Nothing to Laugh At

By Greg Wilburn

As John runs from the hollow gaze of the ever-nearing clown, he is forced to question his importance to the clown and his very own sanity. He frantically searches for answers while knowingly sacrificing friends and loves to the demon, hoping to finally be rid of the monster that refuses to let him live in peace. He knows he's no one special, living a monotone life full of routine, but yet the clown only visible to him seems to desire him above all. This leaves John to wonder if it's possible to find a way to be rid of his foe or give up his benign existence so that the clown can finally have what it wants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Wilburn
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310433108

Greg Wilburn

What is most important about writing is the art of storytelling. I hope that my writing does what a great story should do: make you feel, think, and see something so vividly that it impacts your interactions with the world around you after you've read it. That's because writing is a world all of its own. I write horror, flash fiction, and literary stories that take what we see--even what we want to see--and make it something entirely different. What is most important to this kind of experience is that you leave it saying, "Yep. That was it. And now my world is made anew."I am a writer living in San Dimas, California, and I know that the stories I bring to Smashwords are worth the small contribution I ask. If not, tell me; I want to be a better writer, and I can't do it without feedback. Tell me your thoughts, and show me your stories. Let's share what our imaginations hold together.

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Nothing to Laugh At

By Greg Wilburn

Copyright 2014 Greg Wilburn

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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NOTHING TO LAUGH AT

THREE HOURS AGO (Back at the apartment)

It began today, just like it began eight years ago. It began, and that’s as best as I can describe it. More like it restarted, as if I’d been sent double-backing into a past that I’m always running from.

I was having such a lovely day too. I was sitting at Marcel’s Bistro on the corner of Luden Street and Stamen Avenue, enjoying some biscotti with my caramel latte, when amidst the bustling hoards of fashionistas, construction workers, secretaries, gangsters, and graphic designers I saw it. It was the only stationary object in the middle of the crowded intersection, unaffected by the rushing hours of the day.

I don’t imagine that it should care about time of any sort. If it did, it wouldn’t feel the need to waste its valuable time on me. And it would have a watch. Any good person who wants to keep on top of their schedule has