Boogieman
It is reported he does not need a troupe. No supporting cast, no greater effect with the collective. Alone, he can bring an unsuspecting gathering to debilitating mirth, elicit laughter from the most determined glum. He has special tricks, tricks other clowns cannot find in themselves, a rhythm in sync with the galaxy. As time wanders on, there are more reports of him attacking with extemporaneous shows, producing previously un-imagined props. Some of the sightings are no doubt imaginary, some inspired by social need. But the retained giggles of his victims ring true. He becomes a concept to scare children.
Added Value
Boys, and the occasional girl, go further afield, seeking to kidnap spiders. With their burlap sacks, they slip down roads untrod for years, looking for old houses leaning away from prevailing winds, front porches askew, chimneys defiant alone. In edges and along empty door frames, webs are strung to capture the insects that once bedeviled a farmer’s family. By the dozens, feral spiders are scraped into sacks, to be sold on street corners in town. Patrons pay a premium, as they know these were collected by boys, and the occasional girl. The taste is no better, but the provenance is.
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The latest of Ken Poyner’s twelve collections of poetry and flash fiction is Science Is Not Enough, speculative poetry. He lives in the lower right-hand corner of Virginia, and is married to a world champion female power lifter. He spent 33 years herding computers. See him in Analog, Asimov’s, Café Irreal, Blue Unicorn and another hundred or so places.
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