Hoppity the Clown

Applying make-up was the easy part, the fun part, the safe part. As he stared at himself in the mirror, turning misery into forced happiness, a tear rolled down his cheek. When he was done, no one could tell he’d been doing the job for over four decades. No one could read the pain he felt from the faces of disappointed children when he’d walk through their door. But parents, unwilling to spend a few hundred bucks more for a day their child would forget by bedtime, insisted on hiring Hoppity the Clown. By the time the day had ended and a dozen or so snot nosed, whiny brats got their turn yanking, screaming, pulling, kicking and name-calling all over Hoppity, he had had enough.

The Winter house was the last he had the pleasure of entertaining. The children were quiet and pleasant for once. The parents not only paid without complaint, but they tipped as well. Hoppity, for once, left with a real smile on his face.

Now, if you ask the police, all this was because hours later the Winter house and all its guests were found bound, gagged, and bludgeoned to death.

The Hag

The nuance way her hair fell across her face as she laughed was intoxicating. Everyone around her could tell she was happy, especially the Hag. Her role in society wasn’t to be happy but to take happiness away. She accepted this and never skirted her duties.

As night drew near the laughing woman parted ways with her friends. Street lights illuminate her path home. A bulb in a street lamp buzzes, then POPS! and goes out. It quickly flickers back to life on an empty street corner, with nothing but the sound of an old Hag cackling in the distance.

Dive Bar

As I swung open a rather loose door the thickness in the air hit first. The smell of alcohol was so strong I gulped back bile as I attempted to approach the bar. What didn’t enter patrons stomachs wound up on decades worth of an unmopped floor causing my shoes to stick.

One of these lost souls tried to order a beer from the bartender but the music was too loud and his speech was slurred. There were just two empty stools available. One looked like it had been used the most. The leather was worn almost completely away, replaced by pieces of clear tape to keep the stuffing inside. The other was less worn, but wedged between two rather large and burly gentlemen, with army tattoos and voices that could make anyone who got too close go deaf. There was only one good option to take.

The worn away stool wobbled slightly, but it was the best option. As the bartender came near, it was the missing teeth as he grinned at me I noticed first. What made me stand awkwardly, and leave immediately, was his missing eye as he lifted his eye patch at me.

Viper

Viper took one more drag from his cigarette before putting it out into the arm of a man. His screams echoed through the empty butcher shop.

 

Viper picked up a meat cleaver from a nearby counter as the man who was just burned became faint.

 

“Oh no you don’t. You’ve stolen from my shop for the last time,” Viper said, signaling his men. “This is what humanity used to do, but they’ve evolved since then. Too bad for you I don’t believe in evolution.”

 

The thief turned his head as his pernicious ways came to an end with one swing.

The Bodies

In case you should ever visit the prison here, in the basement is where they keep the bodies. The wardens felt it was better allocation of resources to convert half the boiler room into a make-shift morgue. Complete with built-in temperature controlled slabs, like a mausoleum, if you played your cards incorrectly, this could be your final resting place.

Just ask the man in slab number 3B-08. There lies the body of Tom “Ice” Shelby. He’s the only resident in the basement who has chosen to undermine the laws of death simply by breathing, so he can show you around.

Mama

In the corner booth of Ingram Bar sits Mama, a rather large woman. Some believe her weight comes from her diet; secrets. She devours them like people devour food, and it shows.

Nothing happens without Mama knowing. Everyone respects or fears her and that’s how she likes it. She’s judge, jury and executioner over all. If you need or want anything she can make it happen. For the right price she can give you all you desire. But payment is rather steep.

Even a woman of her size has needs, and not all of them can be paid with cash.

Lady of the Night

She is what you’d call a Lady of the Night. If you’re in need of a fix or freedom from what troubles you, she’s where you’d go. I imagine, in a place like this, her evenings are filled with countless seeking her services.

Her natural acuity for knowing what you need instantly, male or female, is uncanny. I’ve gotten to know and talk with some who’ve suggested her services to me, boasting of her many abilities.

I can’t help but wonder, where does a Lady of the Night go when she needs a fix or freedom from what troubles her?

The King is Dead

This party had a certain untenable quality about it as the room became more and more crowded. To hear it told, whispered in corners in case someone was listening, “the King is dead.”

No one knew exactly who the apparently self-proclaimed “King” was, just that they all owed their very existence to this person and now he was dead. Therefore, making merry with drink and laughter seemed perfectly innocent…

It was well into the next morning when a young woman, casually talking to her friends, innocently posed the question, “who’s next?”

Then, the room fell silent. The party was over.

Wall of Lost Souls

Down a seemingly abandoned street lives a man unlike anyone has ever seen. He himself cannot see, choosing to only come out at night, due to his averse reaction to sunlight.

One night a group of frenetic kids, seven to be exact, decided to walk down this street to get a closer look at the Unseen Man. Little did they know he wasn’t the only person down there.

I learned their story as I watched seven more names carved into the Wall of Lost Souls, meant to serve as a warning to children but has now become a grave symbol.

The Swamp

The swamp is never visited, so when Hank chose it as the best location to hide the bodies of his family, no one was surprised. Some were even heard saying, “smart lad,” in the dead of night at seedy bars where the women are cheap and the liquor is an endless stream.

What none of them knew, what the Sheriff decided was best kept to himself, was the maniacal look on Hanks face when he was finally arrested. His expression would be forever burned into the memory of a sheriff who has, and knows will, see much worse, and soon.