many Chronoan Clown stories are more non-specific in their tellings; this one comes to us enveloped in the

salt airs of Oraea’s most northern island, Umaean, and from just outside the market-port of Noq la Far

Knock Knock in Noq la Far

This hume hears a knock on their front door. 

Since they're just at home, doing their own thing, due to this or that they delay in answering. When they finally do, there's no one standing at the door.

But on a bench the hume had carved from driftwood and set a few steps away from their front door, sat a Chronoan Clown. 

"Was that you knocking?" asked the hume.

"Yes," said the Clown.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to ask if I come in."

The hume looks around; cobalt clouds lour over Oraea's northern ocean, and the wind whips up in fits from the rocky coast and its sculptings of driftwood. Only heath, scrub, and brambly cover out here at the northern end of this island, and little help they were at that at times like these when the night comes on quick.

"Well, do you?" asked the hume?

"What?"
"Want to come in."
"Not now, thanks. Lovely storm."

So the hume shuts their door, and goes back to their whatever it was - 

Until they hear another knocking knock knocking.

This time they're faster to answer! But they still find the Clown there on the bench, sitting and gazing out at the brewing storm.

Violet lightning flashes over the waves.

"You knocked?"
"Yes."
"Because you wanted to ask if you could come in."

"Yes.”

"Because you wanted to come in then.”

"Yes."

"But now you don't want to come in."

"Yes."

The hume stares at the Clown. The Clown keeps on gazing out at the roughening ocean.

This time when the hume goes back inside, they linger right behind the door, ready to throw it open as soon as a sound comes.

The hume hears the knock knock kn-

Flings open the door - 

To again, as ever, find the Clown sitting on the bench. Thunder drumbles.

"If you want to come in then come in!" shouts the hume.

"There's a difference between permission and an invitation."

"I invite you!" Rain hits the coast, fat drops exploding in small asteroidal splashes. 

"Come in, before the storm gets worse and we're both soaked!"

"There's a difference between duty and desire."

The hume lets out a helpless howl of exasperation before slamming the door with a sharp "suit yourself!"

The hume shakes off some rain and stokes the peat fire. Their stare slips into its cracklings, the warmth hazing harried thoughts as the hume hears a light whistle from the kettle beginning to boil, the flat splat tip-tap-taps of fatter raindrops pattering and spattering on the windowpanes - 

And another unmistakable knock knock knock . . .