sat alone on a bench outside of the bakery. Both with the bakeries trademark Gingerbread men in hand, the heads of the men had been cut off. The Clown slipped his knife into his pocket and walked over swaying as he did. He sat next to the two girls who had watched as the bloodied clown walked across the road.
“That’s an amazing costume. What are you The Joker or are you from that book?”, they said jokingly toward The Clown. He simply smiled, showing off his yellow and jagged teeth.
“What have you done to your hand? It looks like you need a bandage or something do you want me to get you something”, the girl said, concerned about the blood pouring from his hand. It was clear that chunks of his skin were missing.
“No”, The Clown said. “But I would like some lipstick and I’d like you to leave when you have given it to me”, The Clown said in a pleasant tone.
“What? Why do you want us to leave?”, replied the women, with her confusion written across her face. The Clown smiled again showing off his teeth, then slowly from his right pocket he showed the knife. The two young girls began to shake,
“Come on now, don’t make a scene”, he said. He heard the screams of children when he said this, he heard these screams so many times in his sleep. The kids burning, begging to be saved.
“Please don’t kill us”, said the young girl, who had just lifted her bag up and began shaking up.
“Hurry then!”, The Clown screamed at the girl, smiling outwardly after he spoke to avert the attention of passers by. The young girl finally got hold of her lipstick, she grabbed it in her sweaty palms and passed it over to The Clown.
“Oh darling you are very sweet. Before you leave, would you mind if I borrow your coat. It seems big enough to fit me and it is a chilly night”, The clown said with a false smile, his eyes shined as if he were telling a joke. The young girl took off her trench coat which was incredibly long, The Clown took it graciously and then walked away from the bench. His eyes remained on the girls as he did though, they walked away toward the end of the street and when they thought they were a safe distance away sprinted as fast as their legs could take them. But The Clown had no intention to follow, “they would not do, not nearly do”, he said to himself. He walked up to wall next to large bakery looking around first to check that he was alone and safe. He was. He took the lipstick and in large letters wrote out the word “CORPSE”, in capital letters. He curled up in front of it, like a kitten next to a fire. He pulled the large trench coat over him so none of his body could be seen.

He stayed here for quite a while many people walked past and noticed him but no one approached and none of them peeked his interest. It was getting late now and the noises of two drunkards quickly rang from around the street corner.
“I need to get home”, a girl said as she turned the corner, her words were mangled and hardly recognisable.
“Just come to my house, it’s a lot closer than yours”, said the boy with her, his words with a lot clearer and he walked in a much straighter line. The Clown could see them through a whole in the trench coat.
“Oh crap can you see that?”, said the young girl, stopping in her tracks when she saw the large red “Corpse” written on the wall.
“It’s just some prank, it’s probably just a pile of coats”, unfortunately for the boy it was not a pile of coats.
“Can you touch it or something cause this is really freaking me out, please I mean it I’m scared”, said the girl, her words were less stirred now as her fear became evident in her voice. The young man saw this as his opportunity to impress the girl. He wouldn’t admit it but he was scared, he wasn’t sure if it was coats or not and if he had walked past alone he would have almost definitely just walked past in a hurry. The Clown held his breath, the coat didn’t move. The boy became confident and stepped closer in, then another tiny step. Then The Clown’s knife came out from under the coat and plunged straight into the ankle of the young boy, he fell to the floor in agony. Even before he had hit the floor the young girl had sprinted off into the direction of her home, not looking back for a second.

“I guess she isn’t coming back”, said The Clown who took the coat off him as he spoke.
“What do you think you’re doing-”, the boys dissent was cut short when The Clown sharply stamped down on his ankle.
“I’m talking now, please don’t be rude”, he said as he trotted around the boy.
“This came to me you know, I was stood on that hill over there you see it”, said The Clown, moving the boys face with the end of his foot toward the hill.
“I thought I could write Corpse on a wall, that would entice someone. Peak some ones interest. But you know, it’s just nosy. You couldn’t have helped if I was dead could you”, he said stamping down on the boys head. The boys face began to bleed but he remained concious. What happened next was a blur, no one was entirely sure what killed the young man. Either the crushing of his skull from repetitive blunt forced trauma or the twenty-seven stabs to the body, leg and face. He wasn’t identified until a week later, his body and face were so mangled that his own mother didn’t recognise him.

Reviews

[mappingthenight]

Wow, very chilling! You definitely have me hooked and the Clown is a terrifying villain. Overall, I would just reread it to check for typos and errors, otherwise it's a great chapter.