The Guild of Fallen Clowns

by Francis Xavier

  Peepers stepped through the opening between Dale and Joe. Still blocked by Ringmaster’s new position, he lowered his eyes. Through tear-glazed eyes, Ringmaster looked up, his body convulsing as he fought to suck sufficient air to support his racing heart through the blood- and saliva-soaked gag. Peepers inhaled slow and deep. Then he placed one foot to the side of Ringmaster and effortlessly flung him like a hockey puck across the floor. The two Peepers laughed as Ringmaster’s knees smacked into the mirrored side wall. Instinctive moans of empathy briefly preceded the gallery’s sick display of enjoyment over Ringmaster’s suffering.

  The newly emerged Peepers returned his glare on Alan, while the one attached to his brother watched from Dale’s side.

  Alan stepped forward. “Let them go. It’s me you want. Do what you want with me. Please, just let them go. They didn’t do anything to you.”

  Peepers laughed, sparking a chain reaction from the Guild. Dale’s Peepers allowed them ten seconds of shared amusement before calmly motioning them to quiet down.

  “You bargain with nothing. Alan weak—powerless—like them,” Peepers scoffed.

  Alan realized Peepers was right. He had nothing to offer Peepers in return for their freedom. However, he couldn’t give up. “We’ve proven that we can destroy you. We killed two of your…other…yous,” Alan stammered.

  “Ha! Cannot kill what is dead,” Peepers mocked. “You destroy copies. Peepers does not need copies in Labyrinth. Human cannot destroy Peepers. Only Peepers can destroy self, cast from Labyrinth.” He turned and laughed. His Guild joined.

  Again, Alan was at a loss. Peepers had first appeared to him before he sculpted and cast his figure. As the two Peepers and the Guild mocked Alan’s empty threat, Alan noticed his brother Dale shimmy down in his chair, lunging his head forward. He was trying to tell him something, but Alan couldn’t decipher his clues.

  Alan shrugged. Maybe he’s trying to warn me, he thought. Or maybe he’s trying to tell me to run for the exit while I still can. This wouldn’t work because the door locked behind them when they moved into the room.

  To be sure, Alan turned. As he did, he discovered four Guild clowns in the mirrors behind him. Upon being discovered, they smiled and unfurled long colorful silk scarves into the room. With their hands clutching one end of the fabric strips, the other ends floated around his body, then back into the mirrors. Alan tried to escape the trap by spinning around and pulling at the slick material, but they clung tight and didn’t allow him to slip free. Peepers faced him, and with one hand, he pushed the air forward, sending Alan’s body against the mirrors. Two Guild members in each side mirror held tight on his reins.

  Peepers unsheathed his black sword and floated across the room, stopping only inches in front of him. He looked down in contempt as Alan struggled to get free.

  Alan’s head snapped up. His icy glare pierced the depth of Peepers’ soulless black orbs. “Is this what you did in life as the Happy Clown Killer?” Alan scolded. “Yeah, that’s right. I know who you are.”

  Peepers stood confident and grinned. “Yes, yesnow share knowledge with them.” His arms flared out to waist level with his palms up as he turned to face Alan’s brother and friends. “Tell them Peepers’ plan. Tell of Happy Clown’s reign of terror. Bring fear to faces with details of my work.” With his back to Alan, Peepers basked in the growing horror in the faces of his soon to be six-course meal.

  “No, Peepers, that’s not what I meant. I know who you are, Peepers. I know your deepest, darkest secret. You are a coward. You’re the worst kind of coward.”

  Peepers’ body jerked around. His giant black clown nostrils flared from his angered breath.

  “You’re the one who’s afraid, Peepers,” Alan continued. “Everything scares you. That’s why you prey on people with fears. You’re trying to kill your own. You’re nothing but a psychopath coward who masks his own fears with the blood and terror of others. You are weak! You are constantly searching for someone weaker than yourself to give your existence meaning. And with every life you take, you become weaker. So go ahead, Peepers. Kill me. Take the life of another defenseless person, tied to a wall and outmatched by your immortality and the blade of your sword. Run me through, you frightened coward! Go on! Do it. Take another step toward hell, asshole!”

  Enraged over Alan’s insolence, Peepers growled as he turned. His growl amplified like an approaching locomotive along with the speed of his three-sixty rotation. At his peek of aggression, both his movement and thundering roar abruptly ended with a loud grunt. Frozen in a crouched position, he locked eyes with Alan’s. His sword hand was outstretched, its tip touching the floor at Alan’s side. Alan glanced down. Blood wicked through the fabric, quickly swallowing in red of the costume’s multicolored landscape.

  Alan’s knees buckled. The Guild clowns gave slack to the silk restraints, allowing him to slump to the floor. With both hands, he squeezed the five-inch gash midway on his right thigh.

  “Spirit of messenger return,” Peepers said. He straightened his lanky frame over Alan and raised the tip of his sword to his own mouth so could taste the blood.

  The music playing through the speakers abruptly stopped, interrupting Peepers from sampling Alan’s life energy. He looked up to the scorched shreds of black ceiling fabric barely concealing the darkened structure above. An unfamiliar mellow tune blared at full volume.

  Isn’t it bliss?

  Don’t you approve?

  Both of the Peepers moved and spun with their heads, searching to the ceiling, trying to see who was responsible for the music.

  One who keeps tearing around.

  One who can’t move.

  “It’s the girl,” Dale’s Peepers shouted.

  But where are the clowns?

  Send in the clowns.

  Send in the clowns.

  Send in the clowns.

  The last statement was locked in a loop, continuously replaying as something started happening all around the mirrored walls of the room. A fleet of tiny vehicles appeared to drive toward the surface of the mirrors, in the unoccupied three-quarters of the room’s circumference. As each parked, normal-looking clowns started exiting the vehicles. One after another, clowns flowed from the vehicles, quickly outnumbering the Guild clowns in the space. The creepy clowns securing Alan with scarves felt the pressure of the threatening force amassing around them. They dropped the scarves and screamed as they ran into the depths of the mirrors.

  Both Peepers looked back to the remaining Guild members. The clowns continued to grow in number, squeezing the Guild into a tight ball of creepiness. One out front bent down and crawled away between the legs of the others.

  “They do not exist!” Peepers yelled. The Guild ignored him, becoming more and more frightened. The new clowns ganged up to within inches of the Guild, taunting and threatening them with clenched fists and fighting gestures. Two more caved under the pressure and fled.

  Alan used the distraction to wrap his wound with one of the discarded scarves. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew the clowns were there to help.

  Four more Guild clowns escaped and the remaining group appeared to be on the verge of fleeing as their numbers continued to dwindle.

  “No! You must stay!” Peepers screamed. “This is trick.” Both Peepers moved to the sides of the room. Dale’s Peepers rammed his fist through the surface into the chest of a clown. His target instantly disappeared, replaced with the words:

  YOU LOSE!

  Please try your luck again in:

  CLOWN WORLD.

  “Mary!” Alan said to himself as he looked up.

  Peepers’ display was too late. The remaining Guild members were already turned away, shoving and stepping over each other in a panicked stampede for safety in the darkness.

  “Enough!” Peepers barked. He shoved his sword through a mirror and rushed around the room, slicing every last clown in half. Their bodies faded away, each replaced with a three-second display of the l
osing notice from Clown World. The room went silent.

  Peepers returned to his position in front of Alan.

  Still on the floor with his back to the mirror, Alan looked to the ceiling. “Mary! Run, get help.”

  Peepers was amused by Alan’s desperate plea for help. “Messenger spirit no match for Peepers’ control of Alan. Nobody in this world can save from Peepers.”

  “You’re wrong, Peepers. You have no control over me. I fell for your lies, but you never had any control over me.”

  Peepers grunted what sounded like a laugh. “Peepers control Alan in dreams since was fatherless. Peepers weaken body containing messenger spirit. Control Alan to make Peepers strong.”

  Alan thought he was getting better at understanding Peepers’ broken speech, but now he felt like he was back at square one. The only thing that made any sense to him was the part about his dreams. Was Peepers behind his lifetime of terrifying nightmares?

  “That was your doing? You’ve been terrifying my nights all these years? Why? Why me?” Alan said.

  “McGiggles,” Peepers replied.

  “McGiggles?” Alan repeated. “What the hell is a McGiggles, some sort of Happy Meal?” Alan’s suggestion triggered snorting laughter from the gagged Lyle across the room.

  “Peepers’ mentor, Happy McGiggles. Gift to see powerful spirits. Use living Peepers to free from body, release messenger spirits to McGiggles.”

  “What’s that have to do with me?” Alan asked.

  “Alan, McGiggles last spirit, most powerful of all before.”

  “Wait, what? Are you saying this McGiggles guy wants my spirit and you’re doing all of this to give it to him?”

  Frustrated, Peepers said, “McGiggles wrong! Break at death. Peepers smarter, plan greater. Weaken mind of human host. Use life energy of messenger spirit. Free Peepers, feed forever.”

  “You think I have some sort of powerful spirit? And now you think I’ll help you to kill more people? No way, I won’t do it,” Alan said.

  “Ha!” Peepers barked. “Alan too late. Peepers’ plan succeed. Peepers now take Happy McGiggles most desire. Peepers feast your spirit.”

  Peepers’ hands gripped his sword as he slowly raised it over his head. Alan stared back defiantly as Peepers’ back began to arch backwards until the tip of his sword pointed directly at Dale tied up behind him.

  At the peek of Peepers’ cocked position, Dale’s head tilted down. With a quick flick of his bound hands behind him, the only remaining sculpted figure of Peepers brushed over his hair as it was launched through the air. The Peepers attached to Dale reached out and evaporated in a swirl of black smoke. The figure was out of reach as it rocketed in the direction of Peepers’ outstretched sword. Lyle, Cracky, Joe, and Ringmaster anxiously watched what was likely to be their last hope for survival—Peepers destroying himself.

  Peepers remained motionless as he looked down and smirked at Alan. The airborne figure slipped more than a foot above the blade and disappeared through a burned section of fabric in the ceiling, where it clattered out of sight on the catwalk above. With all hopes dashed, the heads of all but Dale sunk in despair.

  With his sword still cocked, Peepers’ torso twisted until he faced Dale. “Son of Jack misjudge,” he said.

  With Peepers looking at Dale, movement from above drew Alan’s attention. It was Mary, pulling a tattered section of fabric to widen the opening.

  Dale’s eyes squinted from Peepers’ mention of his and Alan’s father’s name.

  “Soon set free. Confess to Jack, defeat at Peepers’ hand,” Peepers said. Then he turned back to Alan. Alan raised his hands above his head.

  Peepers laughed. “Who is coward now? Hands will not stop Peepers’ sword, coward.”

  Alan’s eyes retreated upward. “I hope it’s not too late, but I love you,” he said.

  Peepers enjoyed Alan’s final plea to his creator. “Your god cannot save messenger. Love is weak. Peepers great power.” He paused to enjoy the taste of Alan’s distress in his final moment of life. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before snapping forward. The blade sliced through the air on its way to split Alan’s body in two. As it neared the position of Alan’s hands, Peepers eyes reopened to bask in the visual pleasure of his art.

  As he peered through the slit of his eyes, the picture before him changed. Alan’s hands weren’t held up in defense or prayer. There was a familiar object held between them, a mere centimeter from the unstoppable momentum of his blade. It was his only remaining figure. The blade cut across the midsection of the statue and continued through. As it exited, the blade vanished, never reaching its intended target of destruction.

  The figure turned to dust in Alan’s hands. He looked in front of him to see a terrified Peepers fading away. The semi-transparent Peepers swiped his sword through Alan, to no effect. Then he charged across the room and slashed Dale’s neck, which resulted in a muffled giggle and a shoulder twinge from the tingling sensation.

  “NO!” Peepers screamed. His feckless tirade continued down the line, as he slashed his shadow weapon through the remaining captives.

  Alan stood and looked up at Mary. Half smiling and completely embarrassed, he confessed, “I know, too soon. I thought we might die.”

  She grinned and mouthed, “I love you too.”

  With his back to the wall, Alan heard someone clearing his throat from behind. He turned to see a sea of stoic Guild faces looking past him to their broken leader. Alan jumped to the side and watched their creepy clown costumes transform into black suits with white shirts, black ties and white gloves. Their exaggerated caricature faces melted away, revealing normal but tired human features.

  The fading image of Peepers shook violently as he fought to remain inside the room. As one, the Guild reached out their hands and mimed a pulling motion. Peepers couldn’t resist. His struggle was fruitless as they tugged him through the mirrors, where he returned to a solid form. One member pried his fingers from the sword, dropping it to the floor inside the mirrors. Peepers shrieked and his body convulsed as they raised him over their heads and carried him into the darkness. Permanently exiled from the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors, Peepers and his screams faded along with visions of the Guild.

  Mary switched the room lights on full, while Alan rushed across the room. Starting with Ringmaster, he removed the gag and reached for the rope securing his wrists behind his back. Suddenly Geno stormed into the room.

  “Back away, Alan,” he ordered with both hands aiming Dale’s pistol at him. In a kneeling position, Alan raised his hands.

  “It’s over, Geno. Peepers is gone,” Alan said.

  “It’s not over!” Geno yelled.

  “You don’t have to do this, Geno. It wasn’t your fault. He forced you—”

  “No!” Geno yelled. “It’s not over. It’s just the beginning. It’s my turn now. He can’t keep it from me anymore.”

  A screw clanged down the spiral stairway at the rear entry. Geno jerked his aim at the door.

  “I know you’re there. Leaving won’t do you any good. The cops were right behind me. Now step in here or I’ll kill your boyfriend,” Geno said.

  With her hands held up, Mary stepped into the room. Geno flicked the barrel of the gun to his left and she sidestepped until she was beside Lyle. Geno returned his aim to Alan. He took one hand off the gun and lowered it into his pocket and pulled out a key.

  “What are you doing, Geno? The police are right outside. Don’t do anything stupid,” Alan pleaded.

  “Shut up!” Geno said. He tossed the key to Alan. “You came here to destroy his mold, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That key opens a hidden compartment behind that panel.” He pointed to one of the mirrored panels. “The lock is in the bottom, in the frame. You need to promise me that you’ll destroy it.”

  “Of course. I promise, but why don’t you lower the gun so we can—”

  “Shut up and listen!” Geno inte
rrupted. “I’m trusting you. You’ll all stay alive because I’m trusting you to finish the job.”

  “Okay, you can trust me,” Alan said.

  Geno turned and walked to the front entrance. He bent and reached his fingers under the panel and found a hidden mechanism. With a tug, the door unlatched. Before passing through the opening, he turned back and looked at Ringmaster, still lying sideways on the floor, roped to the chair.

  “It’ll all be yours now, Ringmaster. See you on the flip side.” Geno smiled. Ringmaster’s eyes widened and his head shook.

  Geno started laughing. Then he turned and ran down the short pathway. His wicked laugh intensified and echoed throughout the Labyrinth. As he exited the building, three quick shots were fired, followed by dozens of rapid return fire.

  Alan and Mary rushed to release their friends. Within seconds of his release, the panicked Ringmaster ran crying for the door. With his hands raised over his head, he repeatedly yelled, “Don’t shoot,” as he exited the building.

  Two officers stormed through the rear door. Mary barely finished untying Dale when he jumped out of the chair with his hands out in front of him.

  “Put the guns down, guys. Everyone is safe,” Dale said. The officers lowered their guns and one asked Dale what happened. Dale glanced over to Alan, who was loosening Lyle’s rope. Alan smiled and shrugged. Everyone else looked away in the hopes that they wouldn’t be asked the same question.

  “Uh…” Dale stalled. “What happened to Geno?”

  “You mean the guy who kidnapped all of you and ran out shooting at us?” an officer replied.

  “Yeah, him. I guess you answered my question. Was anyone hit?” Dale said.

  “No, he aimed high and only got off three shots before we dropped him.”

  With everyone untied, the officers began escorting the group from the building. Alan resisted.

  “No, there’s something I need to do first,” he said. The officer stood in his way but Dale put his hand on the officer’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Tommy. He’s my brother. Give him a minute. We’ll wait outside.” The officer shrugged and walked out with Dale.