Twisty The Clown Without Mask の小説・ストーリー

Opening one of them, she pulled out a blonde wig and a nose mask. “You’ll have to be disguised before this can be successful.” She went ahead to glue the wig to my head, making it look like my real hair. Clara then quickly made me up, changing my features to closely resemble hers. Afterwards, I put the mask on. While the other two remained in the room, the hairstylist and I promptly walked out of the building. The staff were busy, hurrying around to finish the preparations. And we managed to reach the parking lot without anyone noticing or suspecting anything.

While most of the clowns had fallen to the ground, a dozen more people still blocked the exit. At this time, the clown wearing the pink mask suddenly moved forward and knocked my mask away, but she seemed shell-shocked when she caught sight of my face. I seized this opportunity and quickly rushed to the wall I leaped up on the piled containers and climbed over the wall in one jump. “Hurry up! Chase him! Damn it! What the hell is Sally doing? He is running away, but she’s just standing here like a statue. Luckily, we have quicker reactions!”

Someone came out from the backstage. Gladyce looked up. It turned out to be... a clown? "Clang, clang, clang." Gladyce laughed and shook her head. "He's so tall. Do you think I can't recognize him just because he's wearing a clown's mask?" Simon was wearing a clown mask, with three apples in her hand. She drew circles in the air. They were having a good time. Gladyce tilted her head slightly and looked at him with a smile. "Princess, do you want an apple?"

And in the center, sitting calmly in a folding chair, was Mirabel Carson. She looked smaller than Lucy remembered. Older. But her eyes held the same cold calculation. "Lucy," Mirabel said pleasantly. "Thank you for joining me." Jennifer pushed Lucy into the room and closed the door behind them. "The hospital is surrounded," Lucy said. "You'll never get out of here." "I don't need to get out. I just need about twenty minutes with you." Mirabel stood, smoothing her designer skirt. "Jennifer, secure her to the chair." Lucy fought, but Jennifer was stronger and trained. Within seconds, Lucy's wrists were zip-tied to the metal arms of a second folding chair. Her ankles bound to the legs.

And most importantly, what did they want with us? "I hope you can swim," the one at my back whose dark mask had red stitching on one cheek said. "Are we going for a swim?" My blonde friend asked. The other one chuckled, "Something like that." With a grimace, red stitching bent and pushed open a hole in the ground covered by a metal lid. The smell that wafted up was rancid. I covered my nose and my eyes watered. "What's in there?" Trish asked in a small, unsure voice.

“That’s exactly how it should feel.” Zariah’s fingers traced along Imani’s hand, their fingers intertwining, teasing, pulling her closer. Malik’s thumb circled along her lower back, steady, confident, deliberate. The combination—the playful heat of Zariah, the grounding strength of Malik—made Imani feel like she was melting from the inside out.

Amelia was truly going to great lengths to secure his love. The guests, caught between surprise and envy, kept their eyes fixed on the dancing couple at the center of the floor. No one noticed the arrival of a man clad in a vivid purple suit and a clown mask. Suddenly, his figure leaped into everyone's sight, gracefully moving onto the dance floor and heading straight for the couple. The clown mask concealed his face, keeping his identity shrouded. Yet, his flawless build and striking presence were impossible to overlook, rivaling Lucas’ magnetism with ease.

My opened mouth said something different. “You look very sweet today,” I said without thinking about the impression those few words could create. She giggled, and turned her back towards me. She was perhaps shy to look at me in the face to respond to my remark. It could also be probable that she was cunningly showing me her backside. If the latter was true, a trap of some sort, then, I fell into it squarely. It was appetizing, provoking, and luring. My dangly bits nearly responded to the tune. But I didn’t want it to dance; it would be embarrassing, because I was not wearing tight underwear. Quickly, I turned to look at the far side of the cocoa farm, and rested my eyes there for awhile to s