Please play the video on the side to add to the effect (: trust me, its pretty quiet so shouldnt be alarming. Happy reading
“Come; take a seat next to the fireplace where it may warm your little toes! I’ll tell you a story, I’m sure it won’t scare you too bad,” A low chuckle escapes the lips of the tiny old man. His hair was thinning on the back of his head and you see his eyes are a deep brown and the skin around them a saggy yellow.
“What the hell am I doing here?” You hear yourself ask the friend who dragged you into this part of the tour. Your trip to England was supposed to be one of finding a hot British lover and never coming across scary old men.
“Darling, come sit by me, I’ll keep ya safe from anything out there to get ya!” He chuckles again and his whole body shakes with laughter.
At first you want to question whether he is talking to you or your friend; her blond hair should have stuck out in the light of the fire. But to your dismay, he gestures to you; long, saggy skin hanging off the small bones in his hand as he waves you over.
Taking a final glance back to your friend, you walk over and sit on the bricks next to the fireplace. Not following the scary man’s directions wasn’t on the top of your “to do” list, but getting on the scary-story-tellin’-mans’ bad side wasn’t anywhere near the top either.
Leaning against the wall for back support, you notice the huge circle of wing-back chairs that start at the fireplace with only a small gap for you to enter the circle. Blond hair flashes in the dim light in a skinny red chair, only 5 seats away from you.
Not all the chairs are filled and you can only wonder why he chose you to sit by him on the fireplace. You’re nothing out of the ordinary; content with the thought that none of us get a how-to-guide, were all just kinda winging it; life.
“Eh-hem” The man clears his throat to get the attention of those around you. If an old man can smirk, that’s just what he does when he sees we all immediately quiet down. Somehow the seats have all filled; they’re all tourists looking for some excitement on this beautiful trip to England. A ahem rather large American couple with their terrified looking little 12 year old, a cute old couple holding hands across the chairs, a man with scowling eyes and his wife with her arms tucked into her chest.“Let us start off with your names.”
“Amelia.” Starts the woman with her arms crossed. “Roger,” her husband mutters, clearly still in a bad mood.
In the seat to their left sits the husband to the cute old couple who then volenteers his wife and his name with a loud cheery voice. “I’m Jack and this is,” Considering how cute of a couple this is, you immediately imagine her name to be Jill, “Isabelle.” Damn. She cheekily waves hello back and you can almost see the dark room grow brighter with their happiness.
As your eyes travel to the next seat, you find your friend seated in it and you hear her only quietly mutter her name to the circle. The American tourist motion to themselves with chubby fingers, “I’m Harold, this is my wife Felicia,” Another fat drags slowly to his obvious wife and you begin to actually want to start this horror story. “Then Miley over there is my daughter”
Thunder growls outside of the house and a large gust of wind forces all the cold rain in to the side of the house. Suddenly, this house seems almost comforting to you as the sensation to sleep begins to make your eyes heavy. The heat of the fire against your back, the dim lighting, and wonderful company. You know, other than the creepy man to your right… but he can’t be so bad.
The fire behind you crackles and pops as the burning wood snaps from the heat. Pressing up against the warm bricks, your jacket catches on the concrete but you ignore it for the sake of keeping the comfort.
“Let’s start, shall we?” The other guests in the room are also beginning to relax into their seats. Then again, who wouldn’t? The storm only grows stronger outside the warm room.
The gray man who seems far along in his years finally begins to tell the story. Before, his voice was the only noise in the room; you now become acutely aware of the loud ticking of a grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room. The light was scarce but the outline of hundreds of carved, terrified faces dance in the fire light. Quickly, your eyes search each face; maybe out of curiosity, maybe in hopes of no recognition. One in particular catches your bright eyes; what appears to be a gaping mouth, a long nose, and empty eye sockets. They are dark from the shadows of the fire.
Cracking like the fire, the story tellers’ voice fills the room, making the constant ticks of the clock only back ground noise.
“Tent flaps, long and strong dangle high above you. Red and white stripes flap in the wind. You’re sitting in a hard stadium seat, wiggling your bum around in the hopes of making it any more comfortable…”
And you are. It’s like a dream; not wanting to wake up for the fear of ruining the wonderful illusion. Vibrant colors blur as you whip your head to take in the full picture. Little kids with balloons practically scream with excitement as the run past you. The smell of popcorn is overwhelming; the sweet combination of honey-like butter and tart salt. Then a large, clear area for the animals and tricks… You are at the Circus.
A loud voice breaks over the intercom to announce the opening of the circus. Around you people plop down on their plastic seats with nervous excitement. You sit too, the growing sensation of excitement blossoms in the pit of your stomach. The lights dim from radiant yellow to pitch black inside the tent.
The excited chatter dies down in the dark to complete and utter silence. Time passes and the excitement dies and worries inch up when the lights don’t come on again. What could it be.. it's been too long. After what feels like twenty minutes, finally the darkness breaks with a single spotlight that dances around the floor of the circus tent. Your heart flutters in relief and you can't help but let a sigh escape your lips.
But there is something wrong; something missing.
Slowly, in realization, you rise out of your seats. Your eyes dart around, following the circle of light. The bright yellow flows between the stadium seats.
All empty.
The people, the boys and girls… where did they go? Immediately your mind tries to find reasons; excuses. They got scared of the darkness and left. Maybe they’re all just hiding on the floor. With that thought, more spotlights ignited the arena. They swirl in a never-ending cycle of yellow light across the seats. Never hitting the main center floor and always running over you and your group.There you stood; still in the dark, still scared… but not alone.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Comment/Vote please! More to come later!
If youre reading this, I plan to make some changes to this story and then upload it as another story. It will be VERY similar. I'll keep this one up for now and will let you know when theh other story is uploaded. If you have any questions, message me or post on my wall. Also, if you want me to message you when the story is posted, send me a message in my inbox so i know. Thanks so much!
YOU ARE READING
Faces On a Clock
Horror“Come; take a seat next to the fireplace where it may warm your little toes! I’ll tell you a story, I’m sure it won’t scare you too bad,” A low chuckle escapes the lips of the tiny old man. His hair was thinning on the back of his head and you see...
