The Clown

55 Fiction

Man-on-Stilts

It’s show time.

Time to amaze the crowd.

In their excitement to shake hands with me, somebody pushed me and I fell down.

Despite the pain, I smiled and clowned around.

The show must go on, you see!

Just then a child asked if I was alright.

And tears came before I could stop them.

Linking this to Write Tribe’s 55 on Friday

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20 thoughts on “The Clown

    • I have read so many stories which confirm what you said about the sadness behind their masks. It must be like nobody must be taking them seriously and must be expecting them to be fun and jolly all the time! 😐

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