Zany Adventures

This was going to be a Summer that I wasn’t going to forget. A Summer that I could really enjoy myself for once. Just spend time with my friends and family. Go to the lake, enjoy myself, and maybe cut loose for once.

Of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

Instead, I think I’m going to be stuck in the house for the rest of the Summer. Not that I’m entirely upset by this. Just…God, out of all the things to be happening. This must be one of the worst. I should introduce myself; I am a trans boy. And I have been transitioning since I was twelve. I’m fifteen right now. My name is Roseo Stanton. And as of last Friday, three different trans people have gone missing. All are around my age. One was a trans girl. Her name was Sapphire Lang. Another was nonbinary. Its name was Zephyr Villava. And the third was another trans boy. His name was Boaz Yough. All had been in attendance of a café’s pride event. One that I had been in attendance of as well at the beginning of the month. Though I vaguely remember seeing any of these people there.

There were a whole lot of people at that event. So, I’m not entirely sure if I remember one person there. But I doubt that really matters right now. All that matters is that no one knows what happened to them. Aside from the fact that they were taken in broad daylight. One of which, Boaz, had been taken a block from my house. All that had been found of him was his broken phone. And a piercing of his. It was said to have been found covered in blood. Whether it was his or not hasn’t been made known to the public. I’m just hopeful that it isn’t his blood.

That he managed to hurt whoever had kidnapped him. Despite how hopeful I am, I know that it probably is his blood. And that he was probably dead by now. As he and the others have been missing for about three weeks. Almost four. There’s this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach at this. As pessimistic as it is to think that all these people might be dead. I can’t stop myself from feeling as such. It was the more realistic version of events. Considering how long it had been since people had seen or heard from any of them. While there’s a small chance that they’re all still alive. I’m unable to allow myself to believe such.

Right now, I have been going over the possibilities in my journal. Trying to piece together who could have taken them. And why all on the same day. That was one thing that surprised the local police. All three of these people were taken on the same day. Similar things to Boaz were found. Broken phones. Some blood. But not enough to think that they were dead. Maybe injured. I’m pretty sure that one of them was injured. It seems strange that all three of them had been injured in a similar manner. I tried to think of various ways that could happen.

Nothing came to mind.

All that came to mind is that I or anyone else I know could be next. Any other teenagers could be. There were only ten transgender teens at the event if I’m remembering right. Aside from us four, there were six more. Two were nonbinary. One was agender. A third had been questioning her identity. I don’t blame her. She’s probably terrified to try to continue to do so now. Maybe even too terrified to keep trying the ‘she/her’ pronouns. The other two transgender teens were a trans girl and trans boy. They seemed to stick close to each other the whole event. Probably too shy to do anything. Now, I’m not sure what they’re doing at this moment. I only hope that they’re safe.

I hope that all the others are going to be found alive. Found alive and their kidnappers are going to go to jail. It is too optimistic. But I’m going to cling onto that hope as much as I can as I hold my journal tight. Praying for their safety. While I held onto my journal, I walked over to my window. Sitting down in the seat that is built into it. Looking at it, I admired everything that I saw out there. The green front yard that dad had just mowed not that long ago. Our small garden is full of beautiful flowers. It was one of the few things that dad lets me take care of with limited supervision. As he’s afraid that if he or mom isn’t there, I’ll be taken. It’s fair. I know that it’s fair that dad is doing this. One of the victims had been taken not that far from our house. It could have been me if we hadn’t been out at the beach that day. Just him and me spending quality time together. Yet, I can’t shake the urge to run out of the house to just get out. Get out and do anything that isn’t being trapped inside.

All I do is remind myself that I’m safer inside. That I was safer where mom and dad know that I’m at.

My whole body still surged with the urge to run as fast as I can. Do anything to burn off these anxious feelings. Putting my journal down, I wrap my arms around my legs and pull them close to my chest. Resting my cheek against my knees as birds fly by the window. A second later I spotted something shining across the street. It was hard to see but from what I could tell it was a bike horn. This looked like something that clowns used in the circuses that I saw as a child. From what I could see, the person holding it wasn’t a normal clown at all. They were tall, wore baggy purple clothes, and had bright red hair. Their face was difficult to make out from this distance. But I could see they had a bright white face with a red nose. Their clothes had large yellow spots, and I couldn’t see their eyes from where I was in my room. All I had was this feeling that they were looking right at me. Quickly, I got up from the seat near my window. Not breaking eye contact with them as I grabbed the curtains. Shutting them as my heart pounded in my chest. Starting to wonder if maybe being cooped up inside was starting to get to me.

Then there was a loud honk outside of my window. Much like someone had squeezed a bike horn. With a lot of hesitation, I peeked through the curtains. My eyes go wide as I spot the clown from the street. It didn’t seem possible since my room is on the second floor. Yet here they are. This gave me a view of this person that I never wanted. They were a man. His mouth was a huge painted red smile. With little blue diamonds on his cheeks. Big green diamonds were painted over his eyes and a tiny yellow star painted on his temple. He had bright blue eyes that held this…this disturbing calm. Soon as we made eye contact, he grinned widely. Revealing rows of sharp white teeth. Without thinking, I shut the curtain and hurried to my closet door. Opening it as quickly as possible and grabbing the metal baseball bat that I kept. Turning back around I held the bat up defensively as I waited for him to break the window. Break the window and come and get me. What happened next completely floored me.

My window pushed open as if I hadn’t locked it. A loud laugh filled the air as the clown floated through it. Landing quietly in front of the window as he stared at me. Tilting his head to the side as he continued to chuckle. Both of us just stared at each other for a long time. Soon as he took a step towards me, I raised the bat and warned,”Any closer and I’m bashing your brains in…”

It made him pause for a second. Then he let out a bloodcurdling chuckle before taking another step towards me. Not caring that I was threatening to cave his skull in. Or that I was armed. All it seemed to do was entertain him. Getting closer to me as I held the bat high up. Once he was within range, I struck him hard with the bat. Hard enough to make him let go of the balloons. Dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Head snapping to the side at an awkward angle. What leaked out of his wound looked like blood. But I smelled cherries for some odd reason. Taking a few steps toward my bedroom door, I carefully reached behind me to open it. Suddenly it opened and at first, I thought it was my dad. So, I turned to look at him to say something. Whatever it was that I was going to say had died on my lips when I saw the person. Another clown. Similarly dressed like the one I just beat with a baseball bat. Only with bright green and pink on their outfit. An older man that looked like he was balding. Before I could even consider using the bat on him, I felt it being yanked out of my hands. I turned to see that the clown I had cracked the skull of was standing near me with it in his hands.

He tossed it to the other side of the room. And before I could open my mouth. The clown at the door grabbed my throat. Squeezing it so tight that I was unable to fight back properly. While the other clown that I had hurt pulled my wrists behind my back. Wrapping them in handkerchiefs. Then around my ankles, knees and upper arms. More of them were shoved into my mouth. One being wrapped around my eyes and a second later, my throat was released. I tried to scream but all that came out were muffled gurgles. Thrashing was impossible and they carried me out of my room like I weighed nothing. Neither of them say anything as they walked me out of the house. My heart pounded hard in my chest as I prayed that I wasn’t going to die. And that I was going to see my parents again. I closed my eyes as tears ran down my face. Thinking to myself,’Please, Lord. Please…don’t let me die like this.’

‘Please.’