Something Wicked This Way Comes

Part 1

Isabella Cunningham drew in a breath as she carefully walked up the polished marble steps in front of the large Beaufort mansion. She knocked on the mahogany doors. They opened, revealing a weathered, but authoritative face. The man was wearing a tuxedo, so Isabella assumed he was Francis Lewis, the man who had called up the centre for a babysitter. He asked her in a smooth voice,

"Is this Miss Cunningham?"

Isabella cleared her throat."Yes, that's me. I had an appointment."

"Please come in. We were expecting you."

As Isabella entered, she could not help but marvel at her surroundings – the long hallway with the high ceiling, the velvet drapes, and the portraits that lined the walls. The furniture gleamed a deep shade of brown – maybe it was rosewood, Isabella thought. But the sudden voice of Mrs. Lewis jerked her back to reality. She smiled at Isabella.

"Welcome, Isabella. Thank you for coming here at such a short notice-" 

"Oh, it was no problem, ma'am, I was free anyway, so..." Isabella let that comment hang.

"Yes. And we have to leave now. I'm sorry, Isabella – we might be late, so you can sleep in the guest room. It's next to the kids' room, down the hallway. If there's any problem, you can call us – there's a telephone in the hallway. Oh, and make sure that Joseph and Jonathan go to bed by seven."

______________

Isabella sat on the large bed, taking the chance to look around her room. After a lot of persuasion and the reading of two chapters of Oliver Twist, the twins were finally asleep, so she was free. The room was brilliantly decorated. The walls were wood-panelled. The fireplace had a cheerful fire going and the cast-iron fender in front of it was brightly polished to perfection. A bookshelf was mounted on the far wall, and opposite to it were floor–to–ceiling windows. A four–poster bed was against the wall opposite the fireplace. A Persian rug covered the floor and in the corner of the room was a statue of a clown.

The statue was absurd. It was made of rusted iron, and the clown had one eye sewn shut. He had blood on the side of his face, which had long sideburns. He was holding a chainsaw and grinning maniacally. The statue was unnerving to Isabella. What with all the regal décor, she had not expected the statue of the clown. It looked so out of place.

Two hours had passed. Isabella paced around the room, trying to calm her nerves. She had tried to sleep, but there was always the feeling that someone was watching her. The clown with the chainsaw, grinning maniacally, really scared her. She felt as though he was observing her, his eyes following her wherever she went. Finally, she decided to call up Mr. Lewis and ask him if she could change her room.

She went out into the hallway. The feeling of being watched grew impossibly stronger, until it suddenly disappeared. Isabella turned around, but there was no one. She picked up the receiver of the telephone, and dialled Mr. Lewis' number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Yes, Isabella, is there any problem?"

"Um, Mr. Lewis, I know this may sound absurd, but there's this clown statue in my room. You know, the one with a chainsaw? I – I have the feeling that it keeps watching me. You know, watching me sleep, walk around the room. It's unnerving. So, if possible, um, could I change my room?"

There was no reply from Mr. Lewis for a while. Then, suddenly, he began talking urgently and his normally smooth voice took on an uneasy and slightly panicked tone.

"Isabella, listen to me carefully and do exactly as I say. The clown statue is of iron and has an eye shut. Is this correct?"

"Yes, but how did you know this?"

"The kids have been complaining of a clown holding a chainsaw watching them sleep. Until now, I used to think that this was just a product of their overly active imagination, but now I'm convinced it's not. Our house was said to have been haunted by a clown, but I thought it was false. Now listen. Take the kids, right now, and go to the neighbours' house. From there, call the police. Now. Go!"

Isabella slammed the receiver down and rushed to her room to get her phone. But she noticed something.

The statue of the clown was missing from its pedestal.

Her heart beating so rapidly she could hear it in her ears, fearing the worst, she tore to the twins' room. But what she saw made her blood run cold. The bedsheets were ripped, and on it lay the spangled, battered bodies of the twins. It looked as if they had been attacked by a chainsaw in their sleep. Blood covered their faces, hands, the bed sheet, the floor, everywhere. There were chainsaw marks on the floor in blood. On the wall was a message painted in blood. It said, "Ha, ha, ha."

There were hand-prints on the wall and smears of blood everywhere. The twins were dead, Isabella knew it. Horrified, she let out a scream and collapsed on the ground. Then she saw something that made her heart stop.

The windows were wide open.

With a trail of blood leading out of it.

Maniacal laughter could be heard from a distance.

A shrill scream pierced the cold night air.

_____________________

So, this started out as a story for the softboard in our classroom.  

This was in October, and we had got the theme of Halloween. So, we decided that maybe I could write a horror story for it, since I'd written one or two before. My friend came up with the basic idea and plot (which was amazing), and I expanded it and added a lot of bits and pieces, and aspects, so that I could have something to work with.

After four hours of typing and deleting, scribbling and thinking, out came this story.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. I also hope you were a little scared(as is the aim of horror stories) if not scared to death.

So, as usual, I conclude by asking you to vote, comment, follow, add this story to your reading lists, and so on and so forth.

See ya!

~ T.J.