Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 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 Five




  As far back as I can remember, I’ve always dressed up as a clown for Halloween. Every. Single. Year. Without fail. It was somewhat due to the fact that my family was poor, and we couldn’t afford a new costume every year. I didn’t give a fuck about that. I had to be a clown every year. If I wasn’t, I’d get very, very, very…upset. 

    But every year, I was a clown. Without fail. Usually, Halloween was my favorite holiday, and I always looked forward to it. Except this year. This year’s Halloween had already started off badly. It seemed like everything that could go wrong was, indeed, going wrong. 

   For starters, my mother had just up and abandoned me completely. It had been a few weeks since she’d left, and I waited at the front door for her to return since my father had become a little more lenient on me being kept in the pantry all day and night. But…she never did. She never even came back for me. 

   Pretty soon, it was Halloween. I was hoping that this day would lift my spirits, that I’d feel even the slightest bit better. But…I felt nothing. It didn’t matter that Halloween was finally here. I still felt down in the dumps, as if I was sad. Overtime I’d gotten used to feeling sad, since I felt it every day. But today it hit me worse than usual, which made me angry. 

    As the sun was beginning to set, I headed to the laundry room to grab my clown costume. It had just finished getting dried, and it was quickly getting dark outside. I needed to get a move on if I wanted to scare as many little kids as I possibly could before they all went home. Every year I tried to set a new record for myself to scare more kids; and this year I was determined to beat it. 

  When I got to the laundry room however, my heart nearly stopped as I saw my clown costume lying scattered on the floor. The first thing I noticed was that the drier door was opened a little somehow. I briefly wondered if I hadn’t closed it properly, but I know for a fact I had. Then, as I continued to look around, I could see that it looked like someone had torn up my costume. 

   Torn it to shreds. 

   Panicked, I bent down and tried to see if I could find anything that was salvageable. When I couldn’t find anything but half a pant’s leg, my fake red nose, and my makeup, anger boiled within me. I quickly began to realize what had happened, and fury blinded me so much that all I could see was red.

   Even though I was livid, I managed to form one conclusion as to what had happened. I knew sometimes my father let out our Rottweiler dog, to roam the house freely. (My father would let that damn dog out more than he ever did with me.) Anyways, the dog must have wondered into the laundry room, saw my costume hanging out of the dryer, and decided to tear it up. 

   Just my fucking luck. 

   Anger swelled up inside of me so much that my hands began to shake at my sides. Before I could do anything to stop myself, I storm over towards the kitchen. 

   In my blind rage, I start rummaging through all of the kitchen drawers. I was so furious that I couldn’t even breathe right. My breathing was coming out in quick, rapid huffs. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What was worse, a voice inside my head was urging me to do something terrible. To solve the problem, so to speak. 

   You know what you have to do. Kill him. Now. 

   That was the only clear thought I could understand at the moment. Part of me didn’t want to follow through and obey the voice. But, the part of me that was absolutely seething with rage said: Fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck everything. 

   My life had been complete shit up until now, and this…my clown costume getting destroyed…was just the icing on the cake. How could my life get any worse? 

   Finally, I found it. The largest kitchen knife I could find. It was a bread knife which was about seven inches long with a razor sharp edge. I grin when I see it and hold it in my hand. For some reason, holding the knife just felt…so…right.

   Perfect, I think. 

   Now, the only thing left was to find my father. Where oh where could he be? Nervously, I hide the knife behind my back as I crept around my house, searching for him. He’s probably either in his bedroom sleeping or in the living room. 

    As I keep searching for him, I could hear the voice in my head grow louder and louder. Egging me on. Eventually it rose so loud that I could no longer hear my own self think anymore. 

    Hurry, kill him. Halloween is almost over. Hurry! Hurry!

   Finally, I find him. He’s passed out in the living room, an empty beer bottle in his hand. The tv is still on, but it’s just static now. Many beer bottles litter the floor; I wasn’t good at counting, so I didn’t bother to count exactly how many. But they were everywhere. 

   Slowly, very slowly, I raise the knife in front of me. At first, I want to back out of this. I’m too squeamish and timid to follow through. I know I shouldn’t do it either. But, like I’d said before, it didn’t matter. This is what he gets for killing my brother all those years ago, and for letting my costume get destroyed.

  No one would miss the bastard anyways. 

   Then, while my father slept, I hear the voice again, this time so loud that it hurts my ears. 


   Finally, I cave in. Raising the knife as high as I can with my feeble hand, I plunge it into my father’s heart, driving it as deeply as I possibly can. It’s hard because I’m not that strong. To my surprise, my father wakes up, gasping for air. He looks at me with complete horror and disbelief, but I keep pressing the knife in deeper and deeper. And deeper. 

   As I press the knife in his chest, he finally stops breathing. When he does, I drop the knife and step back, grinning as a sense of relief washes over me.




   I’m not exactly sure how long we’ve been trapped here for. Has it really only been 24 hours? I was trying to keep track earlier, but in here, in this dank, tiny cave, you have absolutely no sense of time. No sense of knowing whether it’s daylight or dark outside. No sense of anything, really. 

   It’s driving me crazy. 

   But what’s driving me even crazier is the fact that Cameron is dead. His dead body is still slumped over in the chair across from me. I stare at it in complete disbelief, my whole body cold from numbness. No matter how hard I tried, for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. Maybe it was the shock, but I really didn’t know why. 

   What frightens me the most right now is that I don’t know where the clown went. After broadcasting Cam’s death on TV, he just…disappeared. Retreated somewhere in his cave. Now, Paige and I were still locked in our little cell, terrified of when he comes back. I know we have to try and get out before he does, but how? I had no key, not even any Bobby pins to try and pick the lock with. 

   “Hey Maddie?”

    I tear my eyes away from Cam and glance over at Paige. Her voice sounds small and timid, almost childlike. She sniffles as she wipes away some tears that stream down her face. 


   “Promise me that when you get out of here, you’ll tell my parents I said I love them. Okay? Please, tell them how much I love them. You know…in case I don’t…in case I don’t…make it.”

   Paige begins to sob uncontrollably, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them as she buries her head. I cross over to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her body racks with sobs. 

    “Hey, don’t talk like that okay, Paige? We’re going to get out of here. Together. You hear me? You and I are going to see our families and tell them what happened to Cam so he can get a proper burial. We’re going to be just fine. Understand?”

   I try to put as much determination in my voice as possible, but my voice sounds unconvincing, even to me. I’m hoping Paige doesn’t hear it. She continues to sob as I hold her tightly, trying to keep it together myself. I wipe a few stray tears from my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. Because if I start crying, that means I’ll have begun to lose hope. 

   And I’m not ready to do that yet. 

   Hours pass, and the cave is eerily quiet. Somewhere close by, water drips from the ceiling, hitting the ground so loudly that it echos throughout the cave. It’s so silent that you can hear a pin drop. 

   But just as I get used to the deafening 

 silence, I hear heavy footsteps coming towards us. Panic begins to swell up inside of me, my heart pounding so hard that I feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest. Next to me, Paige begins to have a full-on panic attack, hyperventilating as we hear the clown draw nearer, and nearer to us. I do my best to calm her down, but it’s no use. 

    Finally, we see him emerge from the hallway. The clown drags what seem to be heavy iron chains that rattle as they drag on the ground. It seems as if he’s even struggling to haul them down here, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He has a huge grin on his face, as if he’s excited for something. I swallow nervously, trying to figure out what he plans on doing next. But down in my heart, I know that whatever happens next isn’t going to be good. 

   The clown is now only ten feet away from us. He throws the chains down, which make a loud CRASH! as they hit the floor, making both Paige and I jump. 

   Next, the clown stays standing for a minute as he catches his breath. He breathes heavily, as if dragging those chains was a huge workout for him. Then, after he composes himself, the clown begins making his way over towards us. 


  Paige cries desperately as the clown continues heading towards us. Her cries echo around the cave, but I’m not sure how far they’re actually traveling. Can they reach the end of the cave at all?    

   Probably not.

   The clown reaches our cage and begins glancing back and forth between us. First he locks eyes with me, then glances at Paige. Then he goes back to me, and repeats. This goes on for several long, antagonizing minutes. 

   “This little kitty is beginning to annoy me,” he says.

   Suddenly, before I can react, the clown begins to undo our lock. Once it’s unlocked, he reaches for Paige and grabs her by the throat. I grab her hand, trying desperately to keep her inside the cell, but it’s no use. 

    As soon as the clown gets a good grip on Paige, he drags her out of the cell and locks the door back with one hand. Paige kicks and screams, terrified, as the clown drags her, then throws her onto the ground like a rag doll. 

   While the clown goes over and grabs the iron chains, Paige tries to get up, but she can’t. The clown is too fast. Somehow, within a matter of seconds, he grabs the chains and throws them around Paige so fast that she doesn’t even have time to stand up. I watch in horror as the clown proceeds to wrap the iron chains around Paige’s body while she’s standing. 

   “Please, let her go! Please! Kill me instead, just kill me! Don’t hurt her, please!” I beg, feeling completely helpless. 

   “No no no! This little kitty got on my last nerves, so we’re going to play a little game! Let me just turn on the TV first, then the game can begin!” The clown says, his voice high pitched and shrill. 

   I watch as he crosses over towards the TV and switches it on. He picks up his microphone, taps it several times to make sure it’s on, then starts talking. 

   “Good evening all my wonderful viewers! Welcome back to another game! This one is sadly not my favorite, but it’s still fun to play! It’s called, “Time and Torture!” The rules are simple: see how long it takes for your captive to die while you torture them! Let’s begin shall we!?”

   “Stop! Please let me go! Please! I don’t wanna die! Please!“ Paige cries out, tears falling down her face. 

   “Shut up, your yelling is making me very angry!” The clown yells, slapping page across the face so hard that her head turns. 

   I wince as he takes out a taser and uses it on Paige’s neck. She screams in pure agony, her body writhing in pain. Tears pour from my eyes as I cling to the bars of my cage, wishing with everything in me that I could save my friend. But no amount of pleading or begging the clown for me to take Paige’s place changes his mind. He’s dead set on torturing her. 


    For the next several hours, I watch helplessly as Paige is tortured. She’s tased several more times, and the clown constantly places a plastic bag over her head to suffocate her, but every time she’s about to die, the clown removes it. He then waits for her to pass out, then repeats the process. 

   My mind can’t understand why this clown is torturing and killing us off one by one. Was it really because we’d accidentally stumbled into his home? It didn’t make any sense. But…I guess living this deep into the clown tunnel would make anybody crazy.

   Hours later, I can tell Paige is alive, but barley. She’s hardly moving now, and I can still see her breathing, but I hear it come out in slow, shallow breaths. My mind is racing, trying to come up with a way to save her. I promised her that she would get out of here with me. That we’d be able to see our families again, and tell our parents that we love them. I had to keep my promise.

   “Paige? Paige wake up, please wake up. Please! Remember what we said? That we’d see our families again? Remember I promised that we’d get out of here?? You have to stay alive Paige, please! Don’t give up!” I cry, desperation in my voice. 

    “Uh oh, this little kitty is annoying me now too! She’d better keep her mouth shut if she wants to live!” The clown yells into the microphone.

   “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just let Paige go, ok? I promise!” I tell the clown.

  “Promises promises,” he says, his voice getting a little bit lower as he speaks into the microphone, “promises are funny. LIKE A BALLOON!” 

   Suddenly, the clown laughs so maniacally and so loud, that I can’t even hear Paige scream anymore. Then, the next thing I know, the clown stabs Paige right through her heart with a nine inch bread knife. In that moment, it’s as if time slows down completely. 

   I watch the life slowly drain out of Paige’s eyes as her face goes completely white. She struggles to breathe for only a few moments, then, soon, she stops breathing completely. My heart shatters into a million pieces as I watch my best friend lose her life. 



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