She pulled the tag off the doorknob, went downstairs, and watched TV. She glanced at the clock or a window every five minutes. When it was well and truly dark outside she went upstairs. Before she opened her door, she paused. Something didn't feel right.
She ran back downstairs to watch TV. She didn't stop until she felt like she would collapse from exhaustion. Forgetting the warning she stumbled upstairs to her room.
Again she stopped at the doorway. Something felt wrong. She considered sleeping on the couch.
No way. She opened the door and crawled into her bed. She closed her eyes. All without looking at the clown figurine.
She heard a sound in her room and she bolted awake. Without meaning to, she looked at the clown.
It's face was no longer in a creepy grin. Instead it was making a face that she couldn't help but laugh at. In fact she couldn't stop laughing.
Her eyes teared up and she felt short of breath. The clown figurine hopped off the shelf and started to walk towards her, the creepy grin pasted on it's face.
She had fallen into it's trap.
(It occurs to me now that I left out the most important scary thing in the story. I have fixed this in the first chapter. If you don't want to read the first chapter again I'll cut to the chase. The clown figurine is (was) holding up two fingers.)
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Blame The Clown (Holiday Special Upload)
HorrorSo it's Christmas. Again. And I'm bored at a holiday party, so I scared a drunk British lady into peeing herself with these stories. FYI, they suck, and are not scary. So enjoy this not scary read.
