I never had Coulrophobia before that night encountering the clown with no face. Clowns were a big part of my childhood; Sol, Krusty, loonette and her doll Molly, Ronald McDonald, hell IT was my favourite horror book and movie growing up. It’s funny how life can take something that you loved and turn it into a horror fuelled nightmare.
The Jasper School of Arts is where my love turned into my gut-wrenching phobia. I had a faze in my early 20s, like a lot of people where I was obsessed with urban exploring and photography. I ventured out and photographed a lot of decrepit buildings during that time so when my friend Jeff told me about an abandoned school that had a room dedicated to the art of clowning, I could not pass it up. Jeff told me how when they closed the school they had just left the classroom the way it was, and it made for wonderful pictures.
It wasn’t far from where I lived so my girlfriend and I packed up and made our way over there to scout it out. The ashy gray building was nestled in a little forest off the highway, the smashed windows and broken door added a certain creepy esthetic to the place. Even though the night was beginning to descend fast, we noticed that no one was around so probably wasn’t guarded, at least not too heavily.
Taking a few photos outside we decided to venture in to find this room. As we entered the broken door, leaves and dirt that were scattered across the floor crunched under our feet. Pulling up my camera I began taking shots of the graffiti lining the walls. Most were generic sprawling words and names or some forms of edgy 666s and “satanic” imagery, but littered throughout were giant murals of clowns in different poses. Some of the clowns were leaning or sitting on invisible walls or boxes, some were dancing, and some even had little balls they were balancing on. It was breathtaking save, for one thing, all the clowns seemed to be missing a face. I honestly chalked this up to the artist maybe being terrible at faces but a little unease tensed in my stomach at the site.
After a few more shots we turned on our flashlights and moved through the building. The graffiti thinned out but that faceless clown was on every single wall as if beckoning us towards the room. Opening up some doors on the way, showed pretty basic classrooms or offices, but not what we were looking for. After about 20 minutes of walking around the deserted campus, we came across a set of double doors, the giant faceless clown was painted across them with the hand reaching out as if telling us to come in. A plaque affixed beside the door confirmed it, ‘Clowning Arts’.
My girlfriend was hesitant asking me to turn around and leave because it was now dark and she could feel the unease gripping her stomach. I offered for her to stay outside the doors while I went in and explored which she reluctantly agreed.
Opening one of the doors I entered the room alone. Shining my flashlight around I noticed there were no windows so with the door closed there would be absolutely no light without my flashlight. I began to look around at my surroundings; big racks of dusty colourful costumes filled one side of the wall opposite a bunch of cobweb-infested wigs. A bunch of props were strewn across the floor leading up to a giant mirror in the back with a long plastic table that had makeup littered across it. This was a goldmine and got me excited about the pictures I would get.
After taking a few pictures and checking some of the items out I got a bright idea. I turned off my flashlight so I was draped in pitch black and set the flash. Each time I hit the button, the room was blasted with light, casting eerie shadows in all sorts of directions. Carefully walking around so as not to hit any objects I came in front of the clothes rack.
I snapped a picture, the bright flash lighting up the vibrant colours of the clothes. As the light began to extinguish, I saw for a second just a shadow between two parted costumes. I snapped again to try to check what I saw, there seemed to be a bright red wig popping out. Fascinated by this I did it again, but nothing was there and the clothes weren’t parted.
I ignored the nervousness beginning to grow inside me thinking it was just the dark playing tricks on me, but as I stood there in the pitch black the anxiety got the better of me. I dropped the camera so it swung around my neck by the strap and reached into my pocket to grab my flashlight. I tried to turn it on but the light wouldn’t shine. I flipped the switch on and off, smacking it against my hand but nothing worked. Frustrated, I put it back away and began to leave, but with all the thoughts swirling in my head and the brick in the pit of my stomach I couldn’t figure out where the door was in the pitch black.
I started taking pictures to have the flash go off so I could see my way, I found I was in the opposite corner from the door, how I got there I still don’t know. I turned around and began making my way to the exit, taking pictures every few steps. I had only got about two feet when I saw it again. The red hair sticking out from behind the table.
As I moved forward at my slow pace, I kept the flash transfixed on that spot as a figure started to rise. I moved faster, taking pictures less frequently to not see what was happening. Unfortunately, I kept bumping into and tripping on things so I couldn’t stop the flash altogether. Eyes transfixed on this thing rising every time I had light, I tried to keep a large berth. Most rational people would assume it was someone just playing a trick on me but I did not believe it then and still don’t believe that now.
As I reached the midway point of the room is when the clown fully emerged. Before I stood the most grotesque sight. My eyes ignored the blood-red hair and striped costume and went straight for its face, or lack thereof. Where this clown’s face would be was a giant crater of bloody gnarled tissue; maggots wiggled inside causing puke to build up in my throat. It was still able to give off a deep, eerily happy chuckle from the hole.
I leapt back falling to the ground as my flashlight tumbled to the ground, seeming to fix the issue it had earlier and illuminating the clown. I scrambled back smacking into the wigs behind me causing spiders to shake loose and fall on my head and shoulders. I quickly brushed my head, as the Clown danced towards me laughing a throaty eery laugh.
I screamed which caused the Clown to stop and look at me intuitively. It raised its hand to where its right eye would have been and mimicked wiping away tears but instead splattered blood and maggots on the ground. We stared at each other for a good 30 seconds before banging jostled us out of our stare-off. We both looked at the door as it was pushed open.
My girlfriend stood there, her mouth a gasp. Knowing I needed to protect her I scrambled towards the door. The Clown was close behind me as we ran. I could hear the smack of his oversize shoes close behind me accompanied by the splashes and liquid and that now familiar laugh. I yelled at my girlfriend to start running as I was mere feet from the door, and she complied. I was so close but at the last possible second a searing pain erupted on my bicep and I was spun around. As the creature faced me it let out the loudest laugh yet spraying its disgust right into my eyes as I slid out the threshold.
It took me a second to realize I had hit the ground and wiped the blood from my eyes so I could see. When I looked at the double doors there was no sign of the faceless clown and the doors seemed to be slowly shutting. As I looked at my bicep as it still seemed to burn, the large outline of the clown’s hand seemed to be seared into my flesh. As I got up and began to run through the corridors, all the faceless clown murals seemed to be echoing that creepy laugh, mocking me as I left the building.
So, if you ever come across the Jasper School of Arts please do not enter the building, and especially do not go looking for the faceless clown. As fun as it might sound, the only thing I have from that night is a permanent burn on my arm and a lifelong phobia of something I once loved.