The Trident Clown

A murderous Clown holding a trident came after him in the middle of the busy countryside fairground. He had seen the Clown somewhere before. To be frank, he had, but not this bloodthirsty and armed with a b****y trident. Yet his memory refused to remind him of where and on what occasion. Oh, now he remembered. It was only three days ago. He had played an ancient daring game of Miss Fortuna with the Clown. The Clown had said the man had lost and he had proudly walked away. Right now, he ran! At full speed, the man ran and bumped into the carefree carnival countrypeople. At one point, his wallet slipped out of his loose coat. It was a point at which he turned, just in time to see the beggar boy he had told to get lost earlier pick it up and scurry away. With the murderous Clown right behind him. Him! Haha, looks like the boy never got lost and even if he did, he had found his way back and thank God for small favours, he also found a delicious token lying on the path of his journey back home. "Curse you, street rat." Bet that's what you believe the man on the run would have said. Oh no, that's not what he said. His jumbled mind was too far off to even remember to curse the boy. Why? Because a murderous Clown holding a b****y three pronged spear was after him. His dear life at that. Like an agitated palomino, he galloped fast like he's never done his entire proud life. Few hours later, his body was found stuck in a sharp crag near the river shore by some local fishermen. The fast-flowing water ebbed and flowed against his bare skin, giving him one thorough last bath. Oh, and the body wasn't just found. It was cold, pale, lifeless and three deep holes punctured where the heart used to be.