Young Writers Society

*This is from my story “Circus of horrors”. Gacha Club character designs are on my wall. Enjoy!*

In 1982, there was a sixteen year old boy named Andrew Davids. He was a good boy who listened to his teachers and got his work done.

But he wished that he had friends. Seeing everybody at school with their own group of friends reminded him of just how lonely Andrew was, of just how much of a “social misfit” he was, as his parents always said.

Well, a boy named Charles Larson used to speak, until the death of his little sister, Claire. After her death, people bombarded him with questions and prayers, never leaving him alone, until Charles decided to never speak unless needed to.

But Andrew wanted to talk to him. Andrew wanted to know him. If he too was quiet, maybe they could both be friends.

Maybe more…

………………………………………………………………

One day, when Andrew was walking home from school, he noticed that Charles wasn’t riding his bike home as usual.

Okay, maybe he was a bit of a stalker, but no one knew.

So, when school ended, he followed Charles to a brightly colored circus-

“Excuse me, why are you here?” Charles snapped, turning around to face Andrew.

Andrew felt sweat beading down his face, he felt as though as he was melting into himself, disappearing…why did he follow Charles again? He…should…just…go…home…

“Well?” Charles asked, impatient.

It was too late. Andrew couldn’t leave, he had been seen.

Andrew had to speak.

“Um…because..you weren’t riding..y-y-your b-b-bike h-h-home and I-“

“Never mind, you’re coming with me.”

What? Why?

“What-“ Andrew was saying, but before he could finish his sentence, Charles pulled Andrew by the arm to the entrance of the circus.

There was no turning back. Andrew could have been home, his parents wouldn’t be furious with him for being late, and he would have never heard Charles’ surprisingly soft voice, tinged with anger.

Andrew just had to follow him to a circus.

………………………………………………………………

“Where are you taking me?” Andrew asked.

“To my circus tent, duh.” Charles said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Wait, you work here? You have your own circus tent?”

He didn’t even think teens were old enough to work at circuses.

“Yes, I do. Anyone with talent can work at a circus.”

“And why did you choose to work here, out of all places?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I think it is-“

“Nothing I do is your business, kapeesh?”

“I-“

“No.”

If nothing Charles did was his business, then why wouldn’t he let Andrew go home?

………………………………………………………………

They had both made it to the circus tent. On one side of the flap was a single poster tacked on, which Charles pulled down and handed to Andrew.

“So you’re a-“

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a clown. Zippy the clown.”

“Hold up, why’d you bring me here?”

“You were following me in the first place. I think if you’re gonna stalk someone, you shouldn’t get caught. You’re not a very good stalker,you know, because I spotted you multiple times and until now, you’ve never stayed long enough to follow me after school. You only did like a few blocks. Had you been good, you would have known that I ride my bike here all the time, every day. I just chose not to take a bike-“

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m not a good stalker.” Andrew said. Really, he didn’t want to get into an argument.

“Wait, what did I just say?” Andrew asked, just then realizing the ridiculousness of his sentence. Then again, nothing made sense after Charles just dragged him to the circus.

“Shut up. You’re going to sit on the bleachers and watch me perform.”

What? Charles brought him over for some circus show? Out of all the things Andrew imagined him doing in life, being a circus clown was not one of them.

“Excuse me-“

“No buts. This was your own doing. After that, I want you to audition to be apart of this circus-“

Join the circus? Why? What good was there in joining the circus?

“But I can’t perform-“

“Maybe this will teach you not to follow people.”

“I-“

“Go hide, they’re coming.”

“But-“

Charles shoved Andrewto a far corner of the tent, into complete darkness.

“Who is they? What are you talking about?”

“The audience, of course!”

“People still go to the circus?”

“Yes, they do! Not as much as they did in the 1950s, but they still do. Now, if you’ll escape me, I have to magically transform into a clown for the amusement of the young and old. Good day, peasant!”

Andrew chuckled a little despite himself. Charles was funny when he wanted to be. Andrew could see him as a clown.

………………………………………………………………

Andrew didn’t have to audition, he didn’t have to listen to Charles.

But he needed to do something else with his life. He needed to do something different.

It had nothing to do with Charles persisting that he’d do it.

So, Andrew had gone to the circus the next day with Charles, to tell him the good news.

“Um…so like…I auditioned…and-“

“And?”

“I-I-I’m gonna be a clown-“

“I don’t know how you got that because you’re nervous as heck and you’ve gotta be loud, but then again, this circus is as cheap as smushed fries on a sidewalk, so yeah.”

“Hey-“

Why couldn’t Charles believe in him? Did he really think Andrew was that insignificant?

“I’m just saying.”

“That’s not fair-“

“It is fair.”

Something dawned on Andrew in that moment.

Charles had a certain bitterness to him, a certain darkness. But there was something more to it. Something he didn’t want Andrew to know about. Something that made him snap. Andrew didn’t know he knew, it just crawled in his heart, like a million starving spiders.

……………………………………………………………….

Weeks had passed since then. Apparently, he wasn’t so bad at performing.

At least, that’s what Charles said to him after his shows. The crowd certainly seemed to love and care for him, Cookie the clown.

But the crowd loved everything, didn’t they?

When Andrew was out there, he felt free. He could slip on the costume and become someone invincible and bright, a makeup-wearing warrior in a room of gray, dying souls.

Charles was nicer (nicer, not incredibly sweet and generous) to him than when he first saw Andrew.

But that didn’t mean much when Charles tensed his back and scanned the area when the audience when the audience weren’t around, as if he were searching for a demon lurking in the corners.

It frightened and intrigued Andrew.

His parents didn’t suspect anything. They didn’t question why he came home late and what he was doing out.

Maybe they thought he was doing something for school..whatever, it wasn’t like they’d go to the circus anyway.

No one there knew who he really was except Charles.

……………………………………………………………….

It was February Twenty-Fifth, the audience was watching him with intent eyes. Andrew was doing a juggling act, hands moving faster than imaginable.

The world around him started to blur. Froth foamed at the corners of his eyes, his arms felt nonexistent.

“A floating hatchet?” Someone in the audience asked. An adult, perhaps. Their voice sounded so far away, Andrew couldn’t tell.

His neck was popping! No, not really. Someone was pulling on his wig and making him face the ceiling. The audience collectively gasped, but didn’t do a thing.

Andrew didn’t see anyone holding him, though. Just a floating hatchet.

And then he knew.

This was the thing haunting Charles, the thing that made him so testy. The invisible evil holding the hatchet was Charles’ biggest fear and with good reason. It was the thing that killed Claire and it would be the thing that would end Andrew.

It was a demon named Miriam. The name of any woman crossing the street, except this Miriam was so much more.

Andrew didn’t have time to scream, for the blade of the hatchet already sliced through his fragile flesh and firm bones.

It broke his heart to hear the crowd scream, especially the children.

……………………………………………………………….

He woke up in the back of the circus tent, the same place where Charles hid him many days ago.

Except Andrew was the only one there.

Or so he thought.

Andrew turned around. It was Charles, Charles who died a few days ago, at a little girl’s birthday party. The girl’s name was Abigail. They were quite close, from what Charles told him.

Were they ghosts now?

“It appears the eye color change, claw, and height growth has happened with you, too." Charles said.

That was so random of him, why did he say that?

“What-“

“Maybe that happens with ghosts.”

It was to fill the void, that was why Charles spoke up.

“I know about Miriam.” Andrew said.

“You do?”

“Yes, right before my death.”

Charles breathed a sigh of relief, a weight being lifted out of his shoulders. Andrew wished that he could feel the same.

“Thank god you know. It’s just been eating away at me, this knowledge. This fear. I was afraid she’d come again. I wanted to tell you about Miriam, but…”

“You didn’t think I’d believe you?”

“Why would you? “A demon woman killed my sister”. I mean, who would believe that? Anyone would think that I was a straight up psycho and with good reason.” Charles said, soft voice even softer, almost a sad whisper.

“Well, I believe you.” Andrew said.

He felt Miriam’s presence, he felt her evil. She was there.

“And while we’re on the subject of believing in things, would you believe that I like you? Romantically?”

There. Andrew said it. They were both dead, what more was there to lose?

“You…you like me? Romantically? Me?”

“Yes.”

Charles laughed. It sounded normal at first, then it became maniacal, high-pitched, like a true evil clown cackle. It made Andrew’s skin crawl a little. Not too much, just a little bit.

Finally, he stopped. There was only a small smile on his face.

“As crazy as it sounds, I like you too. Romantically. You’re a bit lost, but you’re sweet. You never bothered me after Claire’s death and your presence was always…nice.”

“Really?”

“Are you deaf? I just said that.” Charles said, his smile seeming to get bigger, his eyes seeming a little brighter.

“We’ll talk more, after we exact revenge on Miriam. I used to think she was unstoppable, but after seeing you come out of your shell, I think that we have a chance. Come on! Abby is waiting for us outside of the tent, there isn’t a minute to waste!” Charles said brightly.

While it seemed bleak that their bodies were to be buried six feet under the maggot-infested dirt, they had each other. They understood each other. There were more secrets to discuss, but that would be for later.

The three of them had a demon to exorcise from the Earth.