After three days of fighting my urges to give up, I had finally found my stride. I wasn’t even confident that I would continue the routine, putting it off until the very brink. It occurred to me that if I didn’t put in this work, everything would crumble. It was late then. Dark streets. Cold air. In the distance I could hear a violent wind. The cars on the freeway zipping by. All of these things made me uneasy so I slipped my earbuds in and started listening to my favorite podcast. Something in my head told me that I should leave one ear empty. A small glint of reality. My anxiety said otherwise. I didn’t want to acknowledge the world. Acknowledge the shadows of night folk. Acknowledge the barking dogs. I watched myself move forward. Past homes, trees, and wooden fences. For the first time, the pain in my calves didn’t bother me. I chuckled to myself, realizing that this was no longer a challenge. A young man like me, overweight and unathletic, had accomplished the first step in my journey.
I reached the intersection in the road, meaning that I was done with my running. I had established the spot on my first day. For the past three days all I could think about was reaching that point. This fourth night, I had beat the urge. I enjoyed my run and I felt great. I continued on with the routine, taking the road to the right, a steady walk. I planned to run down that street too eventually. For now I didn’t want to overexert myself. The eeriness of the night was harder to ignore now. This street was less busy. Darker too. Many a time, I had seen drugged out people walk down that way. They liked to come and go, finding refuge on the trails of our local park. A new found confidence in me, I took one earbud out from my ear. This was not the place to ignore.
I went past a hedge decorated in fake cobweb. There were three more days until Halloween. I had gone by a couple skeletons and ghouls while running, but given them no time or notice. Goofy and cute the majority of them were. Posed in dandy positions with festive lights hung to and fro. I gazed up at the moon. A perfect circle with an ethereal orange glow. It’s cinematic aura brought up images of lycanthropes in my mind.
I took another turn to the right, downhill and vast, this road felt less dangerous, but far more alien. I’d never seen it at night before. The houses trailing to the very end seemed to go on forever. The street lights spread apart, illuminating it all with an overwhelming sense of liminality. I was closer to the freeway now and I could hear the rushing cars fly past behind the suburbs. The sound was intense. With every car it seemed like a powerful spirit was roaring near, before growing distant and non-threatening. Not a single living soul could be seen. The only sign of humanity were the porch lights that lit my way.
Silence. The comfort of the podcast gone. My phone let out one last agonizing vibration before shutting off completely. I cursed under my breath and carried on. It was then that I felt utterly vulnerable. All I had now were my surroundings to latch onto, and I did not like my surroundings. Before me, the road seemed to continue forward endlessly, drenched in blots of darkness. Anxious, I peaked behind me. Nothing. It was too late to turn back now. I had gone too far.
Walking past a decorated house, I found myself intrigued by the presentation. A dimly lit path going down the lawn. A plastic skeleton leaning over a boiling cauldron that glowed green. Standing beside this skeleton was the silhouette of a clown. The figure stood about the size of a small child, but with the build and proportions of a spindly man. It’s arms outstretched as if it was in mid conversation. Any other details were incomprehensible, it’s shape covered in shadow. Something about its stance made me feel uncomfortable. I watched it carefully as I went by.
I reached the bottom of the hill, but still the road continued on. The street lights spread out farther than before. I strode by a trailer, wondering what it would be like to have that life. Then, what can only be described as the most disturbed feeling came over me. For the the first time since I had started walking, I heard footsteps that were not my own. They were farther behind me, a clickety clack, inconsistent like an awkward tap dance. Overwhelming dread. It’s what held me as I slowly turned around. Standing in the very center of the road, a bit up the hill, that same silhouette. The clown took a step forward, the clacking of its shoe echoing on the pavement. Another step, this time with no sound. It had gotten my attention and now, whatever this horrendous little demon was, It wanted to toy with me. I watched it silently dash behind a parked car, disappearing from view. Something clicked in me. An understanding that I had never come to before in my life. It’s appearance shook me less than It’s energy. It could have been anything. A dog. A man. A beast. All irrelevant. No. It was the fact that deep in my soul, I knew that this thing was a predator and I was Its prey. Even Its size meant nothing to me.
My mind raced with possible solutions. I remembered a couple months ago, a video I had seen. A man, walking backwards from a cougar that at stalked him down a hiking trail. I emulated this concept without a second thought, backing away, my eyes trained on the line of cars I imagined it to be. My steps quick, I didn’t care to even check what was behind me. The clown stepped out into the open again, facing towards me. Still, I couldn’t make out anything on its face. Just simple outlines. A pointy chin that rolled up into two round cheeks, before expanding unnaturally outwards with a bulbous forehead. A ring of curly hair wrapped tightly around the base of this bald head, falling slightly above its cartoonishly large ears.
It let out a couple whistles. The first, quick and sharp. The second, drawn out and moved unevenly in a pitch. It ended with a fizzling squeal like a deflating balloon. The clown hopped three times to the side, before waddling to the opposite side of the street and vanishing again from sight. I quickened my pace. Something told me that it was growing closer. I saw a hint of it in the darkness, crawling on the sidewalk like a gleeful baby. It scuttled under another car and rolled back onto the road. It had now reached the bottom of the hill. Clambering back onto its feet, the clown strode forward in my direction. It moved quickly, it’s feet dancing over the asphalt, almost appearing to hover. In a split second it was dashing side to side, zigzagging from one side of the road to the other, building in speed.
Planning was no longer viable. I lost any sense of myself. Only one urge drove me. The primal urge to survive. I spun around and ran. Never had I felt so terrified in my entire 20 years of life. I ran faster, swifter, and harder than I could have dreamt to in those past three days. Pain barely registered in my head. I was a machine. Programmed with one simple prerogative: To get the ever loving fuck away from this thing. The clown, wanting to reassure me of its presence, began to emit sound once again. It’s clickety clacking shoes skidding against the pavement.
The end of the road. I had made it. I took a sharp turn to the right, a smaller street leading straight towards the busier environment I had earlier flourished in during my initial run. That was it. Hope. Washing over me. Safety and civilization. I leapt forward and very quickly, everything went wrong. My foot buckled on impact and I felt my leg jut out unnaturally to the side. A horrible realization hit me as I fell over onto the ground. I had retorn my ACL. A fear I had during these recent runs, now a reality. I let out a cry of pain and surprise. Rolling onto my back, I saw the clown stepping under the closest street light. For the first time I saw it’s face. Small, green piercing eyes, almost cat like. Those eyes stared at me, bright with excitement. It’s round red nose sat above its plump, cherry colored lips. It’s skin was stained with spots of dirt and reminded me uncannily of baseball rubber. As it took another step I couldn’t help but notice how lifeless it felt. An old decoration come to life.
I had no other options. I screamed. Shouting into the night like a crazed lunatic. Begging for someone to save me. This did not deter the clown. It smiled at me with its swollen lips and approached me. I flailed my good leg at it, kicking the empty air. I scooted myself backwards away from the thing, my hand reaching behind me and touching something soft and wet. I withdrew myself, realizing that I had stumbled onto roadkill. A large rodent, it’s guts poured out onto the concrete. Still wet and fresh. I pushed away from it, looking up at the clown. No longer did it show interest in me. Now, it seemed trained on the deceased animal. It hunched down, pinching at an intestine. Carefully it scooped up the rodent, clutching it delicately with both of its tiny hands. Finally, it noticed me again. It studied me, a satisfied look on its face. I watched it turn away and head back down the road. It’s movements childlike and giddy. It peered back at me one more time, a chunk of flesh hanging down from its lips. Content, it continued on its way, leaving me be. I heard the sound of someone’s front door creak open nearby. Heavy footsteps made their way towards me. A large man, a bathrobe draped over him, loomed over me. Concerned, he asked me what was the matter. I pointed down the street, but there was nothing to see. Trembling, I gazed crazily at the darkness. The clown was gone.