I don't know what I was thinking.

It seemed like an innocuous idea: find one of the clowns, corner it, and find out why they're doing all of this. I would become a media sensation! My findings might have led to blowing the entire clown sensation wide open! All because of my bravery.

I'd be a hero.

At first, my town seemed to be a sacred land that no clown dare touch. It was a god-fearing, blue collar town where everyone knew their neighbors and the postman could eat for an entire week thanks to the housewives and their generosity. There was one school, a Baptist-run institution that - surprisingly - focused more on education than religion. Everyone who has ever lived in the town went to that school, just like everyone here got their first job at the window factory. It was simply how things were. Some call it trite. We called it home.

Sure, there was crime. One time, for example, the little Daxterly's oldest boy lashed out and broke three windows at the church. It was all over the news and the papers. People would gossip, of course. However, no one chastised him for his actions. Instead, everyone was supportive and got him the help he needed. I'm not trying to brag, this was just a genuinely pleasant and nurturing community.

When the news broke that a clown was seen sitting on the steps of the school the other night it sent a ripple throughout the calm town.

Everyone had been following the stories, yet no one was concerned of seeing them here. Why would we be? We all knew it was a prank - albeit a stupid one - that would fade away into obscurity. It was chalked up to the Daxterly boy lashing out again...until the next sighting.

And the next.

Then another.

Then two clowns together.

It wasn't until a dog was found mutilated in the middle of the town centre that the population collectively began to panic. Curfews were enforced. Shops closed early. School and church service was reduced to twice a week. Had someone passed through after dusk they would have found a ghost town. Fear was running the town now.

I wanted it to stop.

My plan was simple. Every night since the first incident, the clowns have been seen on the school grounds or the church grounds. All I would need to do is stay out of sight of the sheriff while I waited to see a clown. Then, simply run up on it and find out what the hell they're in the town for. Easy.

Darkness had finally fallen the night I made the decision to act. I've never believed in guns, nor taking a weapon to an unarmed fight...but I have to admit, the hysteria was beginning to grate on me at that point. I went out with a wooden Louisville Slugger and a flashlight.

It was slightly after 10pm, and most of the residents were already sleeping in hopes of seeing daylight sooner. That made it easy for me to avoid the sheriff as I was able to cut through backyards and hide in driveways when the patrol cars got too close. This was a small town. On a regular night I could walk to the school in less than ten minutes, but law enforcement wasn't taking any chances. It took me almost an hour to reach the school, and when I did I was upset to see nothing waiting for me. Nothing.

I posted up in a nearby tree that had a clear view of the front of the building and got comfortable. Something in my gut told me I was going to have a long wait ahead of me. I wish I could say that a few hours into my shift a clown came and I was able to get my answers. I really do...but I fell asleep.

I woke up on the lawn under the tree to blinding daylight and a gun in my face.

The officer was stern and visibly shaken, but nice enough to me. At the station he gave me coffee and a nice selection of pastries and fruits to choose from for breakfast. In other cities this might be seen as them buttering up a suspect to get them to talk, but not here. This was southern hospitality at it's finest.

We talked for a while about everything going on with the clown situation. The conversation wasn't focused on my actions like I had expected. The officer was more interested in what my thoughts were on how to deal with this clown situation that was currently paralyzing the town. I think he saw my actions as more brave than incriminating - like I wanted. I could still be a hero.

After a couple of hours, we came to an agreement on the situation. The sheriff's office would turn a blind eye to any investigations I wanted to conduct alone - even after hours. However, any criminal activity would be penalized to the fullest extent...especially assault. He made it very clear that no matter who was behind this, I wasn't allowed to touch a single hair on their head. It was a reasonable compromise.

That night, I returned to my post. It was a lot easier without having to stay out of sight. A simple nod of acknowledgement was the only exchange I had with the officers patrolling the streets. When I made it to the school I found no signs of life yet again. I climbed the tree, and settled in for a long night.

About two hours into my wait I still hadn't seen any signs of a clown. My eyes were getting heavier by the minute so I made the decision to inspect the grounds and see if I could discover anything indicating a clown might be in the area.

When I jumped to the ground from the lowest branch , I was greeted by a tall figure wearing a bright, shiny blue body suit that was bedazzled with buttons and patterns. I'd be lying if I said I didn't fall back against the tree, gasping for air. All confidence left my body as my eyes met it's face. I had been expecting a poor silicon mask, not a white human face with red lips and blue hair staring back at me. The lack of a red nose unsettled me as well. This wasn't the clown I was prepared for.

I couldn't move. My body had shut down on me when I needed it most. The clown didn't move - didn't even blink. It just stared at me deeply with bright green eyes and a smile that was permanently affixed on it's face. A stand off.

After a few more minutes, the clown reached one of its white gloved hands out to me. I looked to it's hand, and then back to those oddly bright eyes without budging and inch. Nothing about the clown had changed aside from it's arm. The clown still didn't blink. It still had that fucking smile. It nodded a couple of times towards it's hand like it wanted me to grab it. I was confused, but with the hope of humanity being behind the costume, I reached out to shake the outstretched hand. Before I was able to fully lock palms with the clown, I was met with a light shock that radiated up my forearm. I screamed. The clown arched it's head back, grabbed it's belly, and laughed at me. It sounded like there was a broken squeaky toy lodged in it's throat.

The electric jolt must have been enough to revitalize my body, as I jumped up and shoved the clown away from me as hard as I could. It fell back in an exaggerated manner, flailing it's large white shoes up and sliding on it's rear end across the grass. After a brief pause and a look of disbelief, the clown began to silently cry while rotating it's fists under it's squinting eyes and stopping it's heels into the ground.

I was annoyed with the dramatics and started yelling at the it. Nothing remotely coherent came from my mouth - just a smorgasbord of profanities and blame. Once I relieved my pent up frustrations, the clown stopped pouting and began it's squeaky laugh again, but this time it was accompanied by another noise. A louder noise that wasn't coming from it's mouth. The air around me was overtaken by a sound that was similar to a million cicadas clicking in a deep whisper. I couldn't hear the clown in front of me any longer. Everything was this overtaken by whatever was making this background noise. I fell back again, grasping my head in pain and attempting to cover my ears.

Bang

My heart stopped. I looked up and the clown in front of me was now a Rorschach painting across the grass. My interrogating officer was standing next to me with a shotgun. "Run!" He yelled at me as he grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. Surrounding the entire were clowns of all shapes and sizes, walking towards us with their mouths wide open, slightly facing the ground. We barely made it to the station, circumnavigating all the clowns that overtook the streets.

It's been thirty-eight days since that incident.

We've been barricaded in the station, taking rotating shifts in the camera room. The clowns...they've taken on our everyday lives. We watch them go shopping, walk dogs, go to school and work. It's like they're trying to replace us.

The only peculiar thing they do is surround the station at night and laugh in unison. All night, until the sun rises. Then they continue on like nothing happened. We've got full utility access here, and have been keeping up on the news. We know it's spreading. I fear that my actions that night may have caused them to resent humans. I wanted to be the hero, but I can't find a way to stop this. Greenville is gone. Don't let the media fool you - stay away from here.

More importantly, don't go near the clowns.

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