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"A circus has come into town, a real circus! There are elephants and camels. There is fortuneteller Jaria and her enchantresses!" reading this announcement I became interested what the circus made up for this time?

One and the same troop came to our town many times, and each time they cooked up something new. From year to year they came to our town to pay tribute to one of their artists – it seems to a clown – during performance a knife pierced him to death. The troop buried him right here, near their dome for performances. However, it was the clown's death that heralded a harvest of death.

There was incomplete construction not far from the tent. Some day they had wanted to build a hospital here, but construction was suspended, because of scarcity of means. But the strangest began after departure of the troop. Children always played on the building site, it drawn them to it as a magnet draws iron filings, as if someone invisible invited kiddies to join him.

Time passed by – young people disappeared, well, not only young people, but everybody who turned out to be there. Kidnapping was ended up only when the troop came to the town with new program.

And then when every busybody in town was in the circus tent, I decided to see over the building site, I had heard so much about. That time I thought I would be safe as that day was circus performance. And how mistaken I had been!

When I found my way I felt like a cat on hot bricks. Shadows in the light of my flashlight seemed to me demons and ghosts. Each rustle seemed a message, and any puff was a touch that made my hair stand on end.

Having inspected all three floors of the hospital, I decided I had fiddled away time when I caught a cry, a screaming cry of a woman which passed into peals of laughter, a man laughed. He kept saying she was dead, old Jaria's dead, and there I understood it. The circus came to town not for earning or checking his friend's grave, but to restrain his distraught ghost.

But now no one could stop him. The clown who had died on the stage, returned on it.

I was trembling. I was on the third floor of the hospital. Three floors were on my way to saving myself. I couldn't make a move, but knew if I'd done it, I would stay there forever. I took my flashlight and walked the corridor to the ladder when out of the corner of my eye I suddenly saw something vehement and fast. It blasted past me, but I didn't felt a gust of wind. I began to go down, I saw it on each floor. There was one floor and I would be freeside. My heart was throbbing badly, as I hastened steps something turned me in the opposite direction off the exit. It was he who stood in front of me. In blue-and-white costume, dirty and torn, make-up smeared all over his face, thus looking like the Devil. Just below his neck a throwing knife was sticking out, a dark spot around it. I looked full in the face of the whopper, and it looked at me. It gave a smile, and bared his yellowish teeth. Looking a little close I noticed he had been decaying, little white wormlings wriggled in his cheek, his right hand lacked two fingers. He made a move toward me slowly and deliberately. He came to me and began to scalp me. I cried and squirmed, but the clown didn't care a curse, he continued to tear me apart. And when it was all over with me, he started to laugh. He was breaking out into a laugh that only clowns may laugh with...

You do ask me how I can tell about it, if I'm dead? Well, it's quite simple. The clown always sends me to tell stories to whom he is going to come for.