The Guild of Fallen Clowns

by Francis Xavier

  For as long as Alan could remember, he had done his best to avoid amusement park haunted houses. As a matter of fact, the list of things he avoided was long: he wouldn’t go near wooded areas at night, he wouldn’t walk through a dark room, he’d never go in an attic, he never looked under a bed at night, he wouldn’t sleep in a perfectly silent room (he needed some white noise or a radio on). And above all, he wouldn’t go into the basement of an old house alone, at any time of day. Oh, and since his run-in with Lyle the previous day, he had added one more thing to his “not do” list—he wouldn’t park his car in front of his own apartment building, unless he could get the spot where his driver side door faced the median.

  Up until his Krauss House experience the previous night, Alan had done well at avoiding those things. Now, less than a day later, he faced another unthinkable situation. He was being forced to enter a haunted amusement. How was it possible for him to get through more than three decades of life where his most frightening experience was fifty feet from Krauss House in the daytime? Now, suddenly, within a few short hours, he was faced with not one, but two unearthly predicaments.

  As he wrestled with his fears, it occurred to him that the carnival wasn’t opened to the public yet. There were still twenty minutes before guests would be admitted and the rides would be turned on. He wasn’t sure of what would be inside the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors, but based on its name, it would likely be a maze of mirrors in the dark with spooky sounds and creepy mechanical things brushing into people as they journeyed through. If so, all of those creepy things would likely be turned off until the carnival opened. Until then, Alan convinced himself that it was probably just a maze of mirrors and the room lights would still be on. After all, this Geno fellow would be waiting for whatever part was in the box he was about to deliver. This should be easy.

  With his newly formed justification and belief that everything would be okay, he started his approach. His head followed the Reaper’s hand and sickle as he walked through the ominous opening. He had slowly weaved halfway through the snake line on his way to the entrance when he heard The Ringmaster’s voice call out from the side.

  “The Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors isn’t for the faint of heart. Welcome to the portal to the underworld, where evil spirits await to prey upon both the weak and strong. All are welcome to test their will, but be warned. What you experience inside will haunt you forever. The Haunted Labyrinth welcomes you, but please remember—flash photography is prohibited and those with heart conditions or who are pregnant are prohibited from entering.”

  “He’s auditioning,” Alan said under his breath, as he stood motionless. Cracky was right. This guy did have a screw loose. He truly viewed Alan to be his competition for a job that wasn’t even available.

  The Ringmaster slithered back inside his booth as Alan continued his way to the entrance of the Labyrinth. Stopping at the front door, he called in to Geno, hoping he would come out to him. No luck. He took one step inside. It was dark, but rope lights along the walls at floor level illuminated the path.

  “Geno!” he called out again. This time he got a response.

  “Come back here. Just take a left at the end.”

  “Uh, that’s okay, I was sent to deliver a package to you. I’ll just leave it here on the floor.”

  “Not acceptable!” Geno snapped. “Bring it to me.”

  Alan didn’t see that he had any choice, so he continued to the end of the narrow hallway of mirrors and turned into a well-lit large circular room fully lined with mirrored panels. A man—apparently Geno—was crouched down working on something. The floor of the room was covered with what appeared to be a road map of narrow channels. Geno removed the head of his screwdriver from one of the channels and glided a mirrored panel through the track. It was connected like a bi-fold door to other panels. He eased the panel back and forth over the area he had just worked on before pushing the sections back to the outer wall.

  He looked over at Alan still in the entryway of the room. “Come here,” he said, motioning with his hand.

  Without taking a step, Alan held out the box. “They gave me this package to deliver to you.”

  “Bring it to me.”

  Alan looked around the room. His own and Geno’s reflections were the only things he saw. As he approached Geno, he wondered what the big deal was about the place. There weren’t any scary posters or mannequins dressed like Frankenstein or Dracula. No cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. It was just a room full of mirrors. Sure, it could get scary when the place opened and ghostly sounds would emanate from speakers, but other than that, the place looked pretty tame. If that place could scare people to death, maybe his lifetime of avoiding similar attractions was completely irrational. As a child, things could have been a lot easier for him if he sucked it up and joined his friends as they braved years’ worth of haunted houses at carnivals, fairs, and Halloween parties. If he didn’t fear so many things, maybe his friends wouldn’t have given him the nickname Boogieman, which was later shortened to Boogy.

  Alan was feeling braver than ever. For a brief moment, he selectively forgot about his response to the thing he saw the previous night at Krauss House. That was real, and places like the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors were just illusions. After seeing the real thing, maybe he would be able to live with the simulations.

  He reached out to offer the package to Geno. Geno was significantly shorter than Alan. He looked directly into Alan’s eyes as he grabbed the package and didn’t say a word as he continued to study him. As the seconds ticked, Alan became more and more uncomfortable with the silence.

  “Uh, my name is Alan, eh, Boogy,” he said as he reached his hand out a second time, this time offered as a handshake.

  Geno grinned, ignoring the gesture. “I know who you are.”

  “Oh, that’s right, Cracky told me you’re the reason I got this job,” he said nervously. “And, eh, thank you. I really appreciate it. I don’t know how you found me, but thanks. I’m excited to be here.”

  Geno nodded slightly and reached down for his toolbox. “I need you to wait here for a minute, Boogy. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Alan stood motionless as Geno brushed by him to another wall of the mirrored room. His reflections appeared to follow. At the wall, he pivoted a mirror and stepped through. He and his reflections disappeared, leaving Alan alone with countless reflections of Boogy looking back at him.

  With Geno gone, Alan was starting to think there might be some truth to the stereotype given to carnies. Other than Cracky, they were all a little bit creepy. Before entering the Labyrinth, his only concern was with the dead spirits he might find inside. Now he wasn’t thinking about the dead. He was more concerned with Geno. That odd little man gave him the shivers.

  Sounds of footsteps going up a metallic stairway, then across a floor above him, echoed throughout the room. Alan continued to stand motionless, curious about where Geno was headed. The footsteps stopped and the room lights dimmed. The entry and Geno’s exit door panel spun flat with the rest of the panels before loud clicking sounds locked them in place, creating an unbroken reflective circle around him.

  “Don’t worry, Boogy. He’ll be there soon,” Geno announced through hidden speakers.

  Fog began rising from the floor. Instantly, Alan reverted to his previous condition and darted for the entry door. The opening was gone. He pressed against the mirrors in an attempt to pivot them as Geno did when he left the room. One after another, he pressed on the panels around the room.

  “Let me out,” he commanded as he continued searching for an exit.

  “Patience, Boogy, he’s almost here,” Geno’s voice echoed.

  With all the mirrors checked—and some double-checked, Alan moved to the center of the room to look for another escape option. There were none. Geno had trapped him inside.

  “What are you doing? Let me out. Please.”

  Geno ignored his plea. The fog covering the floor settled at knee level,
but inside the mirrors, dark smoke appeared to rise nine feet to the ceiling. Watching the mirrors build with smoke, Alan noticed the area in front of him become turbulent. The dark cloud began dissipating as a figure moved toward the mirrors’ surface from the darkness. It was tall and darker than the smoke. As it stopped at the inner skin of the mirror, its features sharpened, and Alan’s eyes widened.

  “Peepers!” Alan gasped. “But that’s not possible. You’re not real. You’re just a character in Clown World.”

  The Peepers figure didn’t appear to be a projection on the mirror. Instead, it looked like he was standing behind the sheet of glass. As Alan tried to make sense of what was happening, Peepers raised his left hand. The rigid mirror barrier rippled as his hand flowed through it and into the room. As it moved into his space, the hand took on a semi-transparent consistency.

  Alan couldn’t move if he wanted to. The image in front of him was surreal. All he could do was watch as the rest of Peepers’ body flowed through the barrier and stood in front of him like a holographic representation of the Peepers from inside the mirrored wall.

  Peepers floated to within a few feet of Alan. From the corner of his mouth, another plea to Geno was all Alan could muster.

  “Geno, please turn it off.”

  “Geno didn’t bring me here, Alan,” Peepers said.

  “Holy crap,” Alan stammered.

  “Peepers here for you, Alan. And you are here for Peepers.”

  Alan had had enough. He closed his eyes in an effort to make it go away.

  “Open eyes, Alan. Peepers brought you to help. We help each other.”

  One eye opened to a slit. Peepers stood tall, staring down at him with his big, glossy black eyes.

  “Now the other,” Peepers said, and his bony finger twitched upward, inches from Alan’s face.

  Alan slowly opened his other eye.

  “This can’t be real. How did you know about Clown World, Geno? Are you the Peepers character? What’s going on here?”

  From the side of the room, a mirrored panel pivoted and Geno walked through. He flipped the panel back to a closed position and walked past Alan to the back of the room, where he unlocked another panel and exited the building.

  Alan returned his focus to Peepers.

  “Geno helps Peepers. Peepers real.”

  With Geno out of the building, Alan realized that this couldn’t be some sort of manipulated projection. It was talking independently to him. It had to be a real ghost.

  “Yes, Alan, Peepers real. Once, real like you. Now, real in spirit realm.”

  Alan spun to scan the mirrors. His was the only reflection in the panels. “You’re a ghost?”

  “Yes, Peepers slip from the solid world to place where judgment awaits.”

  Alan didn’t try to understand Peeper’s reply, and for a moment he forgot that he was talking to a ghost. One question dominated his thoughts.

  “Why did you kill me in Clown World?”

  Peepers tilted his head. Even as a spirit in another dimension, he appeared confused and unable to understand how Alan’s deeply rooted fear of everything supernatural could be overshadowed by the demise of his fictional character in a role-playing game.

  “Alan, Peepers here to help you. Peepers need your help.”

  “Help? Wait, just tell me why you killed me.”

  Something inside Alan took over. Maybe it was the strange and almost mystical setting with all of the smoke and mirrors. Or maybe it was the lifelike projection of a familiar character from Clown World standing in front of him. Whatever it was, Alan temporarily lost his sense of reality and acted as if he were back in his virtual world character of Boogy. The real Alan could never be so bold.

  Peepers apparently wasn’t interested in playing Clown World, or Alan’s new game any longer. He needed to snap him back to reality—the reality where the sight of Peeper’s ghostly image in front of him would make him numb with fear.

  He lowered his face to Alan’s and growled, “Clown World not real. Boogy character dead. Now, only Peepers and Alan. Time for games over.”

  The sensation of Peepers’ hot breath snorting through his bulbously disfigured black clown nose into his face was unlike anything Alan had ever experienced in Clown World—or any world. Terror returned as he realized Peepers was real and he was trapped.

  A look of pleasure spread over Peepers’ face as he watched the fear return to Alan’s painted face.

  “Yes, that’s where Alan must be. Does Alan fear Peepers?” he asked.

  Alan’s emotions were still filled with a mixture of fear, confusion, and anger. Most of all, he didn’t understand why Peepers had lured him there. What was he saying about them helping each other? Nothing made sense.

  “Maybe,” he quivered.

  Peepers’ large eyes lowered to Alan’s trembling legs. He laughed and returned his glare to Alan’s wondering eyes.

  “Yes,” Peepers whispered. His head bobbed to match the erratic movement of Alan’s eyes as he tried desperately to avoid visual contact with his ghost. “Peepers help Alan with his fear.”

  Alan stopped looking away and met Peepers’ stare. “Help me? Like you helped me in Clown World?”

  Peepers’ laughter subsided. “The game not real. Peepers help Alan in real world,” he said.

  “I know it’s not real. I’m not stupid. But I enjoyed it, and you took that from me.”

  “ Peepers and the guild real. We help Alan grow strong with real power—in real life.”

  Alan shook his head. “What does that even mean? I don’t know what you can possibly want from me. You already pointed out how the only place I had any power at all was in Clown World. A computer game that isn’t real. How the hell can I help you?”

  “Alan strong in spirit world. Peepers need his spirit power to earn light.”

  Still oblivious to what the ghost was saying, Alan said, “What light? Stop speaking in riddles.”

  “Peepers—and the guild—sinned. Must atone. Earn light. Peepers help Alan with weakness in his world.”

  “What light? What weakness? What guild? What do you want from me?”

  “Peepers help Alan grow strong. Alan help Peepers grow strong,” Peepers said before his figure glided back through the mirrors and faded into the dark cloud of smoke.

  The lights of the Labyrinth glowed brighter. Alan looked around for signs of life, or spirits of once living things. Seeing the coast, and ghost, was clear, he walked back to where he remembered the front entrance was before melding in with the rest of the mirrored panels. A nearby panel clicked and the exit door opened. His paced quickened as he rushed out of the building. He looked away as he passed Geno, who was training a ticket taker near the gates of the Labyrinth.

  I need to tell Cracky this isn’t going to work out. I can’t work here with a ghost, he thought as he stormed toward the ticket booth near the carnival’s entrance. He made it about halfway when a stampede of guests rumbled toward him. Passing up a dozen other opportunities to be first in line, the crowd was singularly focused on making the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors their first attraction of the day. He tried to get out of their way, but it was too late. It was like he was standing in the ocean with a giant wave heading toward him. If he tried to fight it, he would get swept up and dragged back to the Labyrinth. Instead, he ducked and tucked his knees and elbows tight to his body. The human wall flowed around him.

  That was close. I wonder if Peepers had anything to do with that. Maybe he wanted to use them to drag me back there.

  The ticket booth came into sight and he could see Cracky inside, tending to a line of eager customers. Lines for each booth were long, as the gates had opened minutes earlier. Through the side door window, Cracky noticed Alan approaching and waved him over.

  He’s relying on me. What am I going to tell him? I can’t tell him the truth. He’ll think I’m crazier than that Ringmaster guy. How am I going to get out of this? Alan wondered as he stepped up to the side door
of the booth.

  Cracky opened the door. “Hey, Boog, be with you in a sec,” he said before returning his attention to a couple of eight-year-old boys pulling loose change and crumpled bills from their pockets. Placing the money in a combined heap on the shelf in front of the half-circle opening, they continued searching their pockets for one more quarter.

  “We need ten tickets for the Zipper. Just one more quarter,” said one of the boys as he rooted through his own pockets.

  The other boy looked at the pile and said, “Are you sure you counted it right? Maybe we should count it again.”

  Cracky took advantage of their preoccupation by sneaking a puff from a lit cigarette inside the booth. Then, with a slight head turn, he shifted his lips to the side of his face and exhaled the smoke to the back of the cramped booth.

  By now, the boys’ pockets were pulled out like rabbit ears. They didn’t have the extra quarter needed to ride the Zipper. Standing outside the open door, Alan tried working a hand through his clown costume to the front pocket of his jeans. Before he found the necessary twenty-five cents, Cracky exchanged the money on the shelf with ten tickets. The boys, still unaware of the exchange, debated over whose mother they would beg for the additional quarter.

  “Boys!” Cracky broke in.

  They looked up. Without saying a word, Cracky nodded and looked down to the tickets. The boys’ eyes followed. Their jaws dropped as their mental counts confirmed they had the required amount for the Zipper.

  “Awesome! Ten tickets,” said one of the boys.

  The other boy snatched the tickets and shouted, “Thank you, mister.” They turned and howled as they ran in the direction of the Zipper.

  Cracky pulled a quarter from his pocket and added it to till. He looked back at Alan and said, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me smoking in here.”

  “You’re a good man, Cracky,” Alan said with a smile.

  Ignoring the compliment, Cracky changed the subject. “Guess what we need you to do?” he grinned. He reached under the shelf in front of him and pulled out a bag of balloons.