The Clown

The Clown

A Story by Bryan
"

Its a flash fiction that I wrote for school. I tried to control the repetition and use it to my advantage. Its also a little creepy!

"

The paint dripped quickly down his face, the rain had washed away his smile. The clown that once was happy, now looked disfigured and scary. Slowly, he walked down the street his white face was melting away, revealing the true human that lived beneath the mask. The mask was eternally happy, a friendly clown. This was not who he really was.

            The clown walked along the busy street, his head was hung limp and low. His face looked happy, but looks can be deceiving. His feet were dragging, his overly large shoes splashing carelessly in every puddle. His walk was lazy and depressing.

Why had he covered his sadness and devoted his life to fake happiness? He was not a normal human. He had no moral value, no clear distinction between what was right or wrong. The contrast had been lost long ago, dropped into the abyss of his mind. He had no self control, and he was never affected by the consequences of his actions. His sad lonesome walk was different than his face, and it reflected clearly on who he really was.

People would stop and stare at him. He cared, but he wouldn’t show it. He let his emotion build up and eventually allowed it to burn off in a raging fire. His pace was constant, a boy stopped and said hello. He didn’t respond. He just kept on walking. Unlike his painted mask, he was not friendly.

The rain picked up, soaking the clown, his mask was almost fully removed. He kept walking, and his pace accelerated. He turned on a side street; at the end was an old apartment complex. The building had not been painted in several years; broken windows covered the outer wall. It was a frightening view.

His feet stomped loudly against each concrete step. He reached the third floor, his breath was heavy, not of exhaustion, but out of rage. He walked to the end of the hall. He jammed the key into the door angrily. He pushed the door open, a breeze filled with a sickening stench hit him in the face. This was normal.

The clown walked into his room. He grabbed a bag from the table and stared into the mirror.

In the mirror, he saw himself. A scared man, depressed and confused. Partially masked by paint, eternally happy.

He reached into the bag. He pulled out blue, red, white and orange paints. He reapplied his mask. His anger and sadness disappeared. His expression was convincing, yet clearly a disguise.

He turned and looked out at his room. The floor was littered with bodies. This was normal.           

© 2013 Bryan


Author's Note

Bryan
Tell me how to improve on this story. Should I have toned down the repetition?

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Featured Review

What I see, you used the word "He, too many times". He did this, he did that, he walked, he stomped. Show us don't tell us. Paint more of a picture instead of using stick figures.

Ex:

People would stop and stare at him, some would smile and others would sneer, inside he cared, but you couldn't tell it by looking at his face. By allowing his emotions to build up, they had no other choice but to burn off in a raging fire, which was still kept hidden, at least for now. At a constant pace his footsteps carried a rythym of despair. A young boy passing by offered an excited hello, the only response, the sound of his oversized shoes hitting the concrete sidewalk. Unlike his painted mask, he was not friendly.



Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

i loved how dark it was

Posted 6 Years Ago


This is really cool! i think maybe you do have a bit too much repitition for exemple the word :clown: is used like 5 times and you often use :he:
maybe you could try simply not saying that HE did it, in a way the reader knows who we are talking about after you say it the first few time...
But i still like it alot!!

Posted 6 Years Ago


What I see, you used the word "He, too many times". He did this, he did that, he walked, he stomped. Show us don't tell us. Paint more of a picture instead of using stick figures.

Ex:

People would stop and stare at him, some would smile and others would sneer, inside he cared, but you couldn't tell it by looking at his face. By allowing his emotions to build up, they had no other choice but to burn off in a raging fire, which was still kept hidden, at least for now. At a constant pace his footsteps carried a rythym of despair. A young boy passing by offered an excited hello, the only response, the sound of his oversized shoes hitting the concrete sidewalk. Unlike his painted mask, he was not friendly.



Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

the last sentence of the first paragraph, "this was not who he really was." I think you could axe it, and maybe a couple others like it. my thoughts being that the way he walks down the street, even just the way something simple like rain can "wash away" his "happiness" is enough to tell the reader that face is a mask. I do like it, and you're really young, so you've got nowhere to go but up. Keep thinking about how you can convey things to the reader like your clown's true nature, without actually saying this is not his nature. this is called minimalism and if you're interested read some Ray Carver, or Charles Bukowski, if you haven't already. Best of Luck!

Posted 6 Years Ago


Not that much repetition. A good story. You used several commas where you should have used periods or semi colons.

Posted 6 Years Ago


Bryan

6 Years Ago

Specific places?
Bryan

6 Years Ago

My teacher said there was too much repetition...
Marie

6 Years Ago

Your openening sentences should read like this: The paint dripped down his face, and the rain had w.. read more

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5 Reviews
Added on January 14, 2013
Last Updated on January 14, 2013
Tags: Creepy, Clown, Morbid

Author

Bryan
Bryan

About
I am 15, I love to write. Not much happens in my life... yet somehow I find something to write about. I have very little experience, and I don't have as much time as I would like! But i try to writ.. more..

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