The Guild of Fallen Clowns (15 page)

Mary was still turned away. The tremor
didn’t faze her.

“What was that?” Alan asked.

“I’m not sure—but I use to live about a mile
from a quarry and we always felt that when they were blasting.
Maybe there’s some blasting going on somewhere nearby. Can I turn
around now?”

Alan turned his attention back to his
Peepers figure. Suddenly, the sculpture he was so proud of paled
against the backdrop of Mary’s works positioned throughout the
studio.

“Ready yet?” she asked again. “What’s taking
so long? I can’t wait to see it.”

Alan rushed to lay the sculpture down so he
could cover it with the towel. “I’m sorry, Mary. It’s not ready. I
can’t do this.”

Mary turned around to see him rewrapping the
sculpture. “No Alan. No, no, no,” she said. She grabbed his hands,
looked at his face, and shouted, “Alan!” Her command got his
attention. He looked into her forceful eyes.

“Alan. Let go,” she insisted.

He relaxed his arms and she let go of his
hands. He watched as she delicately unfolded the towel to reveal
his sculpture. Alan turned away to avoid facing her during the
uncomfortable moment of truth.

They ignored the low rumbling of a second
tremor.

Mary gasped. “Oh, Alan.”

There it is. She’s looking at my amateurish
attempt at sculpting.

Uncomfortable with the situation, Alan
thought she was struggling to find something nice to say.

Again, she said, “Oh, Alan.” Alan couldn’t
take any more, so he decided it was time to end her discomfort. He
turned to grab the figure when two more words stopped him.

“I’m impressed,” she said with her eyes
fixed on his sculpture.

Alan lowered his hand.
She said she’s
impressed. That didn’t sound like faint words of encouragement
casually tossed out to make me feel good about myself,
he
thought.

“I’m
very
impressed,” she said. This
time, she added the word
very
to her statement before
turning to look at him with a gleaming smile.

“C’mon, Mary. You can’t be serious. Look at
your sculptures. Mine looks like a child made it.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,”
she replied. “But you’re wrong, Alan.” She turned back to look at
his sculpture. “I can’t believe this was your first—” Mary paused
and examined the figure closer. “Wait—is this—no way,” she
said.

“What’s wrong with it? Did I do something
wrong?” Alan asked nervously.

“Is this Peepers?” she blurted. The mere
mention of his name triggered another tremor. “Must be
aftershocks,” she said, waiting for Alan’s reply.

Stunned that she would recognize Peepers, he
rushed to cover the figure. Mary backed out of his way and said,
“It is, isn’t it? It’s Peepers from Clown World.”

Alan stepped away from the covered figure
and gave Mary a puzzled stare. At first he thought maybe she
recognized Peepers as a spirit in her house. But when she mentioned
Clown World, he couldn’t connect the dots fast enough.

“Do you play Clown World too?” she
asked.

Now he knew where she saw Peepers.
Apparently, Peepers didn’t only appear to him. He was well known in
Clown World.

“Yeah, well, I used to play it,” he
replied.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe I’ve found a
real person like me who’s into Clown World. What’s your character’s
name?” she asked.

“Well, my character was killed off.
Actually, Peepers killed me.”

“You’re not alone, Alan, he’s been killing
off all the powerful players. I guess that’s why I’m still alive.
I’m not very good at it yet.” Then she realized that Alan must have
been one of the game’s leaders.

“Who were you, Alan? You must have been one
of the top players for this Peepers character to take out. Like I
said, he’s been killing off the stronger players. He’s ruining the
game for everyone.”

“I was a character named Boogy—” he
said.

Before he could say another word, she cut
him off. “No way! You were Boogy?” She punched his arm. “No way—you
were a God in Clown World. You were the first one Peepers killed.
Oh my god! You’re Boogy!”

“Wow! I’ve never had that reaction before.
Usually people smirk and tell me to get a life,” he said.

“Well, I’m not most people. I guess you
already figured that out when I told you that I also play Clown
World. Wow! You’re Boogy!” she said with a huge smile. Then she
looked back at the covered Peepers and removed the towel. A door
slammed in the hallway.

“What was that? Is someone else here?” Alan
asked.

Mary stepped out of the room and looked
around while he remained in her studio. When she returned, she
smiled and said, “Nobody’s there. It must have been Lailah.”

Alan was spooked.
Why would her guardian
spirit slam a door? That didn’t sound like a soft, comforting
spirit. It sounded angry,
he contemplated.

Mary didn’t give it another thought and
looked back at his sculpture. “Seriously Alan—or Boogy—this is
unbelievable. It looks just like Peepers. I do have one question
though.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Why Peepers? I mean, this guy killed your
Boogy character. Why would you choose to sculpt him as your very
first sculpture?”

He wasn’t prepared to share his encounters
with Peepers in the Labyrinth. He knew she believed in ghosts, but
if he were to share the details of his connection with Peepers, she
would know about his fears. It felt really good to have Mary admire
him, or at least his Clown World character. He needed to come up
with an answer that wouldn’t point out his flaws, while at the same
time, not be a complete lie.

“Why Peepers?” he repeated.

“Yes, why would you honor that jerk in this
way? He killed Boogy.”

“Well, I guess I did it because he helped
me.”

“Helped you how? He destroyed Boogy.”

“True, but in a way he did me a favor. As
you know, I was the top player in Clown World. In order to get to
that level, I had to play the game all the time. And I mean,
all
the time
. I spent most of my waking hours in the game. When he
killed my character, he freed me from my addiction to the virtual
world. In a way, Peepers helped me live in the real world.”

As soon as he said it, he realized there was
truth in his words. He thought he was making up a story that Mary
would buy and drop the subject. But, after hearing what was to be a
fake explanation, he discovered truth in what Peepers was telling
him. Peepers really did help him. And, apparently, Peepers was
helping others like Alan within the game by killing off other
addicted players. This enforced his belief in Peepers, but now he
was more confused with Peepers’ need for his sculpting talent.
Peepers can help people without me. What does he want from
me?

Mary was still absorbing Alan’s words as she
continued admiring his work.

“You are a better person than me, Alan. If
Peepers killed off my character, I don’t think I’d be grateful. But
I only play for maybe twenty minutes a day. Sculpting is my
addiction.”

“So I take it you think I have some talent
for this?” Alan asked, eager to change the course of their
conversation.

“Are you kidding? This is the best effort
I've ever seen from a complete novice. I don’t know how I can teach
you anything. I could probably learn from you.”

Alan looked around the room again and rolled
his eyes. “You’re crazy. Just look at your work. I’m probably not
smart enough to comment on art, but I love your pieces.”

She blushed. “Well, I’m not saying I’m bad,
but it took me many years to get to the point where you are on your
first day. Besides, each of my pieces took many weeks to complete.
You've only had a few hours to work on yours. You can't expect it
to look like mine, but if you spend more time on the details, I'm
sure it would look perfect. You are a natural, Alan. And I’m your
first fan.”

Alan was still looking at her works. He
spotted the piece she covered when she walked in the room.

“What’s the deal with the fish you didn’t
want me to see?”

“Oh, that. Well, the fish is a consumable
product idea I’ve been working on. Unfortunately, the one-up
gallery pieces don’t sell like hotcakes. To supplement the art
side, I sell inexpensive consumer pieces like the fish here,” she
said, retrieving the fish from hiding. “I’m going to make three or
four of these guys. I’ll create molds and cast dozens, or hopefully
hundreds, and sell them at art shows to people with dry creek beds.
The idea behind them is that they will give the dried rock bed the
illusion of being full with water as the fish stick out of the
ground appearing to swim above the ground.”

“That’s a cool idea. I bet my brother would
buy some,” he said.

“Really? Like I said, things like this pay
the bills. It’s not my best work. I wouldn’t even call it art.”

"Where did you come up with the
concept?"

Mary smiled. "An old picture. It was taken
the last time I was here, before my grandparents moved. It was of
me fishing with my grandfather in the creek behind the house."

"What creek?" Alan said.

"There use to be a creek out there. It's
dried up now, but I thought I could pay tribute to my grandpa by
clearing out the weeds, filling it with stones and stocking it with
my sculpted fish." Her eyes welled up. "Gramps would love it." Mary
wiped her eyes in her sleeve and attempted to regain her composure.
"So your brother has a dried up creek bed?"

"Uh, well, it's more of a ditch across the
back of his yard, but I don't think it was ever a creek." Alan said
as he continued studying the fish sculpture. It appeared to be
complete. He wondered how she would go about turning it into a cast
piece.

“Is that piece ready for mold-making and
casting?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ll probably start on it
tomorrow.”

“Can you teach me how to do that with my
sculpture? I know it still needs work, but I' don't want to miss
out on this opportunity.” he said.

"Sure. Actually, that’s a great idea. Come
back tomorrow and I can show you what I do to make the mold. If you
want, you can copy me with your Peepers sculpture. The only thing
is, I don’t have much silicone left, only enough for the fish. If
you want to make yours, you’ll have to buy silicone. It’s
expensive, but if you plan to make more pieces, be sure to buy it
in bulk. You’ll save money in the long run.”

“Great. I’ll get it on my way home. I’m
looking forward to learning more tomorrow.”

“Learning more? So far I haven’t been able
to teach you anything.”

He gently wrapped his sculpture and carried
it toward the stairs. The whole way, he looked around for signs of
the shadow spirit. He started down the stairs when Mary called out,
“You didn’t drink your iced tea.”

As he turned to tell her he wasn’t thirsty,
something pulled the sculpture from his hands. The Peepers figure
tumbled down the steps. The soft clay bent, and the figure landed
at the foot of the stairs, all banged up.

“What was that?” Mary yelled. “Are you
okay?” She rushed to the top of the stairs and saw Alan at the
bottom reaching down to pick up his sculpture.

“Oh no, Alan! What happened? Did you drop
it?”

All he wanted to do was run for his car, but
he had to answer her question first. He knew it didn’t just slip
out of his hands. Something pulled it and flung it down the stairs.
However, the guilty spirit was one that Mary felt safe with. If he
told her it had a violent streak, it might frighten her. He
couldn’t tell her the truth so he agreed with her assessment.
“Yeah, I turned and it slipped out of my hands.”

She raced down the stairs. Alan placed the
damaged sculpture back in the towel.

“Oh no, Alan, it’s ruined. I’m so
sorry.”

“It’s not so bad. I’m sure I can fix it.” He
opened the door and stepped out to the porch. Mary followed.

“I feel so bad. It was perfect.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said with his back to
her as he left the porch and rushed toward his car.

“Well, if you can’t fix it by tomorrow,
you’re still welcome to come by and learn how to make molds. Or we
could reschedule.”

“No, I’ll get him fixed up. I’ll come back
again tomorrow.” By now he was opening his car door and reaching
the towel-wrapped figure across to the passenger seat.

“Okay. I’m so sorry, Alan,” she called out
from the porch as he drove away and waved out the open window.

Alan stopped at the art store for silicone
molding materials. He was still shaken from the stairway incident
at Krauss House, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from repairing
his Peepers sculpture and returning the next day for Mary’s lesson
on mold-making.

Thanks to Peepers, Alan no longer felt a
void in his life from the death of his virtual character in Clown
World. He was invigorated and glowed with confidence in his new
passion.

*****

Damages to his sculpture were more minor
than he had thought. He was able to make the repairs prior to
leaving for his shift at the carnival. As he approached the
entrance in full clown attire, he bounced from group to group,
entertaining children and families before passing through the
carnival gates. Boogy the clown became a magnet, drawing people
toward him as he playfully guided his mesmerized flock toward the
ticket booth.

Cracky watched as Boogy led at least thirty
guests to him. As soon as he arrived, Boogy slipped to the side of
the booth and leaned his gloved hand high against the wall,
motioning his followers to form a line. Cracky opened the side door
and said, “Nice work, Boogy, What got into you?”

“Nothing, Cracky. I guess I’m just feeling
pretty good today.”

“Well you look like the Pied Piper of
Clowns. Keep it up, pal.”