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Idle thum is taunting. A cruel whisper above heads. A vacuum, an eliminator of life. A blanket of dark, visceral emptiness. It all hides beneath its beautiful spirals and speckled shimmer. Fissures in a tormented cranium, afflictive ache augments. Synapses bled by triggers, voids soulless groan, mustering semblance of friendliness, dark stands adhered. Slate stare shifts. It was deep in the world, only its unaligned outcome to describe it. The wild attire of a clown, a veil, a malignant and sadistic one. Merely a modicum of its true nature. Its voice seemed to drift through the cave, as if it were whispering into the ears of those who were unfortunate enough.

There were drips, clicking against the ground inside the cave. Like a leak in a roof; not something so unimaginable for Arda. Only it wasn't a leak in a roof. It was its thick saliva spatting to the floor, having dangled from the glossy pink flesh of the clown's lower lip for too long. Its eyes glowed a bright yellow, a predatory yellow, glaring motionlessly in the corners of the dark. One stuck off to the side, twisted, but the other stared, its greasepainted brow furrowed in intrigue, in a longing hunger. "I see," an exhalation, half glee, half mocked panic. Tantalising its palate, lathering its own mouth with spit and thick drool.
The clown guffawed, a strange and breathy giggle, as the people seemed terrified. It bound its head up and down, rapid and without pace, flailing the hairs that sprouted from its bulbous, cracked scalp. "Won't do you any good to come here, grown-ups." its demeanour changed, the insidious smile that had crept to its jagged teeth fell, and the clown was nearing its prey, beginning a slowed approach. Its movements were jaunted, each laboured step thinning to those who were unlucky enough to come.

It then stood silent, in the dark. The heavy darkness hanging over the clown and them. Only it seemed to get heavier when the clown spoke. "Why, what child doesn't love me? They flocked to me like birds." It continued to hide, veiled it behind the encompassing dark; the red, plastic skin cracking. Balloons rising, and thick and warm blood was throbbing and bubbling from the skin, dribbling down on the ground and giving a tormented fright. "Your lovely adorable children. But - but you let them get taken, didn't you? Poor little children. So nice. They got taken, didn't they? That's why you're all here. A-ha! A-ha!" The blood pooling in its jaw, slurring its speech as it spat red with each word. "Because of your neglect."

It had enticed its prey. All the more reason for its hunger to grow, its appetite to become more starved. Fear was fertile, but it needed more. Needed to tenderise. "Want to know where they are? I know you do..." The voice rasped, like a whisper in the ear. There was now a dankness to the air. Whether from it itself or the fortune of worthless remains it had accumulated, it was unknown. It was still there; floating, hanging in the air, and it wouldn't go away. "Daddy? The clown gave me a balloon. I'm stuck up here..." Pleading in a childish voice - one that veiled its truth. Its domain might become clearer to them now; the central duct of its network, the eye of its web. The lights grew here, until the very top of the cave brightened. The children were floating. Hands holding balloons.

It flexed its fingers, the soft cloth rising and rippling with the movements it made. It grinned, the corners of its lips pulling back to bear its gruesome maw. "I'm in the circus, daddy. Won't you come and join me?" It stole their voices, commandeered the voice of innocence and lured them all into a trap. It opened its mouth, the jagged buck teeth failing to prevent the constant seeping of thick and bloodied black tar bellowing from its gullet. The light was becoming clearer and a small light was coming close. Long and predatory movements before a childish jingle was heard. It was there. Right next to them. "Run for your life!" childish and playful, the terror creased the greasepaint on its face, and they were no more.