A bad dream, his mother said. Nothing but a bad dream, the kind where your legs won’t move...or anything else for that matter. GONNA DIE RIGHT HERE!
Trying to swallow the huge lump stuck in his throat, Davey watched as the clown moved its arm as if it was beckoning to him, its arm making large arcs, urging him to come to it! Over and over, beckoning, beckoning...Davey watched until finally, it stopped, glared up at the frightened small boy in the window, and swirled around into a sudden gathering mist and disappeared.
Another sleepless night for Davey.
“You still don’t look very well, Davey,” his dad remarked, when Davey finally dragged himself downstairs the next morning.
“I’ll make you some tea and toast, Son. You stay home and get some rest. We’re taking Abby to the doctor’s right now. She has a fever and is not well, at all. She threw up this morning,” his mother added.
Davey nodded in agreement. He didn’t want to worry them any more than they already were. Maybe he would mention the nightmare of the clown again to his mom, later in the day. Then again...maybe not.
It was still so real to him, that he couldn’t shake the apparition from his fuzzy mind. After they left, Davey curled up with a blanket on the living room couch, in front of the television and dozed off immediately.
He slept fitfully, thrashing and yelling aloud in his sleep, until the loud jangle of the phone woke him up. He mumbled, “Wha––?”
The phone. Okay. He crawled to the end of the couch and lifted the receiver.
“Hello,” he croaked. Cleared his throat and said a little louder, “Hello?”
It was his mom. “Son, we will be home later. They are admitting Abby. They think she may have the flu or something and want to keep her overnight to keep an eye on her.”
“Okay, Mom” Davey yawned loudly. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Honey,”“‘S’okay,” he replied.
“If you’re hungry, just snoop in the fridge, or open up a can of soup from the pantry,” June sounded anxious.
“Okay, Mom. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he said with false bravado. “Just take care of
Abby. Kiss her for me.”
“Okay, Son. Love you.”
“I love you too, Mom,” he whispered, then hung up the phone.
Why did he feel so scared? He’d been home alone lots of times.
Davey scrambled into the kitchen and looked for something to eat. He satisfied himself by preparing some chicken noodle soup and a Spam sandwich, with a glass of milk that rounded off his dinner.
He thought, more television, something stupid that would be funny––take his mind off...He munched away. This was the only time he could get away with eating in the living room, as there was no one there to yell at him for it.
It was now after dark––past eight o’clock and they weren’t home yet! Come home! Come home! I can’t take it here all by myself! Not when there is a green clown waiting for me outside! Please, please!
He just about leapt out of his skin when the phone rang again. He raced for it, nearly dropping it as he frantically held it to his ear.
“I thought I’d better call so you won’t worry about us, Davey,” his mom said. “Are you okay, did you eat something?”
“Yes, Mom. When will you be home?” He practically yelled the words, got hold of himself and said more calmly, “Are you coming home soon? I don’t like it here by myself.”
“Yes, Davey, we will be home soon, but they’ll be keeping Abby. Her fever has not gone down, as yet. I thought perhaps we might stay overnight with her, if it’s okay with you...? Mrs. James, from next door, could look in on you from time to time.”
“NO! I mean, no, please come home.” He felt like such a baby, begging her like this, but he really couldn’t take another minute living with such deep, wrenching fear.
“I understand, Davey. Bad dreams again? We’re on our way.”
He let out such a huge breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, until she agreed to return home to him. Mom understands––sort of.
After his parents arrived back home and had gone to bed, Davey did his best to resist the urge to gaze out the window; where he knew the clown waited for him. Not a dream, Mom, not a nightmare! He pinched himself on his arm. Ouch! I am wide-awake, not in bed, not dreaming.
He pulled the curtains aside.
Davey started to cry out, but managed to cover his mouth with his hands, hands that trembled so violently, it’s a wonder they obeyed his command. The green clown stood closer this time, still beckoning him, over and over, its wicked red grin spreading threateningly over its ghoulish white face. It took a few more steps, with its large floppy shoes slapping on the pavement of the street. Closer...closer.
Get away! Go away! No matter what you do, I’m not coming out! I won’t go with you!
In the center of the street, the clown stopped. It wiggled a finger at him like a warning, or something sinister he planned for him. It turned, and like before, left in a whirl of fog––no longer there. The empty street gaped blankly at him, seeming to wait– –and wait.
Davey felt like his life was about to shatter around him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it! He didn’t mean to curse, but this was a special occasion. He turned and quickly crawled deep into the covers of his bed, where he shivered uncontrollably. He was so drained of energy that he finally fell asleep toward morning, just when his mother poked her head into his room.
“Hey, Sleepyhead, we’re off to the hospital. You sleep some more and I’ll call you soon with some news. Don’t worry. We won’t be gone all day, this time.”
Davey tried valiantly to rise, but felt too weak. He wanted to say that he’d get up, get dressed, and go with them, but couldn’t. His sleepless nights were catching up to him, draining all his strength.
He slumped back down. “Okay, Mom. See you later...”
He heard her voice as it trailed off, “I don’t know what’s wrong with these doctors, Guy! They say there is no earthly reason for Abby’s illness. She just gets worse and worse. What will we do if we lose her?”
He fell asleep at once; didn’t even hear the door close.
It was mid-afternoon when the ringing of the phone clanged through a dream in which he roamed the hallways of the hospital, trying to find the room where his little sister lay ill. In his dream, Abby was on her deathbed. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his rib cage and his legs were so rubbery, he could barely stand. He clung to the walls as he teetered this way and that.
Brrrriiinnnngggg, went the phone again.
“Okay, okay!” Davey shook the sleep from his mind and rose to answer the phone.
He grumped all the way down the stairs to the phone in the kitchen.
“Hello? That you, Mom? When are you coming home? How’s Abby?”
A small nervous voice said, “I’m not your
Mom.”
“Who are you then?”
“Timothy.”
“Timothy, who? I don’t know any Timothy.” Davey was still trying to shake off cobwebs of sleep and was not truly awake yet.
“Timothy. You know, from your class...?”
Suddenly Davey was wide-awake. “But you’re missing! Or dead. Or something! Where are you?”