Unsettling Stories

Doorbell - 2

"Pardon me, Ma'am," he said. "My car broke down and I was wondering if I could charge my phone in your house?"

"Sorry, I don't think so," Ellen said, starting to close the door.

The man shoved his foot inside. "Well, I do think so," he said.

Ellen stumbled and fell to the ground.

"Who the hell is that?" Douglas screamed.

"I'm a homicidal drifter. Who the hell are you?" the drifter said, confused. "Where's that voice coming from?"

"He's a killer hiding in my house," Ellen said, holding up the phone. "Douglas."

"Hiding? Where?" the drifter asked, looking around nervously.

"He's in the closet," the ghost boy said.

"What in the shit is that?" the drifter screamed.

"I'm a ghost. I used to live here like a hundred years ago. Oh, and let me guess, you don't want to play with me."

"Hell, no, I don't want to play with you. What's going on in here?"

"What's going on is no one will play with me!"

"For Christ's sake, no one's flying a kite at night," Douglas shouted. "Give it up!"

The ghost boy began to cry.

"Now you made him cry, Douglas," Ellen chided.

"Sorry if I'm a little on edge because you let a killer into the house," Douglas said.

"First of all, I didn't let him in, he busted in," Ellen said.

"It's true, I did," the drifter said.

"Second of all, you're also a killer, Douglas."

"Touché," the drifter said.

"And third of all, don't say sorry to me, say sorry to the dead kid."

"O.K., O.K. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you," Douglas said.

The ghost boy smiled. Everyone seemed to calm down a bit, until the doorbell rang again. Ellen walked toward the door.

"DON'T!" the three others shouted.

She opened it and peered outside. There was no one there, just a large wooden box on the front step.

"There's a box out here," Ellen said. "There's no label or anything,"

"I have a bad feeling about this box," the drifter said.

"I hate this box," the ghost boy said.

Ellen ignored them and carried it inside. She turned to the drifter. "May I?" He wiped his machete on his pants and handed it to her. She popped open the top, reached in, and pulled out a tattered clown doll with a sinister grin.

"What is it? What is it?" Douglas yelled, through the phone.

"Some sort of clown doll," Ellen said.

"I don't want to play with a clown doll," the ghost boy said, beginning to cry.

"Why don't we just put this thing back in the box before it gives us all nightmares, O.K.?" the drifter said.

"Look, there's a string," Ellen said, pulling it before anyone could object. The clown began to wheeze, its eyes shifted from side to side, and an eerily cheerful song emanated from its open mouth.

Welcome to my circus,

My circus of fun.

There's nowhere to hide.

There's nowhere to run.

You're all my guests inside the Big Top.

I'm going to kill you all, basically.

The clown let out a terrible cackle.

"Really psyched you pulled the string, Ellen," Douglas said. "I mean, come on!"

"What does the clown mean?" the ghost boy asked.

"I think he was pretty clear," the drifter said, wringing his hands. "He's going to kill us all . . . basically."

"How's a doll going to kill us?" Ellen asked.

Each of them silently surveyed the room in anticipation. Suddenly, the lights went out.

"What happened? Who did that?" the ghost boy screamed.

"I can't see anything!" the drifter said, "I literally can't see anything because it's too dark now!"

Through the darkness, Ellen let out a cry, "Oh no!"

"Ellen?" Douglas screamed, "What is it?"

"It's the clown! It killed her," said the drifter, his voice shaking. "And we're next!"

"He killed Ellen!" the ghost boy sobbed.

Seconds later, the lights flashed back on. Ellen's hands were raised to her face.

"My stupid contact lens slid out of place," she said, spreading her eyelids apart, and poking at her pupil. "So annoying."

"Oh, please don't do that," the drifter said, squirming.

"What's she doing?" Douglas asked, with dread.

"Touching her actual eyeball with her actual finger," the ghost boy said, wincing.

"It's a real slippery one," Ellen said, maneuvering deeper into her eye. "Can't get a grip on it."

Douglas gagged. "Oh my god, that's so vile."

The drifter raised his fist to his mouth with a grimace, as Ellen pressed her thumb against her wet, quivering eyeball for leverage.

"Ugh, now I think it's folded up under my lid," said Ellen, stretching her lid out. "Can someone look and tell me if they can see it?"

There was a click from the phone.

"Douglas? Was that a real click?"

The ghost boy faded into the wall, saying, "I'm out."

"Ghost boy?"

She heard the front door opening behind her. "Drifter? You, too?"

The drifter turned to her with a dazed look, "I hate this place so much," he said, then dropped the machete from his limp hand and walked into the darkness.

~ Colin Nissan