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by dream_keeper88
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White, puffy cumulus clouds sailed across the vast blue sky above me, the sun giving off a warm glow as I strolled down the park. Variegated flowers adorned the green carpet of grass with vibrant colours on both sides inviting me to aim my camera and shoot.
Carefully kneeling on the ground, I focused my lens on a monarch pollinating a red daisy. Already on half-press, my finger was about to push the button all the way when all of a sudden, a loud piercing cry scared the pretty insect away, ruining my artistic shot.
A little boy came running past me, tears flowing down his chubby, plum cheeks. “Mommy, mommy!!” he wailed, “Help me!!”
Turning my gaze towards the direction where he came from, I saw a man following the little boy, a balloon in his outstretched hand. Red curly hair, a white face, and a red ball for a nose – he is a clown, a person that should bring happiness but ironically, scares little children. Thanks to society who turned them into monsters.
He bowed apologetically at the woman, sadness reflected in his face. In response, the boy’s mother nodded and gave him a small smile. He stood there watching the retreating figure of the kind woman as she left the park, carrying her wailing son.
With slumped shoulders, he walked back to the center of the park, heaving a deep sigh.
“Wait!”
I know better not to meddle with other people’s business but this one is a special case.
He turned around slowly to meet my gaze, giving me a puzzled look.
“Well, don’t be discouraged by it. Continue to spread happiness, because people need it,” I tried to sound cheerful as I could. The clown finally smiled and bowed in appreciation before heading off to his station at the park. My eyes stayed on his back until he was gone out of my sight.
Memories of years past flashed right before me as the familiar feeling of guilt and pain crept to my heart once again. “I too, once feared clowns.”
He was wearing colourful, polka dot long sleeves paired with baggy pants and suspenders when I first saw him. Laughter filled the room as the clown performed hilarious tricks and stunts. It was supposed to be my fourth birthday party, but it became a horrifying nightmare. No one knows that I am scared of them. Blame it to the media. My cousin was watching Batman one night and since then, Joker haunted me in my sleep with his sinister laugh and evil eyes. The images were always vivid even when I’m wide awake.
It was fine, as long as he didn’t come near me, but that clown just had to sneak behind my back and scared the life out of me. Terrified, I ran down the empty corridors and entered the farthest room to the left. My legs were still shaking as I crawled under a table and hugged my knees tight. I closed my eyes, rocking myself back and forth, thinking happy thoughts like Peter Pan, but to no avail. My heart was still racing rapidly and I am sweating profusely. The door squeaked open and numbness washed all over me. Then, I heard footsteps approaching, getting louder and louder. I covered my mouth. Suddenly, the clown’s face popped in front of me.
I let out a high pitched scream and bolted towards the door, “Stay away from me!! Don’t come near me!”
I managed to push him a few steps back. “Corinne, wa-wait…”
I ran as fast as my legs could carry but I could still hear his voice getting louder and louder, “Wait, wait!! You dropped this. I was just returning it to you.”
His voice doesn’t sound creepy at all. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. He had one hand over his head, and the other was reaching out to me, my bracelet in his palm. I stared at him, then at his hand, then back at him. His eyes seemed to be smiling at me. This clown isn’t Joker, for underneath the white and red paint, I somehow saw a kind and gentle face. I reached out for my bracelet, my hand lightly touching his. We stood there in peaceful silence and it was then that my fear was completely washed away.
A few years wiser and a few inches taller, I remained a friend to Shelly the clown. It has been part of my routine to drop by his workplace after school.
“Girl problems?” I asked as I found him slumped on the staircase in the shabby building complex he was working at.
“Yes. You are a smart one,” he chuckled, patting my head.
“How could you still laugh?” I asked incredulously. “You are really weird,” I sighed taking the empty space next to him. “You laugh when someone throws fresh eggs at you. You laugh when we watch scary movies. You laugh when you fall on your butt. Now that your girlfriend left you, you are still laughing. Unbelievable.” I flung my arms in the air in exasperation. “Why do you always laugh?” I asked crossing my arms.
“Oh, I don’t know. Got used to it, I guess,” he replied casually.
“You laugh out of habit?!” I almost half-screamed at him with my brow arched, a bit annoyed. “That’s not good.”
“Huh?” My friend could be dumb sometimes as he gave me this confused look.
“I mean… you should laugh when you are happy, cry when you are sad, scream when angry...” I was an eight year old lecturing an adult.
“Is it that bad if I just laugh?”
My jaw dropped at his question as he blinked at me innocently.
“Well, people would think that you are not taking things seriously,” I simply stated, watching strangers as they walked past us.
“Yeah, I guess you are right. That’s what she told me when she left the house,” he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and I once again heard that laughter of his. In seconds, I found myself laughing with him.
His laughter is a high-pitched ‘AHAHAHA’ that would gradually soften, and then rise up again, like waves and I can’t help but be infected with his contagious laugh.
After that long period of just laughing endlessly with our hands in our stomachs and faces flushed, I finally calmed down a bit. I stood up, brushed my skirt then smiled again at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you find that happy laughter, that unique kind of laughter that would distinguish it from your nervous, sad or other laughter.” My friend just nodded and smiled at me in reply.
Days passed and we were still on the quest of finding his happy laughter. We went on rides at the amusement park, got taunted by mean boys, watched a puppet show, a horror movie and a musical, took photos with cosplayers, played in the arcade – in short, we goofed around, laughing to our hearts content at our adventures and misadventures. In the end, our mission failed miserably.
I was close to giving up when I heard a deep sounding laughter, echoing in the hallway of the school one late afternoon. It was like water springing up from a deep well, creating ripples of happiness. I sprinted as fast as I could to the direction of the sound.
The door to my left suddenly flew open and I almost fell on my back. A man fell on the floor, clutching his large tummy, as he rolled from side to side. He was laughing so hard, tears were flowing down his red cheeks.
I could feel my heart pump in excitement; maybe, just maybe, this teacher knows about happy laughter. Stepping closer, I noticed gas coming from the room. It was then that I noticed that he was holding a plastic mask with a tube connected to some tank.
My heart fell to my stomach. It was laughing gas. Frustrated, I retraced my steps back to the gate when his voice pulled me back.
“Student, why do you look so sad all of a sudden?” he asked while pushing himself up with one hand. The effect of the gas still lingered as he tried to stifle his laughter that was about to erupt again.
I sighed, “I thought I heard a happy laughter.”
“Isn’t all laughter, supposed to be happy?” a bright smile swept across his chubby face. “Even it was just laughing gas, I felt happy.”
His reply got me thinking as I answered back with uncertainty, “Ye-yes.”
This bald teacher remained looking at me, anticipating. I then began telling him about my clown friend, “Well, you see teacher. I have this friend who laughs at everything.” Surprisingly, this teacher gave his undivided attention, nodding every now and then as I consulted to him about Shelly. “So, I am helping him find his happy laughter.”
I glanced up at him the moment I finished and he had this soft expression in his face.
“Well maybe, you were looking for something that was there all along. My father told me that a man who laughs, counts everything as all joy.”
I gave him an odd look that prompted him to explain further.
“Add all the positive and negative things in one’s life. Sum it all up and the total would be joy. If your friend Shelly is this kind of man, I am pretty sure that you have been hearing his happy laughter.”
I darted out of the school grounds in my bicycle with a grin plastered on my face, excitement bursting inside of me. The sensation growing in the pits of my stomach, reaching my chest as I finally exploded into laughter. I finally found the answer. “Shelly will be happy to hear this. Well, that guy is always happy,” I giggled.
As I turned to the left, red lights flashed before me and the blaring of the sirens deafened me. My heart thumped wildly against my chest as a strange feeling rushed through me. With all the strength I got, I pedalled as quickly as I could.
Taking one last turn, I saw police men everywhere and people crowded the area. Squeezing my way through the crowd, my eyes widened in shock at the scene before me. Yellow tape surrounded the rundown building. There was a massive blood pool and bullet casings scattered on the cement. I gaped, fear numbing the insides of me.
“Where’s Shelly?”
I frantically searched around, looking for that familiar face that would just laugh this off. Then I heard some of the adults talking. There was a shoot-out. Robbers from the neighbouring town took refuge inside the building complex. They said a little boy came out of nowhere and was in the line of fire, frozen in fear. The clown who was feared by little kids saved one, in exchange for his life. Realization hit me like flashes of lightning and everything went dark.
It was a sunny day and I was alone in the memorial park, staring at a gravestone with his name engraved on it.
“YOU IDIOT!!” I yelled at the stone in front of me. “How dare you bail out on our mission? After finding your happy laughter, you just go off somewhere without telling me,” I huffed, my arms akimbo. “I just came here to tell you…” I swallowed hard. “To tell you that, you have your happy laughter all this time,” my eyes squinted fighting back the tears. Taking a deep breath, I forced out the words that I wanted to tell him. “When you are sad, angry or even scared, it’s okay to laugh…”
“…for a man who laughs, counts everything as joy,” I heard my voice say.
I broke off from my daze and realized that I was still standing at the same spot inside the park. Drops of liquid fell on my skin and I looked up at the clear sky, “It’s raining again.”
“Yah, I’ll just laugh okay? It’s okay to laugh,” I nodded to myself and broke out in a fit of laughter.
And I swear, from a distance, I could hear that oh-so familiar laughter, that rises and drops like the waves, washing all my sorrows away.
Carefully kneeling on the ground, I focused my lens on a monarch pollinating a red daisy. Already on half-press, my finger was about to push the button all the way when all of a sudden, a loud piercing cry scared the pretty insect away, ruining my artistic shot.
A little boy came running past me, tears flowing down his chubby, plum cheeks. “Mommy, mommy!!” he wailed, “Help me!!”
Turning my gaze towards the direction where he came from, I saw a man following the little boy, a balloon in his outstretched hand. Red curly hair, a white face, and a red ball for a nose – he is a clown, a person that should bring happiness but ironically, scares little children. Thanks to society who turned them into monsters.
He bowed apologetically at the woman, sadness reflected in his face. In response, the boy’s mother nodded and gave him a small smile. He stood there watching the retreating figure of the kind woman as she left the park, carrying her wailing son.
With slumped shoulders, he walked back to the center of the park, heaving a deep sigh.
“Wait!”
I know better not to meddle with other people’s business but this one is a special case.
He turned around slowly to meet my gaze, giving me a puzzled look.
“Well, don’t be discouraged by it. Continue to spread happiness, because people need it,” I tried to sound cheerful as I could. The clown finally smiled and bowed in appreciation before heading off to his station at the park. My eyes stayed on his back until he was gone out of my sight.
Memories of years past flashed right before me as the familiar feeling of guilt and pain crept to my heart once again. “I too, once feared clowns.”
He was wearing colourful, polka dot long sleeves paired with baggy pants and suspenders when I first saw him. Laughter filled the room as the clown performed hilarious tricks and stunts. It was supposed to be my fourth birthday party, but it became a horrifying nightmare. No one knows that I am scared of them. Blame it to the media. My cousin was watching Batman one night and since then, Joker haunted me in my sleep with his sinister laugh and evil eyes. The images were always vivid even when I’m wide awake.
It was fine, as long as he didn’t come near me, but that clown just had to sneak behind my back and scared the life out of me. Terrified, I ran down the empty corridors and entered the farthest room to the left. My legs were still shaking as I crawled under a table and hugged my knees tight. I closed my eyes, rocking myself back and forth, thinking happy thoughts like Peter Pan, but to no avail. My heart was still racing rapidly and I am sweating profusely. The door squeaked open and numbness washed all over me. Then, I heard footsteps approaching, getting louder and louder. I covered my mouth. Suddenly, the clown’s face popped in front of me.
I let out a high pitched scream and bolted towards the door, “Stay away from me!! Don’t come near me!”
I managed to push him a few steps back. “Corinne, wa-wait…”
I ran as fast as my legs could carry but I could still hear his voice getting louder and louder, “Wait, wait!! You dropped this. I was just returning it to you.”
His voice doesn’t sound creepy at all. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. He had one hand over his head, and the other was reaching out to me, my bracelet in his palm. I stared at him, then at his hand, then back at him. His eyes seemed to be smiling at me. This clown isn’t Joker, for underneath the white and red paint, I somehow saw a kind and gentle face. I reached out for my bracelet, my hand lightly touching his. We stood there in peaceful silence and it was then that my fear was completely washed away.
A few years wiser and a few inches taller, I remained a friend to Shelly the clown. It has been part of my routine to drop by his workplace after school.
“Girl problems?” I asked as I found him slumped on the staircase in the shabby building complex he was working at.
“Yes. You are a smart one,” he chuckled, patting my head.
“How could you still laugh?” I asked incredulously. “You are really weird,” I sighed taking the empty space next to him. “You laugh when someone throws fresh eggs at you. You laugh when we watch scary movies. You laugh when you fall on your butt. Now that your girlfriend left you, you are still laughing. Unbelievable.” I flung my arms in the air in exasperation. “Why do you always laugh?” I asked crossing my arms.
“Oh, I don’t know. Got used to it, I guess,” he replied casually.
“You laugh out of habit?!” I almost half-screamed at him with my brow arched, a bit annoyed. “That’s not good.”
“Huh?” My friend could be dumb sometimes as he gave me this confused look.
“I mean… you should laugh when you are happy, cry when you are sad, scream when angry...” I was an eight year old lecturing an adult.
“Is it that bad if I just laugh?”
My jaw dropped at his question as he blinked at me innocently.
“Well, people would think that you are not taking things seriously,” I simply stated, watching strangers as they walked past us.
“Yeah, I guess you are right. That’s what she told me when she left the house,” he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and I once again heard that laughter of his. In seconds, I found myself laughing with him.
His laughter is a high-pitched ‘AHAHAHA’ that would gradually soften, and then rise up again, like waves and I can’t help but be infected with his contagious laugh.
After that long period of just laughing endlessly with our hands in our stomachs and faces flushed, I finally calmed down a bit. I stood up, brushed my skirt then smiled again at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you find that happy laughter, that unique kind of laughter that would distinguish it from your nervous, sad or other laughter.” My friend just nodded and smiled at me in reply.
Days passed and we were still on the quest of finding his happy laughter. We went on rides at the amusement park, got taunted by mean boys, watched a puppet show, a horror movie and a musical, took photos with cosplayers, played in the arcade – in short, we goofed around, laughing to our hearts content at our adventures and misadventures. In the end, our mission failed miserably.
I was close to giving up when I heard a deep sounding laughter, echoing in the hallway of the school one late afternoon. It was like water springing up from a deep well, creating ripples of happiness. I sprinted as fast as I could to the direction of the sound.
The door to my left suddenly flew open and I almost fell on my back. A man fell on the floor, clutching his large tummy, as he rolled from side to side. He was laughing so hard, tears were flowing down his red cheeks.
I could feel my heart pump in excitement; maybe, just maybe, this teacher knows about happy laughter. Stepping closer, I noticed gas coming from the room. It was then that I noticed that he was holding a plastic mask with a tube connected to some tank.
My heart fell to my stomach. It was laughing gas. Frustrated, I retraced my steps back to the gate when his voice pulled me back.
“Student, why do you look so sad all of a sudden?” he asked while pushing himself up with one hand. The effect of the gas still lingered as he tried to stifle his laughter that was about to erupt again.
I sighed, “I thought I heard a happy laughter.”
“Isn’t all laughter, supposed to be happy?” a bright smile swept across his chubby face. “Even it was just laughing gas, I felt happy.”
His reply got me thinking as I answered back with uncertainty, “Ye-yes.”
This bald teacher remained looking at me, anticipating. I then began telling him about my clown friend, “Well, you see teacher. I have this friend who laughs at everything.” Surprisingly, this teacher gave his undivided attention, nodding every now and then as I consulted to him about Shelly. “So, I am helping him find his happy laughter.”
I glanced up at him the moment I finished and he had this soft expression in his face.
“Well maybe, you were looking for something that was there all along. My father told me that a man who laughs, counts everything as all joy.”
I gave him an odd look that prompted him to explain further.
“Add all the positive and negative things in one’s life. Sum it all up and the total would be joy. If your friend Shelly is this kind of man, I am pretty sure that you have been hearing his happy laughter.”
I darted out of the school grounds in my bicycle with a grin plastered on my face, excitement bursting inside of me. The sensation growing in the pits of my stomach, reaching my chest as I finally exploded into laughter. I finally found the answer. “Shelly will be happy to hear this. Well, that guy is always happy,” I giggled.
As I turned to the left, red lights flashed before me and the blaring of the sirens deafened me. My heart thumped wildly against my chest as a strange feeling rushed through me. With all the strength I got, I pedalled as quickly as I could.
Taking one last turn, I saw police men everywhere and people crowded the area. Squeezing my way through the crowd, my eyes widened in shock at the scene before me. Yellow tape surrounded the rundown building. There was a massive blood pool and bullet casings scattered on the cement. I gaped, fear numbing the insides of me.
“Where’s Shelly?”
I frantically searched around, looking for that familiar face that would just laugh this off. Then I heard some of the adults talking. There was a shoot-out. Robbers from the neighbouring town took refuge inside the building complex. They said a little boy came out of nowhere and was in the line of fire, frozen in fear. The clown who was feared by little kids saved one, in exchange for his life. Realization hit me like flashes of lightning and everything went dark.
It was a sunny day and I was alone in the memorial park, staring at a gravestone with his name engraved on it.
“YOU IDIOT!!” I yelled at the stone in front of me. “How dare you bail out on our mission? After finding your happy laughter, you just go off somewhere without telling me,” I huffed, my arms akimbo. “I just came here to tell you…” I swallowed hard. “To tell you that, you have your happy laughter all this time,” my eyes squinted fighting back the tears. Taking a deep breath, I forced out the words that I wanted to tell him. “When you are sad, angry or even scared, it’s okay to laugh…”
“…for a man who laughs, counts everything as joy,” I heard my voice say.
I broke off from my daze and realized that I was still standing at the same spot inside the park. Drops of liquid fell on my skin and I looked up at the clear sky, “It’s raining again.”
“Yah, I’ll just laugh okay? It’s okay to laugh,” I nodded to myself and broke out in a fit of laughter.
And I swear, from a distance, I could hear that oh-so familiar laughter, that rises and drops like the waves, washing all my sorrows away.
THE END.
Word Count: 2040 (max. 3000)
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PyaariSammu on says about chapter 1:
I feel like I've read a story somewhere with the same name, but this was really great!
batman on says about chapter 1:
This was absolutely amazing. :o
giraffehugger on says about chapter 1:
THIS remains as one of my faves. ^_^
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