Chasing Pavements









Chasing Pavements

 sidewalk stories
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inOn holidayyyyy. May or may not post. ^^
Autoplay OFF  •  2 months ago
#5 in my Phobia Series. I haven't written many stories, so apologies, but this is a short story about 'coulrophobia'. (Also, the British English version of sidewalk being pavement.) Thank you. :) <3

Chasing Pavements

C O U L R O P H O B I A

C O U L R O P H O B I A is the intense fear of clowns.

It had been two hours since Ava had hidden beneath a wooden stall in the abandoned market, her knees deep in flaxen straw.

It had been two hours since Ava had hidden beneath a wooden stall in the abandoned market, her knees deep in flaxen straw. She had not seen her father, who she came with that day, almost as long as that time; upon spotting an abundance of alcohol at a nearby stall, he had scurried off like a rodent dashing through an abandoned alleyway.

Though Ava was but a child of 8, she had come to terms with her father's 'addiction'.

It was not as large of a fear as it was of an annoyance. So strangely enough, it was not the thing that had Ava's heart racing like a stampede of wildebeest crushing her chest.

At her position nestled into the ground, her mind flitted back to before.

At her position nestled into the ground, her mind flitted back to before. She had sat, watched and listened with fervour to tale after tale all describing the most grotesque creature you could ever meet.

A large, stout man, (if you could even call him that), with a painted face and hints of rouge.

He was ghastly too look at, as the children Ava had spoken to had recalled, each jumping at the chance to add in their own input.

He was ghastly too look at, as the children Ava had spoken to had recalled, each jumping at the chance to add in their own input. Fear of this beast had led Ava to cower in the dark.

Shifting ever so slightly on that hard floor, Ava sensed her chance.

Shifting ever so slightly on that hard floor, Ava sensed her chance. She ran.

Shifting ever so slightly on that hard floor, Ava sensed her chance. She ran. And ran.

The sky had began to delve into depths of crushed velvet as the little girl traipsed down the pavement, sighing and searching for her father, no doubt intoxicated at this late hour.

Coming face-to-face with her fears were certainly not in her agenda. Clinging to the shadows, she was resigned to watch as the creature that she so greatly feared followed the same path that she had only moments before.

Nevertheless, her mind began to wonder and panic was cast aside for some time.

Nevertheless, her mind began to wonder and panic was cast aside for some time. Who was this strange man who dressed up each day, was ridiculed to a great extent, yet woke up each day for the same fate?

Why did the same painted face that seemed so threatening earlier, now induce sympathy as she scrutinised his pale and peeling facade?

Why did the same painted face that seemed so threatening earlier, now induce sympathy as she scrutinised his pale and peeling facade? Clowns were a strange species, she decided.

Yanked out of thought by an iron grip that clamped around her wrist, Ava was met with the sour breath of a late-night fixation. Strangely, her fear of the clown had dissipated.

It was a childish belief, she thought, to be so scared of a painted performer.

It was a childish belief, she thought, to be so scared of a painted performer. When she had a tête-à-tête with a real monster everyday across the dinner table.

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