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The mist was cold in the city, it prowled around the streets like a hungry dog. People had began to circle around the Square. A large, preened man stood upon the steps, trying to shush the gathering crowd in front of him. He glanced from face to face, watching as the anxiety grew in their expressions. They called for him, and he waved his hands in dismissal. He wouldn't speak. Not yet.
A small girl was being dragged along by her hurried mother. Wind cut her ears and she winced; water filling her eyes and blurring her vision. 'Ury up, love, her mother said, yanking her faster.
Where are we going, mam?
Shush up 'nd come on. They cut through a side street, pushing past some broken fences. The Square was only a moments walk from here. The little girl had her head to the sky. It was dappled; grey and blue clouds promising rain.
The pair arrived to the Square, and the mother shoved her way to the front. The standing man coughed. All eyes on him. The little girl looked around. The people of her town were covered in rags. Thin sheets covered their heads, and everyone was pushed together. Smothering heat overwhelmed her. She hugged her mother's leg, pushing her temple against it. The mother's eyes were hard on the other man nearby the mayor. His face was horribly distorted. Orange hair sprouted like weeds off his skull, the face was ghastly pale compared to his brightly colored clothes; and black stars outlined his eyes. He had two red spots on his cheek-"the illness," they whispered; and his lips were the color of blood. He was not a man, surely.
A criminal, the mayor's voice rang out. His neck was pushed up by the collar, and his hair slicked back. He thought he was handsome. He was young, overweight and greedy. Money sweated off him. He had promised the town a new beginning, "money for all! Nobody will be poor again," but the town had been let down.
He is stealing from us. Food. He, a man not from here even! We do not condone thievery, as you are all aware. This man, this thing, is threatening the livelihood of us all! Our children may be in danger. Who knows what kind of sick things may be running through his head. Hushed whispers shot through the crowd like fire.
The children. Danger. He must be stopped.
He calls himself a clown! What foreign language! He is deranged. Lost. From a circat, travelling through the towns, he says! I, for one, have not heard of a circat before...
Circus.
The clown looks up. I am from a circus. I am an entertainer. I dress up, to perform, and look funny. The mayor looks furiously at the clown, his face is flushed and blown.
I beg your pardon...I...I have called you, and the towns folk, here to watch the execution of you! How dare you try and...and...off with his head! The mayor wobbles backwards, and a cloaked man comes forth up the steps, with an axe in his gloved hands. His back is turned towards the crowd. The clown is bowed down, his head positioned tightly on a heavy block of wood; his hands tied behind him.
The little girl watches with scared eyes. The clown had been here for little as three days. He had been quiet, kind-not a person you would call a criminal. He kept to himself and would help the other children if they needed so; perhaps to hold a rope or count for them. He would juggle things, too. Rocks, food. He was funny and made her and her friends laugh. So why was the mayor ordering him to die? She tugged her mother and tried to ask, but her mother shushed her. She shut her eyes and tried to block out the murderous silence. Thwaat.
The mayor stepped forward. A moments silence, he asked. Her mother shut her eyes and breathed out. Come on, she said, tugging her daughter away from the crowd that swept forward. They all wanted to see the clown. His head, rolling slowly towards them. The blood. She shied away, and followed her mother out through the gathering. Snow began to fall down, touching the little girl's nose and wetting her hair. A drizzle ran down her cheek, and she brushed it away. Another drizzle rolled down.
Finally, the little girl closed her eyes and wept. Wept for the tears of the lost clown.
.