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"The Truth About Clowns" by placebo_533
At the beginning of Autumn, the clowns started to appear. They came out at night mostly. They would stand in the middle of the street, and watch you. They would peer into windows. You might find them looming in the dark at a park, at the local shop - anywhere and everywhere they appeared. They were all a little different. Some tall, some short, some with white faces, some without. Usually they had a wide red smile. If you saw one and tried to walk away, the smile would follow you. They hid around corners and behind bushes. Alone at night, you could hear their big shoes squeaking and honking with each step as they followed you...
“And if they ever catch you, they’ll turn you into an evil clown too!” Jana screamed, twisting her hands into claws. She laughed heartily as her two younger guests squealed with fright. Her best friend Lydia was not impressed, and crossed her arms.
“Clowns aren’t scary. They make silly faces and do magic. That’s not evil.”
Jana scowled, clearly disappointed that her frightful rendition of the current clown crisis was having no effect on a third of her audience.
“They are too scary! Some clowns can turn into Spyders! And grow into giants! And eat you up like an omelette!” At this, the two young Xweetoks – Daisy and James - held each other and squealed again. James started to blubber, causing Jana to wrinkle her nose in distaste.
“You're too little to appreciate what a good warning I’m giving you.” She said, shaking a finger in his face, “You just go follow the adults around. You can’t defend yourselves against the clowns anyway. You’d be turned into a clown pie in seconds.” She said snootily.
Hearing they were defenceless, the two little children ran wildly back to the house, where the grown-ups were having a hushed conversation.
“Clowns really aren’t scary.” Lydia said, picking at a spot of dried hot chocolate on her jeans. She’d worn her best pair to the party, just as her mother said she should, and Lydia never let a good pair of jeans go to waste. She’d already ripped the hem of one leg and covered the knees with grass stains before her mother had finished saying ‘hello’ at the door.
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