The Pursuit

March 17, 2011
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I looked left and right. I couldn’t find them. Just five seconds ago we were walking towards the roller coasters when I lost them in the massive crowd. The plan was to meet up with five other people, watch the fireworks, and enjoy the Fourth of July. Instead, I found myself walking towards the food court, angrily clutching my phone.

I got in-line for food and kept checking my phone. Nothing. No missed calls, and no new texts. Around me there was too much commotion, I was starting to get dizzy, and everything was blurring together. But what did catch my eye was the clown in the fiery red wig, giving out lollipops. As I turned to get a better view, I saw his obnoxious outfit. His shirt consisted of blue and purple sleeves with yellow in the middle. The ruffles around his neck only added plumpness to his round figure. His Aladdin-like pants were purple, and stood out against his crimson shoes. Finally, my eyes examined his face. The white make-up looked caked on, and made his beady eyes stand out. His thin eyebrows added more eeriness to his image. He caught me looking, and smiled briefly.

I wore a tired yet grime expression on my face. Truthfully speaking, I never liked carnivals or clowns. I never got the point of them, and the thought of some random forty-year old in a costume, and make-up, creeped me out.

I turned around and paid for my ice cream, simultaneously I got the text I was longing for, and started walking back to the roller coasters to meet up with Tetyana.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fiery red wig walking in my direction. I naturally started walking at a faster pace as I saw him approaching. I looked back again and saw that there was an even lesser distance between us than before. That swift walk turned into a jog as I saw him pull out a shiny pocketknife. Meanwhile, people were enjoying themselves, and no one seemed to notice a frantic sixteen-year old. As I took out my phone and dialed Tetyana’s number, everything began to spin counter-clock wise. It was a matter of seconds before I found myself sitting in an extravagant room, watching people my age dance. I read the banner perched high on the wall: “CYM Debutantes of 1847.” I was horrified and confused. After a couple minutes I settled down and realized that my phone had transported me back in the time, to the year 1847. (Since those were the first four numbers I dialed on my phone.)

I found myself wearing a cascading white dress with lacey white gloves. I was nervously grasping a silvery white clutch as I made my way into the “Powder Room.” I dabbed cold water on my cheeks to refresh myself. Upon looking into the mirror, I saw the reflection of the clown behind me. The clown was still wearing the same attire only this time he had a roaring chainsaw in his right hand, which was covered in blood. His wig seemed dilapidated, as if he had been running the entire time. His creepy-yet-delicate smile was replaced by a smirk, and a carnivorous glare. He opened his crimson red lips and uttered: “You’re next.” He was quickly approaching, so ran but stumbled out of the “Powder Room.” Once again, I was running but no one seemed to have noticed. I opened my clutch, and found my phone. I frantically dialed: 1-941. The room seemed to swirl counter-clock wise, and in a matter of seconds I found myself in a different location.
I gazed through the windows of the store, and saw that it was wintertime. The tall office buildings were delicately covered in snow. I looked around and found myself in New York City. The salesperson interrupted my stare by asking me if he could help me pick something out. As I opened my mouth to say something, his facial features contorted to that of the clown’s. He had a firm grip on my wrist, and a pocketknife in the other hand. I squirmed, and tripped him. His plump figure made it hard to catch up to me as I ran out of the store, into the snowy streets of New York. I pulled my phone out and dialed: 1-997. Once again, I felt as if I was trapped in some sort of vortex until I found myself prancing around in my summerhouse in Ukraine.
Like all the other situations, I was completely isolated. I took extra precautions this time by locking all the doors because the last situation was a close call. I was getting food from the refrigerator when I heard the heavy droplets of rain on the roof. Thunder echoed through the house, while lightening lit up each room. Then I heard a heavy pounding on the front door, and the jovial doorbell, which now sounded like a death sentence.
I found a baseball bat, and slowly approached the front door. I tiptoed to the front door, and peaked through the curtains but only saw the blackness of the night. All was silent until I heard the glass of a window shatter. I panicked, and ran up the stair to my room. I locked the door, and then remembered that my bag was in the kitchen, along with my phone. I heard his footsteps in the hallway, approaching my room. The doorknob rattled, he knew I was in there. Tears streamed down my face but I remained silent. The chainsaw made a shrilling sound as it deteriorated my door, and the clown’s face showed its content. The clown’s make-up was somewhat washed away by the rain, revealing a wrinkly, and distorted smile as he approached me. His crimson clown shoes made a loud smacking sound against the hard wooden floor. I was terrified and my senses were escalated, everything seemed to move in slow motion. I made a run for it but he tripped me, and I fell backwards. I couldn’t feel or move my body. He chuckled loudly, and I saw his rotten yellow teeth. I was sure that it was my last sight of this world. But as the chainsaw approached my neck, my alarm rang, and I was brought back to reality.





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surya_k said...
Jan. 30 at 5:48 am
Nice story, and it was really gripping! But you shouldn't've made her come back to reality, but that line brought me back to it(haha).
 
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