Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang



Willie the Clown: Part One




I remember that day all too clearly. Every single detail. I remember hearing my brother crying, sobbing uncontrollably. He was nine at the time, and I was seven. Even though he was only two years older than me, I remember thinking in the back of my head “grow up, stop acting like such a crybaby.” I didn’t know what he was sobbing about then. But soon, very soon, I found out.

It was all over the news papers. What happened to my brother. After hearing him sobbing from inside of my room, aka, the kitchen pantry, I thought it was weird that I never heard him anymore after that day. I could usually hear him talking to my father, but lately the house had been pretty quiet.

Eerily quiet.

One day, my father opened the closet and threw a newspaper at my face. I could hardly read, so at first I didn’t know what it said, or what was happening. But, as I stared at the front page article, my entire body went numb, and I felt my face turn pale.

“This is all your fault, you little shit! Your brother ran away, and now he’s gone! We have no idea where he is!”

My father proceeds to scream even more obscenities in my face as I stared at the newspaper. As I tried to process what was happening, I realized that I didn’t understand why my father was blaming me for my brother’s disappearance. I know they’d gotten into some kind of argument the other night, and now…my brother was just…gone? Without any warning? Without any explanation? I shook my head. No. It didn’t make any sense.

“Well, good riddance to him, I don’t give a damn if they find him or not. One less mouth for me to feed.”

With that, my father slammed the pantry door, and I was left alone. I stared at the newspaper until I eventually fell asleep. I still didn’t understand how any of this was my fault. I knew my father was just trying to put the blame on anybody else. Because this was all his fault. My brother disappeared because of my father’s abusive behavior and neglect.

And what was worse…he left me behind.




    “Cam, Cameron stop recording! Cam I mean it,” I giggle as I shove my boyfriend Cameron’s phone out of my face.

He flashes his cute, dorky grin at me, “Oh come on, Maddie we need to start recording our lines for our art project,” he says, still recording me.

“That’s not due until Friday, Cam. Plus I thought we were going to start working on that when we got home,” I say as I hoist my backpack over my shoulders. The last bell of the day rings, signaling the end of school. Finally.

Cameron listens to me and puts down his phone, “Yeah, yeah, I know I just wanted to get it over with. Plus, you look so pretty on camera I couldn’t resist filming you for a bit.”

I feel myself blush as I shove Cameron playfully. Just then my best friend, Paige comes up from behind us.

“Hey guys! So are we still on for tonight?” She says, jumping up and down with excitement.

“Shh Paige keep your voice down! I don’t want anybody knowing we’re going to the clown tunnel,” Cam says, whispering.

“Huh? Why? What does it matter if people know we’re going there or not?”

“Because I don’t want other kids showing up. It’ll ruin our art project,” Cam says, frowning.

“Fine I’ll shut up about it. But we’re still going, right?” Paige asks again.

“Yes, of course we’re still going. Why, you wanna back out now?” Cam asks, smiling slyly.

Paige rolls her eyes, “Me? Scared? Hell no, I’m totally psyched about this! I think Maddie’s scared though.”

Paige and Cameron start busting out laughing. I fold my arms over my chest, annoyed at them.

“Shut up guys, you know I’m not into this spooky, paranormal ghost stuff,” I say, staring down at the floor.

“Yeah, but we’ll be fine. There’s nothing to be scared of, babe,” Cam says, kissing me on the forehead.

“Sure, killer clowns aren’t scary at all,” I say sarcastically.

That night, we gather up all the supplies we need for filming our art project. We bring flashlights, snacks, and several cameras to film with. It takes us a while to find the notorious “clown tunnel” but finally, we find it.

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