THE CLOWN WHO SMILED IN THE DARKNESS

The rain ruined the old, rusty roof of the abandoned circus as Tomás wandered among the dilapidated tents. No one had set foot there for two decades, not since the night five children vanished without a trace.

The air smelled damp and mossy, with a hint of dried blood and the rancid odor of spoiled sugar. Somewhere in the center of the main ring, he came across a small red chair, illuminated by a flickering light. A dusty clown nose lay upon it. Then he heard a soft, childlike chuckle from the dark corners of the stage. Tomás took his time and saw a very tall person in an old-fashioned clown costume. His makeup was cracked, but the red smile remained untarnished on his pale face.

The clown didn't just walk; he glided across the floor as if he were gliding on air. His dark eyes seemed endlessly empty, devoid of light. Whenever the storm illuminated the circus with lightning, the creature seemed to approach silently. Thomas tried his best to run, but the doors slammed shut, and he began to hear the quiet whispers of children gathering beneath the circus tent.

His name was repeated urgently each time. The clown raised a bony hand and pointed toward an enormous magic box. Its rusty chains wrapped around it, loud bangs and sobs began to fill the air, which trembled as Thomas felt small nails poking through from inside.

The beast let out a thunderous laugh that caused the lights to go out one by one. Only the clown's white teeth were visible in the complete darkness. The children's quiet chatter turned into screams that echoed throughout the circus. All the missing children had the same clown smile on their faces during the day.

In the last photograph was Tomás... although that picture had been taken that night. And there, with a serene smile, the clown was practically on his face.