The Boy Who Turned Fifty-Eight

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“Please Nana, pleeeease. Finish the story. The one with the boy who had no friends.” Zaya pouted her lips beneath puppy eyes. She sat folding her legs beside her grandmother's recliner. The dimly lit room illuminated by the full moon made the evening vibrant.

“And one day, Almando found a dusty old chest under his great aunt's bed. It reeked of abandonment and mildew. Almando got very curious like a cat. He knew his aunt was a witch and often cast spells but still, he opened the chest. He found a clown costume that had yellowed with time yet the red nose and exaggerated smile on the mask remained clear and bright. The costume had sparks of green light bolts oozing from it.” Nana peeked at Zaya’s innocent face. She was listening so attentively and her round eyes shone so bright.

“Go on Nana. What happened next? Did he take it?” Zaya beckoned with eager eyes.

“Oh, you bet he did. Almando, without caution, grabbed the costume. He thought, ‘I know the other children will finally play with me when they see this. Kids love clowns.’ Just then, something strange happened. The little bolts of lights washed all over Almando.”

“What happened next?” Zaya stretched with enthusiasm waiting to hear the end of the story.

“That is where the story ends little one. Some say that a wicked clown who takes children was magically trapped in the chest. Almando was unfortunate enough to free the evil clown and it took him away. No one ever saw Almando after that day.” Nana fixed her glasses and slowly rose from the recliner. “Rumor has it that the clown still lives and every first of December, he lurks for his next victim. That's why you must never go out alone in the dark.” Nana kissed Zaya's head goodnight before handing her a chocolate bar.

“These are just stories Nana aren't they?” Zaya was a tad frightened but she didn't want to show it else Nana would stop telling her night stories.

“I am afraid this one isn't. Fifty years ago here on Radle Street, my friends and I were those kids who would not play with Almando. We were just a bunch of eight-year-olds. I'd give anything to go back in time and be friends with him.” Nana turned pale. “It is why there are seldom parties with clowns on Radle Street. Good night sugar.”

Zaya went to bed late that night. She had started to fall asleep when she heard the jingles from an ice cream truck. She roused and her eyes fell on her bedside calendar. Nana's candy had not satisfied her eight-year-old sweet tooth. She needed more. Without a second thought, Zaya retrieved some pennies from her drawer and dashed outside.

She had reached the middle of the street before a feeling gripped her. The air was still and chilly. The jingles accompanied by the wind went from cheerful to eerie. Zaya began to tip-toe backward but the truck started to reverse. It stopped and suddenly, a clown jumped out of the driver's seat. He looked at Zaya and grinned widely.

Zaya swallowed hard and began to race back home. She ran into her room and locked herself in a wardrobe. Through the holes, she could see her bedroom window open. Zaya wished she could close them but she was so petrified her legs went numb. She could feel her heart thump. She clutched her knees to her chest and a tear dropped from her eyes. Then she remembered the date on her calendar. “December the first,” she whispered.

Her heart raced when she saw the face of the clown through her window. He had stretched to the height of her bedroom window upstairs. His mask was white and his hair was a yellow kink. His red nose shimmered and he was grinning. Zaya watched as his hands stretched like rubber from the window, into her room, and through the wardrobe. “Hello, Zaya. Wanna play?”

“Zaya felt his cold grip on her shoulders. Like the stalk of a leaf, he lifted her from the wardrobe. Zaya tried to scream but only muffled sounds escaped her lips. She was now as tiny as a carrot in his palm. The clown took long strides through the street until they entered the woods. She shut her eyes. When she opened them, she found herself lying on a bed in a house that looked like the inside of a box. She looked to her side and found the clown seated on a recliner grinning. He had transformed into a regular-sized being. She almost jumped out of her skin.

“I just want to play with you.” He giggled.

Zaya stared cautiously. “You are that evil clown? You took Almando didn't you?” She spoke with a firm expression. The fright was slowly seeping out of her.

“Almando?” The clown's composure changed for a moment as if something had hit him.

“Yes. Nana’s story is real. He found you in a chest and you took him fifty years ago.” Zaya had gained more confidence as she saw his demeanor shift.

“Al-Almando….My name is Almando.” He began to stutter. I wore the costume because I only wanted the other kids to play with me. I'm not evil.”

“Almando?” Zaya came closer. She slowly took off the mask on his face to reveal a pale and delicately wrinkled face. “It's been fifty years, Almando.”

Almando instantly felt different. It was like something had left his body. He touched his face and looked at his hands in disbelief. “Fifty years? I thought I put this on just a while ago.” Tears trickled down his face.

“I think the chest was cursed and you were trapped in this suit for fifty years.”

“Jake, Sam, Sofia, and Ahmad? All gone?”

“No, they aren't all gone, Almando. Sofia is my grandmother. I am certain she'll love to meet you again.

Almando’s face brightened and a smile escaped from the creases of his lips. He was still bewildered at the crooked and aching revelation. He felt like a boy in the body of an old man but he also felt a renewed hope to pick up his life again after fifty years.