The Next Day
Creek… creek… I look over foolishly. It’s two in the morning and the lights are off. I snuggle back into my comforter which hugs me like a cub.
Squeak… My eyes open, but I do not move my head. I see a black shadow filling in where the bedroom door was. It gets closer and closer. The headlight of a nearby car flashes through my dirty window and I catch a glimpse of a clown. A clown with yellow fangs, a white face with red face paint, but there is no skin differentiation where the eyes are. This isn’t a costume, but a live clown. It reaches its bloody hands at my neck, then I wake up.
The clock reads 9:02 in the morning. I realize I’m late for school, but my parents didn’t wake me up. I don't have time for this, so I brush my teeth, wash my face, and throw on a hoodie while I sprint down the stairs. I grab my bag by the door and drive myself to school.
The day goes by slowly, as any day would when you have a math test during the last class of the day. I get through the test, and I wait for a solid half-hour at the carpool lot with no sign of my mom. I call her… no response. I take matters into my own hands and I drive myself home since my car is still here from the morning.
I try not to worry, but this is unlike her. I speed up, rushing to get home. Maybe she was tired? Or perhaps she had to work early.
Buzz. I check my phone and a pedestrian simultaneously crosses the road. I hurtle my dad’s Honda to the left and into a light post. I curse, check my mirror, and step out.
Long story short, my car is taken to a shop where I wait for hours because my parents don’t show up. My uncle Ubers to me, gets everything under control, and Ubers me back to my house. It’s 9 p.m. now. The driver drops me off three houses early, but it’s okay. I’ll just walk. On my way down the sidewalk, I notice two coffin-sized boxes in my yard. From a distance, I see a manly figure standing next to them under the yellow streetlight. I slowly approach him but stop about twenty yards away.
“Hello?” I call. No response. He motions me to come toward him, but I’m no fool. He places something on the ground and runs in the opposite direction. I walk toward my yard, skeptical of things and the area. My heart drops.
My mom’s phone is on the ground, next to a bloody machete where the figure stood. I rip open the boxes in shock. I tell myself that this cannot be. I peek into the first box. It is. My mom in the box, with no pulse, but a clown mask in the box adjacent to her head.
Bang! I turn and see the same figure step out as the front door slams. He must’ve ran around the back and gotten in. The clock strikes 9:30 and my porch lights turn on. Under the shady lights, I see the clown from my nightmare. He walks toward me. I run for the machete but it’s too late. Bop! Bop!
Squeak… My eyes open, but I do not move my head. I see a black shadow filling in where the bedroom door was. It gets closer and closer. The headlight of a nearby car flashes through my dirty window and I catch a glimpse of a clown. A clown with yellow fangs, a white face with red face paint, but there is no skin differentiation where the eyes are. This isn’t a costume, but a live clown. It reaches its bloody hands at my neck, then I wake up.
The clock reads 9:02 in the morning. I realize I’m late for school, but my parents didn’t wake me up. I don't have time for this, so I brush my teeth, wash my face, and throw on a hoodie while I sprint down the stairs. I grab my bag by the door and drive myself to school.
The day goes by slowly, as any day would when you have a math test during the last class of the day. I get through the test, and I wait for a solid half-hour at the carpool lot with no sign of my mom. I call her… no response. I take matters into my own hands and I drive myself home since my car is still here from the morning.
I try not to worry, but this is unlike her. I speed up, rushing to get home. Maybe she was tired? Or perhaps she had to work early.
Buzz. I check my phone and a pedestrian simultaneously crosses the road. I hurtle my dad’s Honda to the left and into a light post. I curse, check my mirror, and step out.
Long story short, my car is taken to a shop where I wait for hours because my parents don’t show up. My uncle Ubers to me, gets everything under control, and Ubers me back to my house. It’s 9 p.m. now. The driver drops me off three houses early, but it’s okay. I’ll just walk. On my way down the sidewalk, I notice two coffin-sized boxes in my yard. From a distance, I see a manly figure standing next to them under the yellow streetlight. I slowly approach him but stop about twenty yards away.
“Hello?” I call. No response. He motions me to come toward him, but I’m no fool. He places something on the ground and runs in the opposite direction. I walk toward my yard, skeptical of things and the area. My heart drops.
My mom’s phone is on the ground, next to a bloody machete where the figure stood. I rip open the boxes in shock. I tell myself that this cannot be. I peek into the first box. It is. My mom in the box, with no pulse, but a clown mask in the box adjacent to her head.
Bang! I turn and see the same figure step out as the front door slams. He must’ve ran around the back and gotten in. The clock strikes 9:30 and my porch lights turn on. Under the shady lights, I see the clown from my nightmare. He walks toward me. I run for the machete but it’s too late. Bop! Bop!