No More Communist Lawn Gnomes: And 16 Other Short Stories

By Xemjas R. L'shole

The trend of horror, intrigue, and the absurd returns in this second and final installment of the Communist Lawn Gnomes Duology. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xemjas R. L'shole
• Release date: Sep 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215227695

Xemjas R. L'shole

Just a guy who writes what he enjoys, and hopes to entertain the masses with his stories.

Book preview

Bobo The Faceless Clown

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It’s not that he had a fear of clowns, or ever disliked them. It was one clown in particular that he once saw as a child, that disturbed him. At the age of 23, living in his apartment with his roommate, he had long forgotten why it even bothered him that much and couldn’t tell if he had genuinely forgotten or if it was just a repressed memory his subconscious had tried to get rid of. The memories of that day sitting under the big top tent were vague and hazy at best. He remembered there was something about a clown though. What was his name? Hobo? Lobo? No, it was something else, it was a name that sounded like those without a doubt. It was-

Bobo! His mind flashed back to the memory from when he was six years old. His family had taken him to the circus when it came to town, and all of the shows and acts amazed his child mind. The acrobats and stunts, the animals and even some of the freak show had made him giggle with innocent joy. He just didn’t like the clown though. Even when the ringmaster shouted the silly sounding name, a chill ran through his spine.

A clown in a raggedy suit stepped on stage. The suit and the oversized but faded big red shoes were the only things that seemed to indicate that it was a clown, as its chalk white face looked blank. It looked literally blank, and completely smooth, like if you erased a face off a drawing completely. His parents and older brother were confused, but interested in the mystery of the clown. He just didn’t like it right away.

Now ladies and gentleman, this here clown is a special one. Bobo the faceless clown can take ANY face. He could take my face, his face, her face, eeevveeeeennnnn YOUR face! The ringmaster proclaimed as he called up a boy who seemed to be around seven or eight. This second kid perked the attention of the first that looked onward at him in both dread and hope. Maybe the clown wasn’t so bad. The blank faced clown looked down at the boy. He took out a paintbrush and palette that one of the assistants had handed to him. Within seconds he began to paint on the blank face of his. Brush stroke after brush stroke and precise movement ended up making the face the clown had painted on himself look eerily lifelike in resemblance to the child before him.

The boy giggled and the crowd watching clapped and cheered. Bobo reached out and patted the boys face with his gloves. For a second he could swear that as he watched the child on stage... that Bobo was taking his face off. The sound of the boy crying was heard by the watching child who sat there in fear. He couldn’t believe what was happening. The clown put the child’s face on its own, the skin stretching and molding onto his face. The new face was gaunt looking and wrong. It looked as though a child were stretched into looking like an adult, instead of aged. He blinked. Everything on stage was normal. Maybe he was just imagining things and let being scared get the better of himself, he thought. That had to be it.

After the show the boy wanted to go and see the clown, after his father had suggested that the best way to get over a fear was to face it head on. The boy's mother started to dismiss it, but stopped when her  son decided that what his father said might not have been a bad idea. The six year old kid ran behind the curtain of the stage and bumped into the clown, tugging on his sleeve. He wanted to know how Bobo painted faces that looked just like the ones he’d have before him. The clown looked down at him, and nodded. It squatted down, and whispered.

"I take their face." The single phrase from the normally silent and mouthless clown made the boy almost piss himself in fear. He was locked in place and helpless as the clowns gloved hands patted and rubbed his face, eventually it seemed to come off with a sickeningly wet POP! as it was placed onto bobo. It warped and shifted until it fit properly. Seeing his own face grin back at him was terrifying. The boy ran out of there and cried for his parents, explaining between heavy sobs about what happened. Obviously they didn’t believe such an outlandish story.

You just imagined something that made sense for your brain when you got scared of the clown. His father explained. The boy, that was now an adult man looking back on the memory would have believed his dad’s words had it not been for one last thing. When he got older, sometimes he would see something out of the corner of his eye while walking somewhere and he could never be sure if it was even real or not.. It was never alone, it was hidden but in plain sight. Whether it was in a crowd, or hiding behind two people as they passed by him, it was always the same thing that he’d see every time. A clown in a raggedy outfit, faded big red shoes... and a chalk white blank expanse where its face should have been. 

A Cautionary Forum Post

There’s a certain level of trust and terror that you feel when stepping into a strangers car. Hello Dark Night-Horse Horror Forums, NightshadeDeskLamp792 here and man do I have a hell of a story for you. You ever look at