Bring on the clowns

Saint Mary's Hospital for Children was a small stone-built Victorian building that stood in its own grounds just outside of town. There had been a lot of development recently and the new housing estates had brought a lot more people into the area necessitating the building of a new hospital. Because of this, Saint Marys was in a state of being “wound-down”. The small number of patients remaining were waiting to be transferred to the new hospital and till then, their needs were administered to by a skeleton staff.

One of the patients, Susan Halliday, had been admitted only the day before. The car she had been a passenger in had been involved in a horrific accident on the nearby country lanes. Both her parents were killed outright. Miraculously, Susan had survived and suffered nothing more than bruising and concussion.

The ward was on the ground floor and, on a sunny day, the light slanted in through the row of south facing windows that made up the wall opposite to Susan's bed. On such days the sun illuminated the whole ward and the highly polished chessboard floor tiles could dazzle the eye. If you propped a couple of pillows beneath your shoulders it was possible to look straight out through these windows to the hospital grounds themselves. Eight beds were arranged four a side and of these only one had linen and a cover; Susans.

It was nine 'o' clock in the evening and the nurse had arrived to make her pre-nightly checks. She inserted something cool in Susan's ear for a few seconds, withdrew it, and informed Susan that her temperature was normal.

“When's Mummy and Daddy coming to see me?” Enquired Susan.

This was a question that anyone would dread to have to answer when they know the awful truth. Thankfully, the nurse had been told to say nothing about it as this would be handled by the professional counselors when the time was right.

“They can't see you just yet,” replied the nurse, and, quickly changing the subject said, “Would you like a cup of hot milk before you go to sleep?”

“No, thank-you,” said Susan. There was something about the nurses manner that made her feel assured and she suddenly felt very tired.

“Goodnight then” said the nurse. “If you want me, just push that button,” she said, pointing to a rocker switch next to the bedside table “I'll only be in the office at the end of the ward.”

The nurse walked slowly back to her office turning the lights off as she progressed until, from Susan's aspect, she was only a few inches tall at the end of a long dark tunnel. Susan closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Susan was sat in the back of the car as it sped along the country lanes. Her parents were arguing again and Dad wasn't paying proper attention to the road. It was only at the last second that he saw the oncoming tractor and had to pull the wheel violently to the right to avoid it. The car crashed through the hedge and tumbled over and over in the field. Susan was running towards the car which had come to rest, smoking, back on its wheels. As she got closer she could see that every panel had been buckled and twisted . She looked in at the window and saw her Father sat at the wheel. Blood poured from his head which lolled against his chest and he was making no effort to get away from the flames that licked from the dashboard. The car was filling with smoke. She ran around to the other side and her mother was screaming and hysterical “let me out! let me out!” Her fists hammered at the passenger window. Thud!, Thud!, Thud! “Susan! Let me out, let me out!”.

“Let me in.” Tap. Tap. Tap. "Let me in”.

Susan awoke from the nightmare. She could now see quite clearly the details of the ward. Everything was made monochrome by watery moonlight.

“Hey, let me in.”

Susan looked in the direction of the disembodied voice. Stood at the window was a pale-faced figure with a big smile on its face. It was wearing some sort of nightgown with three enormous buttons down the front. Around its neck was a ruff (like the pictures of Queen Elizabeth the first that she had seen in her history books) and all topped off by a battered hat. The figure cocked his head, waved and smiled through the window and then walked slowly backwards into the hospital grounds until it was gone. Susan pulled the covers back over her head.

A little while later, for want of cool air, she pulled the covers away and her vision was filled with the face of a clown leering into hers. The face was painted white but, in parts, it was crazed and flaking away. The eyes were ringed with black and teardrops painted beneath each one. The big, red painted upturn still smiled even though the owners mouth did not. A foul rush of air was summoned to play across the vocal chords to rasp “Hello, Susan” before it was made fouler still as it passed through a rancid mouth and rotting teeth. Susan backed away as much as she could as the clown reached around the side of her head, just out of her vision, and then presented to her a spray of flowers. Except these flowers were all dead, more fitting to a neglected grave than a gift to an eight year old hospital patient.

“Did you like my trick?” Asked the clown and he pushed his face right against Susans.

“I'm the hospital clown. I'm here to cheer you up.” With that, he shrieked and laughed as he danced and tumbled in the aisle between the beds. Eventually, he paused at the foot of Susans bed and gave a bow.

“Do you like birds, Susan, pretty little doves?”.

He lowered his head and tipped his hat into his hands.

“Coo, coo, what have we here? Coo, coo a beautiful dove.”

He reached into the hat with one hand and pulled out a dead pigeon. The clown made an expression of mock surprise and delight.

“Fly away beautiful, white dove, fly away to your brothers and sisters”, and with arms extended released the bird.

It fell from his hands to the floor and the impact split the birds breast so that maggots spilt out and made their radial escape across the tiles.

“Aw, poor birdy”, said the clown making a pouty face and wiping away a pretend tear from his eye.

Susan reached for the switch to summon the nurse.

“What are you doing?” Snapped the clown. “Are you calling for nursey? No point, my dear, nursey's dead. Poor nursey.”

“I want my mummy,” wailed Susan.

“Ooh boo hoo I want my Mummy,” mocked the clown, reaching into his pocket to pull out a long length of handkerchiefs that had been knotted together; each one more stained and dirty than the next.

He dabbed at his eyes as if to dry them and then loudly blew his nose before pushing the handkerchiefs back.

“Didn't they tell you, Susan, your Mummy's dead. Your Daddy's dead.  Everybody's dead. I killed them all!”

Susan pushed the covers away and leapt out of bed. The clown lunged to stop her but she nimbly ducked beneath him and ran the length of the ward. The clown pursued her but his oversized shoes hampered his speed. Susan soon reached the nurses office and burst in. The office was empty. Blood was spattered on the walls and trailed across the floor. A light was blinking in a console and a buzzer gently sounded indicating that attention was required at Susans bed. There was nowhere to hide. She looked around to see the clown standing in the doorway. Susan backed against the office wall and the clown advanced.

Something steel and wicked glinted sharply in his grip.

*****

St Marys is no longer a hospital and is now a prison for the criminally insane. The grounds have been sold off and a high wall built to make it secure. There is one inmate of particular notoriety serving a life sentence. His name? MacDonald, Ronald MacDonald.