It was the most excruciating spine chilling scream of agony that would make your worst nightmare’s worst nightmare seem like a Bambie Christmas special. Words couldn’t possibly describe the evils that were carried out in the basement of 23 Bleaker Street. Smiley the clown couldn’t remember a defining moment when his heart had turned to ice. It had been a gradual process. The darkness had taken over and he had grown to take prid, enjoyment, and pleasure out of his evil deeds. Good old mister smiley is what they used to call him. He had been told he was the sweetest, kindest and most caring clown that that had ever existed. And well, he was. Things used to be different. He used to love the kids more than anything. But that was then and this was now. He was never going back and nothing was going to change that.
Not far from the Smiley residence Rachel Stevens was in such a panic she couldn’t formulate complete sentences. “But, how, why, when did he, are there leads? How could this happen?” Detective Bradley didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort her and tell her it would be ok but he didn’t believe it himself and he didn’t have much to work with. “Yes, we will call you the second we have any new information Mrs. Harris, I promise. We are doing everything we can to locate your son.” She was hysterical. Thomas was days away from his eighth birthday. He had never been more excited. His parents had promised him a brand new bright red BMX bike. Thomas wanted to be a professional BMX rider one day and although his parents knew he was too young to do tricks, they didn’t wasn’t to spoil his hopes and dreams because there was nothing that Thomas had wanted more in his world. He had had been counting down the minutes until he could ride it around the block and show it off to all the big kids who already had BMX bikes and could do tricks, but that brand new bright red BMX bike was the last thing on Bobby’s mind…
Another gut-wrenching scream filled the soundproofed basement of 23 Bleaker Street. Mr. Smiley wiped the blood off the surgical spoon and proceeded to place the second of two freshly removed eyeballs into their designated jar. He was hungry, but good things come to those who wait is what his parents had told him as a child, and this piece of advice had always lingered in the back of his brain.
Smiley often enjoyed instilling false hope in his victims’ families. He loved to create the delusion that there was light at the end of the tunnel and they might one day be reunited with their loved ones but not once had he ever intended on returning his specimens, even after the ransoms were paid off. He had made a healthy living off the ransom money he collected from the aching hearts of loving parents. Smiley’s heart was stained with the darkest and coldest blackness imaginable and it would never be lightened. He was destined to drown in languish until the end. Reality was suffering and life was pain. Rage had turned the rivers of his heart red with blood. Unendurable torment and an eternal regret and guilt had mutated his soul into the essence of evil and he embraced this transformation with open arms. He was viciously and ruthlessly blazing down the highway to Hell and he intended on taking as many men women and children along for the ride as he possibly could.
But Smiley hadn’t always been hell-bound. He was only human, and therefore nowhere near perfect, but, for the overwhelming majority of his life, he had been the type of person that some might describe as “saint-like”. Like most, he had struggled to overcome hardships in his life and for a long time he did not let adversity deter him from working towards the things he wanted in life. Mr. Smiley had a heart of gold and although life hadn’t really dealt him the cards that he had hoped for, he never let this get the best of him. Well, in the “before times” that is…
The “before times” for Mr. Smiley was a time when there had been some sense of order and clarity to his life. These were the days when the life he led had resembled some level of normalcy. Things hadn’t ever been “perfect” or even ideal, but for the time being, the “before times” ?were, was? as good as it was going to get, and he was ok with that. Mr. Smiley never let adversity or misfortune deter dissuade him from attaining what his heart so desired. Some of Mr. Smiley’s best days were spent at a place known as Happyville Clown School. Happyville was a place that would transform a lifetime of hard work and determination into happiness and success. It was a place where dreams came true. To him, it was the break of a lifetime and he was on top of the world while at Happyville. Life was good.
The light at the end of Mr. Smiley’s tunnel had never shone brighter and nothing was going to hold him back… or so he thought. One of his most prized and sacred memories had been his graduation ceremony from Happyville. He had never worked harder for anything in his life. He could remember it as if it were yesterday…
“And the award for best clown of the year goes to none other than…. MR. Smiley!” He couldn’t believe his ears. Butterflies filled his stomach and he tried desperately to hold back the tears of utter joy but not contain himself. It was a beautiful
Ever since his third birthday party he knew that he was going to be a clown. Nothing had ever made him happier in his entire life than when he was handed his first balloon animal. His eyes had lit up like a street lamp and his heart melted. Mr. Smiley approached the stage, his lower lip was quivering. He was determined to be the best clown the kids had ever seen. And he was. Over the next few years he had touched more children’s hearts than anyone who had ever graduated Happyville Clown School. He had a fiery passion for life and things were going good. Then things changed… He would never be good old Mr. Smiley again. He had turned into a monster. Fueled by evil, he fed off a vindictive and malicious intent. An endless string of tragedy, betrayal, and spiteful regret had ignited the flame that scorched a hole of eternal emptiness in his soul that would never be filled.
It had all started with the death of his parents. Smiley had been preparing for the most grand performance of his life. His parents never approved of his lifestyle as a clown but he wanted to prove to them that he was worth a damn and for the first time that they had agreed to attend one of their son’s performances. He wanted it to be special. He wanted to them to be proud of him. They died in a car crash that afternoon and it was entirely his fault. That afternoon about an hour before his performance he had debated calling them to make sure they had the right directions. At first he decided against it but on second thought what did he have to lose. He proceeded to dial his mother’s telephone number and after about four or five rings the line cut off. He tried again but there was no answer. He didn’t think much of it and hung up about half way through his mother’s voicemail message. That was the last time he would ever hear her voice. He had ended his parent’s existence with a single phone call and he would have to live with this for the rest of his life. The police report stated that his parents Camry had swerved into the left lane of I-78 at the peak of rush hour. The Camry violently and uncontrollably spiraled into the back of a lumber transport truck and sent it screeching across the highway. The Lumber had had gone tumbling across I-78 and sent the highway into a frenzy of cataclysmic horror. It had been referred to as the worst series of collisions that had been recorded in over a decade. Over 30 innocent people were killed and more than a dozen were fatally wounded. One of the deceased was a child by the name of Billy Turner. He was Mr. Smiley’s biggest fan. He had attended just about every public performance Mr. Smiley had hosted in the last three years. Billy had a special place in Smileys’ heart. Billy looked up to Mr. Smiley because Billy’s father had walked out on him and he didn’t have a positive male role model in his life. Smiley always encouraged Billy to follow his dreams because he believed that anything was possible and that life had no limits. Billy dreamed of being a clown just like Smiley one day and this made Smiley feel like he had a purpose in life. He loved Billy. But now Billy would never be a clown. When the paramedics perilously sawed through the mangled wreckage in a desperate attempt to save Smiley’s parents they had been too late. His mother was still clutching her cell phone in her hand with such a firm grip that they had to pry it from her fingers.
Everything went to hell after that. He was evicted from his condo that he had paid for with his sweat and blood. He had worked endless days and nights and prepared for his shows with countless hours of preparation. Slowly but surely he had managed to save up enough to buy a small place that wasn’t much it was enough to get by. He begged his landlord on his hands and knees to give him just two weeks to come up with the money that he owed for the rent. He had friends that were there for him is what he told his landlord. They would lend him the money he needed to pay the backed rent until he could get back on his feet. Two days is what the landlord gave him to come up with money. His friends had his back, or so he thought. They had been the best of friends at Happyville. They practiced clown routines together every day of the week. They told him they would always be there for him through thick and thin and they had his back no matter what but when Smiley so desperately needed his friends more than ever they had abandoned him. “Sorry Smiley, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, maybe another time” is what they told him. The feeling of betrayal sent him into an almost catatonic state of depression and rage. Smiley was evicted. Things only got worse from that point on. He was forced into a life of panhandling dirty subway cars that reeked of urine for the best clown tricks he had up his sleeve. The public had laughed him out of just about every subway car he performed for. His change cup had remained as empty and as heart and soul. He was a failure. Smiley was forced to sleep in dark alleys, dumpster diving to keep from starving. He had nothing left. No family, no friends, no job, no passion, no money and, no will to live. Every day was more unbearable than the previous. Smiley spent most of his days on the corner of Harvard avenue endlessly shaking the same dirty McDonald’s cup day after day, hour after hour hoping and praying that someone would have the compassion to help out a man who had only had the best of intentions and wanted nothing more than to give back to this cruel world that so heartlessly and ruthlessly turned on him, but day after day, week after week, the same four pennies jingled an endless melody of hopelessness. Even the kids who had looked up to him and loved him had turned on him. He had nothing. It was at this point that the transformation began. He hated everything and everyone including himself. The world had fucked him with a dick of epic proportions and now he was going to return the favor…
Smiley transported the blood filled jar of tongues, eyes, and teeth to the storage room located on the first floor of the abandoned house he had turned into his humble abode. The eyes were a delicacy to him. He popped a freshly removed eye into his mouth and bit down. The juices dribbled out of the side of his mouth and the slimy yet delicious jelly like substance slid down his throat smooth as butter. He licked his fingers then opened the reinforced metal door that led to the storage room. The scent of death and rotting human carcass filled his nostrils and he took savored the scent. The room was dark. He passed maggot infested human limbs, mostly of children on his left and organs that were just as decomposed on his right. He often liked to age his meals before indulging but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Before placing the jar towards the back of the room on a shelf with other decaying eyes and tongues he sucked down the second of two delectibles. It was just as delicious as the first.
He craved more but needed to pace himself, he needed to conserve his edibles. As he closed the storage room door he couldn’t help but think of thinking of how thankful that he was for his constant supply of specimens for quite some time now. He rarely premeditated his abductions. They somehow seemed to always fall into his lap and he was grateful.
He feasted on the eye and tounges but he liked to pull the teeth for shits and giggles.
Detective Bradley sat at his desk in in a state of agitated confusion. People had been disappearing almost on a regular basis for over a year now. He impatiently tapped his pen on his desk and couldn’t help but thinking of how he was failing the people who trusted in him and his associates to protect and serve them. He had not so much as one single lead. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no evidence what so ever. It just didn’t make sense. Whoever was doing this knew what they were doing and didn’t intend on getting caught any time soon. He let out an exasperated sigh and decided to call it a night. He made his way towards the office window to shut the blinds as a crimson red sky streaked with orange highlights was rapidly darkening. This sent a wave of shivers down his spine. Darkness was approaching. He grabbed his keys off the desk and made his way towards the door. As he approached his car he lit a cigarette. He was exhausted. Tomorrow was a new day and all he could do at this point was hope for the best but hope wasn’t going to rescue innocent children from the hands of a coldblooded child kidnapper. He was scared. Bradley took another drag of his cigarette then started the ’97 Ford Taurus. He didn’t know what the future held for the small town he had grown to love so much but things weren’t looking good. Detective Bradley couldn’t help but think of how Mrs. Stevens wouldn’t be tucking her son into bed tonight and a tear started to run down his cheek. He drove off into the darkness and somewhere in the distance a coyote howled.
It had been seven years to the day since Mrs. Stevenson had gazed into her sons big blue loving eyes. Tears began to stream down her face as she picked up Bobby’s fifth grade school photograph. Not a day had passed since his disappearance where she hadn’t thought of him every second of every day. His stuffed animals and GI Joes still were gathering dust in the same position he had left them in seven long and painful years ago. To this day she couldn’t bring herself to set foot in his room to this day. One day she would reunite her son. How she longed to ?hold her first born son – hug? in her arms and tell him how much she loved him. Mrs. Stevenson wiped her eyes with her sleeve and set the photograph back on the living room table sanctuary. Her life was destitute and nothing would ever fill the emptiness of her aching heart until she found her son. She would never stop searching. She loved her son with all her heart and nothing was ever going to change that.
About half a mile from the Harris residence a new family had moved to town. Jessica and her husband had just gotten back from their honeymoon and were ready to raise their son in a nice peaceful quiet town. Her husband had just gotten a huge promotion at work and they were financially stable. Life was good. They were on top of the world and nothing could bring them down. Jessica decided to take a break from unpacking boxes and take her five year old son to the front yard so he could test out his brand new basketball and enjoy the beautiful day. The sun was shining and the breeze rustled the trees. Orange tinted brownish leaves danced through the streets. Autumn was Jenny’s favorite time of year and she savored the moment. The sound of her son’s basketball echoed through the streets and she was at peace. Suddenly a small cluster of balloons caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. The balloons mesmerized her and she watched them drift across the sky until they were no longer visible. Suddenly an eerie silence filled the streets. She called her son’s name but there was no answer. Only silence.
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