The Guild of Fallen Clowns

by Francis Xavier

  “Delt Sig, dude. Thirty minutes?” he said. Alan nodded.

  *****

  His palms grew sweaty on the drive to Mrs. Henderson’s house. He didn’t expect to put his and Peepers’ plan in place so soon. Wednesday pizza deliveries for Mrs. Henderson were rare. Even when Mr. Henderson was alive, he couldn’t remember them ever calling for a pizza on a Wednesday. Maybe she had tried the night before and called it off when she learned he wasn’t working. Maybe she just waited another day—or maybe she was getting so forgetful in her old age that she wasn’t aware of what day it was anymore.

  Whatever the reason, Alan was both excited and anxious about the realization that their plans were within minutes of becoming reality. He envisioned future deliveries where she might actually open the door to greet him and personally hand him the money instead of slipping it through the mail slot in an envelope. She might even allow drivers other than Alan to deliver her pizzas.

  Her life was about to change. The idea of becoming a helping hero appealed to him. His mind raced with visions of all the people he could help. Today he would cure Mrs. Henderson. Tomorrow he would start on Agor so that Cheryl could be cured of her fear of crowds.

  *****

  Alan pulled into the driveway and tugged twice on the high beams. He counted to three and waited for the porch lights to come on. The house remained dark. He tugged a second time. Maybe she’s not near the window, he thought. Again, there was no response from inside the house. After his third failed attempt, he took the pizza and the bagged figure of Peepers to the porch. Standing three feet from the door, he waited. Once again, nothing happened. Leaning toward the door, he called out, “Mrs. Henderson. It’s Alan. I have your pizza.”

  Again, there was no response from inside. Something must be wrong. She always kept an inconspicuous watch from inside. Maybe his theory about her getting forgetful in her old age was correct. Maybe she took a nap and forgot about her order. If so, he knew he couldn’t stand on the porch all night waiting for her to wake up.

  He had to make a decision. During his career, he’d had plenty of other instances where customers didn’t come to the door. In those situations he would return to the shop with the pizza. But this was Mrs. Henderson. As Joe suggested, she might be sick and in need of the food. He couldn’t leave with the pizza. Besides, she needed Peepers’ help. For all he knew, she may have digressed to the point where she no longer trusted him. If so, he had to act fast.

  He placed the pizza on her welcome mat and rested the bag holding Peepers on top. He pressed the doorbell once more and returned to his car, where he sat for a few minutes, hoping to see her retrieve the items. The house remained dark, and the five pizzas beside him had to be delivered, so he abandoned her pizza on the porch and drove off—constantly checking his rearview mirror until the house was out of sight.

  *****

  A finger delicately cracked a small opening through the window curtain beside the front door. Mrs. Henderson peeked through the slit and examined the items abandoned on her stoop. Seconds later, her finger released the fabric, closing the gap. The door remained shut.

  *****

  The curtain was brusquely pushed to the side and a face looked out from inside the house.

  “Is he here yet?” a frat boy asked the lookout.

  “Not yet. Hey, be sure she’s ready when he gets here.”

  Loud music inside the house could barely drown the sounds of dozens of inebriated college students. An attractive girl was sprawled on her back over a coffee table with her shirt hiked up and tucked in below her bra. Another girl held a bottle of tequila and poured some into the lounging girl’s belly button before she slurped it up. The girl on the table giggled and quivered from the tickling sensation. Her friend poured another shot and called out to the crowd, “Belly shots! The line starts here.”

  *****

  Five minutes passed before Mrs. Henderson peered out a second time at the curious packages on her welcome mat. Her eye lifted and shifted from side to side; all was quiet. Again, she released the curtain and made no attempt to retrieve the items.

  *****

  His eyes widened as he let the curtain drop and turned to his friend. “He’s here,” the lookout said. Todd rushed over to the crowd formed around the girl on the table. He grabbed her arm and lifted her to a sitting position.

  “Get in line, Todd,” she said.

  He continued to help her to her feet. The crowd jeered but didn’t make any motions to stop him from ruining their fun.

  “Debbie, the pizza guy is here. Could you answer the door?”

  She stumbled as Todd helped her regain her balance.

  “Why can’t you get it?” she said.

  The doorbell rang and Todd helped her toward the door.

  “We just want you to answer the door, Deb,” he said. In her drunken state, no further explanation was required. He released her and she took the last two steps forward and opened the door. First, her eyes locked onto the stack of pizza boxes. Then she looked up and saw Alan’s Boogy face smiling back at her. Fright overtook her. She threw her arms up and screamed. Everyone inside the house stopped talking and turned to see what happened. Debbie turned and darted through the crowded room, screaming. She recklessly bounced off people as she fled to the kitchen. Uproars of laughter filled the house as she exited the room.

  *****

  The deadbolt clicked and the door creaked open enough for Mrs. Henderson to examine the packages another time. “I didn’t call them,” she whispered to herself, staring down. She cracked the door open enough to slip her head out for a scan of the area. Nobody was in sight so she cautiously stepped out, bent down, and picked up the pizza box with the bagged item on top. She looked around one last time before taking them inside with her.

  *****

  Laughing continued as Alan handed the stack to one of the boys. He recognized the girl as Dave’s girlfriend. When he delivered the pizza to her apartment the other day, he knew she was much younger than Dave, but now he discovered Dave was cheating on his wife with a college kid.

  “You told me she liked clowns,” Alan said.

  The boy smiled and threw his shoulders back. “That wasn’t me. Todd told you that.”

  “I don’t care which one of you said it. You could have corrected him.”

  “Hey, chillax, dude. So we played a practical joke on her. What’s the harm?”

  “It’s just not cool. She’s obviously scared of clowns, and you knew it. And, you used me to do it for you.”

  Todd and another boy approached. “What’s the problem?” Todd said.

  “Oh, he’s just mad because we tricked him.”

  Todd stepped beside Alan and put his arm over his shoulder and looked at his buddies. “You know what? He’s right. We probably shouldn’t have done that,” he conceded, winking to his pals. “We’re sorry we tricked you, dude. We weren’t thinking.”

  Alan grew uncomfortable with Todd’s invasion of his personal space. He tried backing away, but Todd was taller and stronger, and he wasn’t ready to let go until Alan accepted his apology.

  “Okay, I believe you. Now let me go so I can get back to work,” Alan said.

  Todd gripped tighter on his shoulder. “Hold up, bro. Before you go, I wanted to ask you about that job you have at the carnival.”

  “Okay, what about it?” Alan said, ducking out from Todd’s hold.

  Todd allowed him to get away and continued his line of questioning. “Is it true what they say about the Haunted Labyrinth?”

  “I don’t know. What do they say about it?” Alan asked.

  “They say that it really is haunted. Is that true? Have you seen any ghosts in there?”

  Alan wasn’t about to share his own experiences with Todd or anyone else. As far as he knew, only he and Geno knew about the clown spirits in the mirrors.

  “I think you shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he replied.

  “Really, does that mean you’ve never
experienced anything there?”

  “I’m just saying you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. If you want to know for yourself, go to the carnival and go through it.”

  Todd smiled and nodded as he looked at the other boys. “That’s a great idea, but I’ve always heard that haunted houses are more active late at night. Since you work there, do you think you might be able to sneak us in so we could check it out after the place closes? I mean, how scary would it be if we went through it while the place was full of people?”

  Alan shook his head. “No way, guys. First of all, I’m just a part-timer. I don’t hang around after hours. Even if I did, I wouldn’t do that. You don’t want to mess around with that sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing? You did see something, didn’t you?” Todd said.

  “No, I mean, you wouldn’t want to mess around with breaking and entering. Just get the whole idea out of your head and visit during the day.”

  Todd handed Alan a five-dollar tip and assured him they would take his advice. Alan turned and walked toward his car while the boys huddled together on the porch talking about something before returning to the party inside.

  *****

  Mrs. Henderson sat at her kitchen table and stared at the pizza box topped with the curious bag. With her index finger, she slowly poked twice at the bag. She could make out something solid inside. Changing direction, she decided to look inside the more familiar pizza box. She gingerly lifted one corner, making sure the bag on top wouldn’t slide off. Seeing her usual order inside, she dropped the lid and returned her focus to the bag. She poked it a few more times. Nothing happened.

  With a cautious, quarter rotation of the pizza box, she positioned the loosely crumbled opening of the bag toward her. Without touching it, she leaned down and in, searching for a large enough opening for a glimpse inside. The wrinkled folds obstructed her view so she picked up nearby knitting needles and carefully pried it open a little at a time until she had a clear view inside. The figure was upside down and she only saw the bottom of the base.

  The knitting needles succeeded in opening the bag, but now she needed a new tool to remove the object. She stood and walked over to a utensil drawer, constantly glancing back at the bag as she rifled through the drawer. Finding a pair of tongs, she left the drawer open and returned to the table, where she stood facing the back end of the bag.

  Slowly, she reached the tongs out to the bag. They opened and then pinched a corner of the bag. With gentle upward tugs, she inched the figure out until it was free, laying it face down on the table.

  She released the bag from the tongs and walked around the table to see as much of it as she could without touching it. With the figure face down, she wasn’t able to get a full view. Using her tongs, she gripped it in the center and slowly raised it upright. As soon as his face lined up with hers, her hand jerked and she jumped back. Her hands covered her eyes. The figure should have fallen from her sudden movement. Instead, it appeared to move in an effort to regain its balance. Mrs. Henderson cautiously lowered her hand from her eyes and looked back at the table. The Peepers figure stood motionless, facing her. She crept sideways until she was out of his direct line of view.

  Her breathing became labored from fright, but she didn’t know what to do. She wanted it out of the house, but she didn’t want to get near it. The tongs lay on the table between her and the figure. Without taking her eyes off the figure, she inched forward and stretched out her hand until her fingers touched the tongs. As she did this, Peepers’ head slowly turned as his body remained still. She screamed and backed into the corner of her kitchen, where she slumped to the floor in the fetal position.

  *****

  With one hand rubbing tears from her eyes and the other concealing her soaked crotch, Debbie curled up in the corner of the kitchen pantry. A girl leaned over and attempted to console her panicked and humiliated friend. Debbie pleaded with her to leave her alone. The girl gave in and asked if she wanted the door open or closed.

  “Closed, but turn the light on first,” she replied.

  A roll of paper towels sat on the shelf beside her. She tore one off to wipe the tears from her face, then gathered a dozen more, wadded them up and pressed them into her crotch. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number. A mans voice answered.

  She sniffled and pleaded, “Dave, please. I really need you to come get me.”

  She listened to his reply and the tears flowed again. “I know, but I didn’t know who else to call. Please, Dave! I really need you,” she cried.

  Dave angrily denied her request before hanging up. Debbie closed her phone, wrapped her arms around her knees pulled up to her face, and continued to sob.

  *****

  From the floor in the corner of the room, Mrs. Henderson’s body shook in spasms as she gasped for air. The Peepers figure moved to the edge of the table, where it stared down at her with a sinister smile. She was trapped, but unable to look away from the figure. It rolled the kinks out of its neck and then spoke.

  “Peepers finally free.” The figure returned to its original pose and a cloud of black smoke formed beside the table. The cloud grew to life-size proportions before fading away, revealing a solid form with the smaller motionless figure on the table behind him. He moved close and leaned at the waist until his face was a foot from hers.

  “I am Peepers. Peepers represent the Guild of Fallen Clowns. On this day your life will change.”

  He smiled, then returned upright. Mrs. Henderson remained coiled up shivering on the floor. He casually turned and stepped away to the open kitchen drawer. Without looking at her, he continued speaking as he rummaged through the drawer, moving utensils from side to side.

  “Peepers’ power within figure,” he said. His finger pointed over his shoulder to the figure on the table behind him.

  “If you want Peepers’ help, do not reject figure.”

  Mrs. Henderson looked at the motionless figure on the table. Then she looked back at Peepers admiring a long carving knife held out in front of him. He looked back and repeated, “Reject Peepers’ help by rejecting statue.”

  He turned away and moved to another drawer. Again, she looked at the figure. Peepers was looking away and she had room to grab the figure. Slowly, she worked her way to her feet. Still looking away, Peepers smiled and continued shuffling through drawers.

  “If you reject the Guild by casting Peepers statue from your home, Peepers cannot help you.”

  She stepped closer to the table and covertly reached for the figure. As soon as she touched it, Peepers froze. Then he grinned and turned slowly toward her. She saw him turn and ran for the door with his figure in hand. Peepers followed, leaving a comfortable distance.

  “The choice is yours. Reject Peepers’ help—”

  She fumbled to unlock the deadbolt. Peepers closed the gap.

  “Peepers grow angry—”

  The door opened. She cocked back her arm.

  “Angry Peepers—”

  She lunged forward, launching the figure into bushes lining the walkway. She slammed the door shut and locked it. With her back pressed against the door and her eyes closed, ten minutes of silence passed before she could breathe normally. The figure was outside and his voice didn’t return.

  She started to feel a sense of security, but she was afraid to open her eyes to his last position in the room. She turned to face the door and crept to the side window. Her finger found the curtain and pulled it back. Leaning her face up to the sliver of an opening, she slowly opened her eyes and spotted the figure resting face down in a bush.

  With the figure outside, she felt a slight bit of relief. She kept her eyes open and turned to face the room. To her great relief, she was alone. With that thing on the outside, her bunker was once again secure.

  She returned to the kitchen where she noticed the bag on the tile floor. She picked it up with the nearby tongs and placed it in a pot where she lit a match and burned it. Then she
placed the pot in the sink, ran cold water into it, and watched until the ashes disappeared down the drain. She turned off the water and froze at a chewing sound behind her. She turned to see Peepers sitting at the table, eating a slice of pizza.

  “Mmm, Alan right. Good pizza,” he said.

  Her veins visibly throbbed under the thin skin of her neck.

  “Peepers warned, reject our help and Peepers grow angry. Angry Peepers, vengeful Peepers.” He swallowed his food, placed the remainder of the slice on the box, and looked at Mrs. Henderson. He smiled and said, “Peepers thank Hilda for rejecting him.”

  She tried to scream, but nothing came out. Her shaking knees buckled, dropping her to the floor. Peepers stood and walked up to her. Fear paralyzed her muscles as he sat beside her trembling body. Her lips quivered as she desperately attempted to mutter words.

  “What was that?” Peepers said as he leaned his ear close. She tried saying the words again.

  “Milton? Ha!” Peepers said.

  “Milton dead. Cannot help.” He took pleasure in watching her body convulse in fear.

  After basking in her fear, he decided it was time to push her further. She was lying on her side facing him. He pressed her raised shoulder to the floor and moved her leg so that she was flat on her back. Her eyes were the only part of her that weren’t paralyzed. They followed his face as he repositioned her numb body.

  Peepers placed his body above hers in a push-up position, keeping his weight off her body. He looked down at her and said, “Peepers know all. Peepers know about Russian soldier. Does Hilda remember soldier’s face?”

  Her face went white.

  Peepers lowered his weight on top of her. “Hilda rejected soldier. Made him angry.”

  “Do you remember feeling? Does Hilda feel now?”

  Pinned beneath him, she managed to close her eyes.

  Peepers rubbed into her. He reached for her dress and hiked it to her waist.

  “He took from you—” He continued slowly humping her as he ripped off her underwear.