*They are characters from my “The clown and the little girl” stories. The events mentioned in this story are from “It’s all a bit tragic isn’t it?” and “How curious..” Gacha Club character designs are on my wall. Enjoy!
Loraine tossed and turned in her bed, not wanting to sleep.
She wanted to talk to the ghosts…play with Mallory..
With warning, the clowns flashed in her mind. The real life clowns, not Alexander, the ghost clown who didn’t always stay, even when she wished that he would stay forever.
He was like a father to her…those other people..they were trying to scare her..
…But no. That was years ago.Many years ago, when she was five. She was eight now. Time to be a big girl. Time to grow up..
…She couldn’t help it. They really did scare her. They made her..
…Great. She was crying. Again.
Loraine hid her face in her pillow, to muffle her cries. The insults from the other children rattled in her ears. The words they said whenever the tears rolled down. The cruel chant that went something like:
Nobody likes a crybaby! Stop crying, crybaby! Stop crying..stop crying..stop-
Her heaving sobs stopped. Someone was stroking her hair. She knew that voice.
It was Alexander. This must have been one of the times he was solid. She remembered him telling her that he was solid once, but never again. This must be one of those times.
Oh no, it’s him. He’s gonna be so mad at me. He will think that I’m a crybaby-
“Are you alright?”
She turned to look at him.
He was sitting on the bed. She could tell by his outline in the dark.
Another thing. She didn’t like the dark, but her parents insisted that she try and sleep without a nightlight this time. She was eight, she “needed” to know what it was like to be in the dark.
“No..the kids at my school..they..they call me..”
She couldn’t continue. The word was too horrible to be said out loud.
“What? What do they call you?” He asked.
“They call me..crybaby! But they’re right! I am a crybaby! I’m-“
“I’m scared of everything! The dark, clowns-“
“I’m a clown, aren’t I? I’m not going to-“
“I know! But the clowns-“
“Loraine, lower your voice-“
She sat up now. She couldn’t stop. It all just came tumbling out of her.
“-They used to stare at me! Real people in clown costumes, everywhere-“
“And now these kids are calling me crybaby! All of them! The teachers..they don’t care! My parents..don’t-“
“Loraine, I know.” He said.
She sank into her bed, done crying. Loraine had nothing else to say. Her tears were dry on her freckled face, her dark hair matted with sweat, surrounding her pale cheeks.
“I was made fun of too. Kids used to be mean to me. My parents..they weren’t very good people. These teens...when I was your age, they tricked me.”
“Told me to get on a stage. To sing. I loved singing. Being up there. I was so caught up in my singing that I didn’t notice the paint buckets hanging over my head.”
“They spilled all over me. The buckets. The teens laughed at me. The other people-“
“There were other people?”
“Yes, there were. They laughed at me, too. Everyone except Lydia and Michael. They helped me.”
“Did you get the paint off?”
“I did, but it was hard. Some of it left patches of raw skin. Underneath my makeup, they’re there. The raw patches of skin. They’re there.”
“Did you get revenge?” Loraine asked quietly. If it were her, she would have given them all the red hot, boiling punch of revenge.
“I did..on one person. It was after my death, actually.”
“Just someone who was mean to me. That’s all.”
“Did you feel good? Should I get revenge?”
“Then that’s what I should do! Revenge!”
“I did for a moment, Loraine. But I felt bad about it later. I still do now. She may have been mean to me-“
“The person was a girl?”
“But she was only human. She had her problems. I had mine. Listen, Loraine. The movies talk about people like us getting their revenge. People who get bullied. People who are different. What they don’t understand is that doing such a thing doesn’t help anyone. It only makes people like us feel sadder and even more angry. It hurts other people who have their own problems, too.”
“Those mean kids don’t have problems!”
“Yes, they do. That’s why they’re bad. That doesn’t mean we should be bad, too.”
“Then what do I do?”
“You could try and tell the other adults at school about the problem. They can help.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll make them.”
“I have my ways.”
“What if the kids call me a snitch-“
“Do you know why the word snitch exists? Because other people don’t like it when we do the right thing. No one can be a snitch. Not really. We’re just telling the truth.”
“Just be yourself. Keep your chin up. You have me and I will make sure that nothing bad will happen to you.”
She was so glad that he cared about her. Loraine wasn’t alone. She had him and the other ghosts.
*And now, dear reader, I must ask, does Alexander seem like a hero, villain, neither, or both to you? What if YOU were haunted by Alexander? Would you want to befriend him or avoid him?*