Young Writers Society

*The time of Halloween is coming and it is at that this time that I shed my human skin and reveal my true self. I have not been completely honest with the good people of the young writers society. The truth is that I am not a human, but a magical clown who lives deep in a forgotten circus. This story is my confession of who I really am. Gacha Club character designs are on my wall.

Vampricone6783 was once a young fourteen year old girl named Anne Louise. She visited this old, abandoned circus next to her house and would often pretend she was performing in front of a whole crowd.

One night, when she went out there, a boy about her age named Lincoln Alex had approached her and do you want to know what he did?

He came out from the shadows to join her. Lincoln wasn’t her friend, but he knew her well enough.

Then, he asked Anne if she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel.

She looked at him, confused, because the Ferris wheel wasn’t working, so why would she go on it?

But he said that he could control it and she could sit in it.

So, she agreed to go on the Ferris wheel, because she was glad that someone was with her and she wanted to make that person smile.

……………………………………………………………

“Ready?” Lincoln asked.

Anne nodded. She was already sitting in one of the Ferris wheel carts. She wished there were seatbelts to protect herself, but this would have to make do.

“Alright, here I go!” Lincoln cried out.

The Ferris wheel began to move up. Bright, tinkling circus music began playing and a smile was on her face. This was beautiful, riding the Ferris wheel at an abandoned circus! There was something magical about it…

But Lincoln smiled evilly and watched as Anne got closer and closer to the top. When she finally reached the top, her wheel was hanging just above the edge…

Since there were no seatbelts and all he needed to do was activate a button to open the door, she could just fall to her death…

Wait-why would he want to kill her?!

Because...because he saw her every day at school, talking about stories and circuses, it annoyed him! That was the reason! She was certain of it. Why else would he want her dead?

So,he pushed the button and…

“AHHHH!” Anne screamed.

She fell to her death…

……………………………………………………………….

Anne woke up feeling quite strange, like she was no longer human…

She put a hand in front of her face. It was in white gloves…

Huh?! Where did the gloves come from?!

She ran as fast as she could to her house. Maybe she could look in the bathroom mirror, see if anything was wrong.

……………………………………………………………..

When Anne finally went home, she ran upstairs to the bathroom, to check her face and shouted out:

“WHAT IN THE BLAZES HAPPENED TO ME?!”

Then, she clasped gloved hands over her mouth, afraid that her family heard her.

Anne had…she had clown…clown makeup on her face! Her hair was a curly blue wig, her eyes were hot pink, her eyeshadow was purple, her lips were red, she had a red clown nose, she was wearing a blue puffy shirt, a pink skirt and green shoes with white bows. She also had white gloves.

“Um…What in the actual heck?” She said in an almost-whisper.

She should probably take the makeup off.

She rinsed her hands in water and tried scrubbing the makeup off her face.

“It’s…it’s not coming off..” She said nervously.

She tried scrubbing it off again, but it was glued to her face.

“W-why isn’t it coming off?!” She asked frantically.

She tried taking the gloves off.

Same thing.

If she couldn’t take her costume off, which should be a regular thing to do, did that mean she couldn’t bleed as well?

She had to test it out.

She grabbed a razor and decided to purposely cut her hand with it.

Nothing. She didn’t even feel it.

“Am I even alive?” She asked herself.

She put a hand to where her heart could be.

Nothing. She couldn’t feel anything.

She held her breath for twenty minutes and let it out.

She didn’t need to, though. She could have held it longer.

“No…what…what happened to me?”

Anne thought back to when she fell off the Ferris wheel…wasn’t she supposed to be dead?

But she wasn’t entirely dead. She was standing in front of the mirror, right now.

Why was she a clown?

Maybe because she was in a circus, her spirit decided to turn into a clown. It wouldn’t be so out of this world for it to happen.

What…what would her family think?

Just then, she heard the bathroom door creak open.

“Who are you?”

Anne turned to look at the person speaking.

It was her Mom holding the door, staring at her like she was an intruder.

Of course she wouldn’t recognize her, she was a clown!

Maybe if she heard her voice she’d know it was Anne.

“Mom, this is going to sound crazy, but it’s me, Anne.”

Her Mom said nothing. Oh no, did her voice sound different?

Finally, she said:

“Anne?”

“Yes, yes it’s me!”

“I’d know the sound of your voice! What happened to you? Why are you wearing a Halloween costume? It’s too early for Halloween, it’s only June.”

“Mom,this is going to sound crazy, but here’s what happened...”

And she began telling her Mom about her visits to the circus and about Lincoln, who had killed her.

Her Mom tried to hug her, but only got air.

“I…I can’t hug you. You’re a ghost.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Her little seven year old brother, Aiden and her Dad had just walked in.

“What’s with all the noise…honey,what are you looking at?”

So her Dad couldn’t see her. Interesting.

“Who is that clown?” Aiden asked.

Aiden could see her?!

Her Mom and Aiden could see ghosts…

“I’ll tell you everything later.” Her Mom said to her Dad and little brother.

“Anne, get some sleep.” She said to her.

So, Anne went to her room to “get some sleep” as her dear ol’ mother said..

………………………………………………………………

But she found that she couldn’t sleep. She kept hearing voices…people, calling for her help.

Crying, screaming for help.

These people…they had names…they had stories to tell…and…yet, their stories were being forgotten, left to rot..

She took to her computer and began typing a story.She called it:

“THE ADVENTURES OF POPPY MCLAIN.”

She typed, all night. Different stories, every night.

The headache was beginning to fade.

As it faded, she realized that she couldn’t stay in the house.

The circus…that abandoned circus..it was the perfect place to write stories…she could visit her home, to see her family, of course.

But she had to write, she had to save these other forgotten souls that were crying for her help.

And she couldn’t do it at her house.

She had to leave, now. There was no time for goodbyes. It would take up too much time.

She got a pen and paper, held her tears and wrote a letter:

To my dearest mother-

By the time you read this our conversation would have been last night. I was hearing voices, other souls. They were giving me a headache. I was writing a story about some of them and a little bit of the headache disappeared.

But I can’t write them here. This place isn’t the right environment for writing stories.

I must go to the circus I told you about, Mom. Tell Dad and Aiden about it. They deserve to know.

I will visit from time to time, but there are other souls who need my help.

FYI, not all of the souls are dead people. Some are humans who have met the supernatural or just the supernatural itself.

Either way, they need my help.

I don’t have much time, but I want to say that I love you guys. With all of my heart. You have no idea.

Mom, I owe everything to you. You didn’t run from me. You stayed and spoke with me. I know that you will always be my biggest fan, I know that you will always love me. No matter what shape or form I’m in, I’ll always be your daughter.

Please don’t cry. I’ll still visit. I’m just helping others.

I have also decided to call myself:”Vampricone6783.” It’s nice and fitting, because I really like vampires and it’s much cooler than the name “Anne Louise.” (How silly is that? A clown who likes vampires?) Maybe I’ll post my stories on the young writer’s society. It’s a much bigger site and people are known to read stories there. It’s very accepting, too. I’m sure they don’t just have mere humans on the sit. I’ll save more souls, living, dead or undead.

Think of how much good I’m doing in the world.

I’ve been given a second chance of life as a magical clown who can tell stories ,so I’m going to use that to my advantage, to help others.

It’s for the best.

-With much, much, much love, Anne. (Or Vampricone6783. Depends). :)

And so, that was the start of Vampircone6783, the compassionate clown who tells the stories of others and is always waiting to make new friends. So many souls are grateful for her work and they have all thanked her, personally.

So, want to meet her? Say hi to her, maybe?

She’s waiting for you!

*”The adventures of Poppy McLain” is an actual series I’m writing. You can check the stories out on my profile!