Lombardus: The Trident Clown

Chapter 6 ☬

Clown with a voice
Juggled thirteen balls. So nice
Wheel appeared. I'm ice!

☬☬☬

THERE HE STOOD AGAIN. MOTIONLESS.

A sneer revealing two very sharp fangs played on his lips.

He hissed into my ears. "You're running a red light, turn back!"

For the first time hearing the Clown's voice, I agree that there was something special, spooky and supernatural about it.

But then, I don't have a clue what the Clown meant by, "running a red light," so I reckoned it must mean leaving the fairground if not…

If not what? My will is not going to waver by stupid voices and holographic visions of a clown.

I am a daredevil! I assured myself.

☬☬☬

"Hullo," the tall figure said, still juggling the thirteen coloured balls and never for once dropping any, even though he was almost knocked over by my lots.

He had the same hair colour as mine. Red-brown. His face was white as snow and his lips red as rose. The eyes were curious, intelligent and orb-like. He bore ultraviolet-type holes into us with them, x-raying us like some poor show horse with a broken fetlock.

He could probably recognize us as schoolkids except that we had stripped off our uniforms. We were now in our undershirts which made us a bit older and if not anything — casual.

Luke was wearing a stark white, ath-leisure shirt without the sign of any logo. Who knows how much his rich dad paid the company not to add any logo. Millions, perhaps? Oh but wait, there's one tiny black imprint of a golfer on his left sleeve. Apart from that, the shirt was as plain as a patch of mown grass.

Green and fading Rupert's shirt was. It was what he wore underneath three days ago and probably what he'll wear tomorrow and the next. Amongst us all, he remembered to take his bag as if he had uad it all planned. His bag was threadbare yet, it hasn't ripped apart.

Right in their middle I stood, wearing a deep-blue sleeveless shirt, as deep as blue can get without turning violet. The hems were white. A mascot of a hedgehog was running on the shirt for who knows how long. Since the day it was woven? Under the mascot was the popular basketball catchphrase, RUN & GUN, HODGES.

Dan's old shirt, obviously.

Why am I even wearing it? I asked myself when I noticed Luke studying me.

"Hullo back, Clown Man," Rupert greeted, his snag tooth out in the open again.

As if an invisible button was pressed, the Clown began to speak loudly, enough for anyone a mile away to hear, "Welcome to the Harlin's, people of Valsbury, I require three daring Questers to play an ancient game with me."

His voice was oily rich — one that can get him employed as an extravagant doorman in the renowned, five-stared Palm Resorts. His eloquence was simply top-notch.

Why was he a Clown then?

It was equally stevvon — strong and audible. As-a-matter-of-fact, he could make his voice be anything he wanted and right now he was using it to persuade the passer-bys to come. Miraculously, they were gathering.

The Clown was very tall. His head straggled out of the crowd like an overgrown flower. He'd make an awesome dunker if he got reincarnated as a basketball player. Somehow.

"Three daring Questers to play the Wheel of Miss Fortuna?" The Clown repeated in the same persuasive tone.

The hypnotized crowd milled around him, laughing, admiring his eloquence, and most importantly, his malapropism.

Miss Fortuna? Haha.

One proud man in a battered crimson parka from the back was so triggered by the Clown's misuse of words that he yelled, "Is Miss Fortuna your misfortunate boss?"

A wave of murmured laughter welcomed his snarkcastic remark. The man seemed to be enjoying the attention. He was blushing, bowing and scraping as though he'd performed a classic Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was unable to.

The Clown gave a weak chuckle, before saying in a new daring tone, "Wanna go first eh, mister?"

The proud man in the long crimson jacket sashayed forward, pushing his way past the throng and puffing his chest out, thinking himself as… master of all.

It was that moment the Clown deemed it fit to stop juggling, I noticed. It threw me off, to be frank, how the clown was able to juggle thirteen balls and schmooze the crowd with such persuasive power at the same time.

"Now we got ourselves the first Quester!" The Clown boomed, throwing his arms wide like a soaring harpy.

The throng showed their appreciation by applauding to the echo. Then something which I eventually concluded was a trick of the light happened.

A decrepit-looking wooden wheel materialized in the place of the balls, which somehow were the same objects that turned into the wheel. And it was floating!

It struck me that the people didn't notice this strange occurrence. A levitating wheel simply appeared in the Clown's hand and so the world goes on.

Or maybe I was the dull fish who refused to catch everything in an eye blink. I blinked my eyes at this wonderment, bewildered. Was I daydreaming? I pinched myself. I glanced at my sides, where Rupert and Luke were standing. I held the large arm of Rupert to reassure myself.

"What? I am so thrilled to watch this too," Rupert, who probably thought I was grabbing him in a fit of infectious excitement, beamed.

I noticed Rupert had a lisp. Where he pronounced, so, it sounded, thsow. This caused me to giggle. A small giggle that boosted my self-assurance and made me sign in for something I'll regret later, "I'm in!"

For a split-second, the murmuring crowd hushed up and all eyes were on me.

Then, the Clown spread his arms cheerfully, "One more Quester to go," and the eyes turned back to their previous perspective.

☬☬☬

Don't Forget to VOTE frens