It is a privilege to know what I know
Introduction
The clowns are merely symbols. They exist to excite. We deployed them to lurk at the edges, not to threaten, but to nudge the population closer to the brink. For most, the clowns will be ridiculous pranks, for others they will be yet another harbinger of the doom that is imminent in a country where most established order is in disarray. But to the ones we seek, the clowns will be a source of recruitment. The violent and public sex acts that were previously orchestrated worked to spread our message, but not everyone will be willing to take their own lives for our cause. They would have no trouble taking other lives, they may even crave that power. They will see our clowns lurking the darkness and that cruel spark inside of them will ignite. The part of then that delights in the chance to unsettle, to destabilize comfort. It will be a very short step from putting on masks or makeup and wielding intimidating weapons for a cheap laugh, to actively finding joy in taking lives. And their lust for excitement and cheap thrill will only feed our master for he is fueled by cruelty for cruelty’s sake. We all feel him, moving and writhing in the depth and ever closer to us. When he emerges, we will open our souls to him, feed him until he is strong enough to cleanse this world, this plane of existence, of the disease that is life and humanity.
Marty; the clown with the melting face
Marty chose a mask. His friend, Jake, decided on makeup after seeing the news story of the man arrested in Indian Trail, NC because the man looked extra creepy and more realistic. Marty liked his mask that was mostly white and seemed to be melting at all of its features; the eyes were seamless holes and over his face they looked like oozing voids, the lips were big and red with blisters along the outside, and the mass of its face was like a crumbling white cheese. Marty didn’t mind the stuffy heat behind the mask that made sweat ball and drip down his face. It would be well worth it to see the unsettling looks that he and Jake anticipated when they planned to linger at the edge of the housing development where Marty lived with his parents.
He was 26 at the time and though he was frustrated in his job restocking the local grocery store, and his relationship with his long time girlfriend was more headache than it was worth, he didn’t feel that he was trying to compensate for anything. The scary clowning just seemed like a fun thing to do and Halloween was just around the corner. There was the desire to get the reactions that others doing the clowning had received. He would admit that the clowns he’d seen on the news had a power that he wanted. They caused panic in a neighborhood just by standing around and he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to admit that she missed him when they didn’t see each other for a couple of days. Maybe he felt invisible and powerless and the prank would give him a semblance of consequence.
“Jake, let’s get going man. I want to do this!” Marty and Jake were in the garage at Marty’s house and Jake was taking his time with the makeup.
“I’m almost done.” Jake said. “There.” He turned and his face wasn’t as intimidating as Marty’s mask. “Instagram this shit!”
“This ain’t a photo shoot man! Can we go?” Marty regretted his partnership. He suggested clowning to Jake about a week before and he had thought about doing it alone but decided that if the police showed up it would be helpful to have an accomplice that he could out run. Jake agreed to do it with him because he thought it would be funny but as Marty watched him take selfies, he realized that it meant something different to him. Jake wouldn’t mind being arrested and posting about it social media, he only cared about telling stories. But Marty wanted something more, he wanted to be terrifying. He wanted to make little kids hate clowns and have nightmares, he wanted parents to keep their kids in at night when the sun went down. And he didn’t want to be caught. He wanted to become a myth.
Marty grabbed his father’s machete from the rack of tools and gave Jake the long shears as they headed out with dark hoodies covering their heads. Marty wore his mask, breathing slowly to minimize the warm humidity inside the plastic. The smell of the rubber was intoxicating as the two skulked through the woods behind his parent’s house. They walked a short distance before they reemerged on another street in the development, in the woods behind a house that looked similar to the one where he lived.
“What now?” Jake asked as they leered just at the edge of backyard of the house. The lights were on and shadows moved past the windows.
“We can wait ‘til someone comes out.” Marty said. “Or I’ll knock on the door.” Marty was eager to be seen. His neighborhood wasn’t as active at night as he’d hoped.
“Knock on the door? I thought we were just gonna stand around.” Jake said, his voice full of second thoughts. “Let’s just drive somewhere else where there are people out.”
Marty considered it but his feet were moving toward the house before he realized it. Jake voiced his objections behind him, but Marty was halfway across the lawn, machete up in his right hand. There was movement at the back door that suddenly flung open and a man with a bat stepped out into the backyard.
“We called the cops, they’re on the way!” The man was visibly shaken but angry.
Marty smiled under the mask. He stood in place, moved the machete to his throat and made a motion like he was decapitating himself. Then he ran back to the woods and toward his house. He caught up to Jake before they reached the garage.
Jake laughed and snapped pictures. “That guy was terrified. I wonder if they really called the cops?” He listened for sirens and looked through the windows for signs of lights.
Marty wasn’t laughing and he was still wearing the mask. The humidity, the smell of the rubber, he loved it then and he loved the way his heart was racing. The man had looked terrified, Marty could see the whites all around his pupils even from the distance. It was clear that the man was shaking like a leaf and if not for the treat to his family inside the house, he would ran. Marty saw the regret on the man’s face, regret at having a family and a home to protect in a world where creepy clowns came out of the woods late at night. Marty felt that he had rattled the man to his core and he loved it. The man would never be the same.
And then Marty looked at Jake, snapping pictures, posting videos, compromising his ability to experience that feeling again. Before he can think it through, Marty felt the resistance of Jake’s torso against the edge of the machete as he pushed it inside of him. Jake didn’t make a sound as he fell to the ground. Marty stood over his in the melting clown mask, revelling in Jake’s wide eyes, the look of panic and regret as his life slipped away.
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