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- In your worst nightmares, Hell, Australia
- Seen Mar 2, 2017
The following is a random horror story I wrote for creative writing a while back. Tell me what you think. I wrote this in year 8.
The lights dimmed to a mere flicker before they died out completely leaving remains of melted wax as the only memoir of their existence. I faltered uneasily behind the pages of my novel then marked my page with a fold. It was too dark to read with the light of my last candles gone nevertheless I was weary. The book I placed upon my desk for another night as I languidly slipped under the sheets.
Sleep did not come easy to me as I toiled to rest my mind which continued to run on overdrive despite my body's exhaustion. Reflections of the day's events flooded my head alongside images of the days before. Of current affairs I thought the stories which were printed in the paper these last few days, and of the events of history, which dated many years back. I tried shutting my eyes for the solace I sought to no avail. For without emptying my mind sleep would not come and doing so often proved an ordeal. I attempted counting sheep to little success except the droning image of sheep after sheep jumping over a fence in single file.
I couldn't recall dosing off except for when I was stirred by a sharp thumping. I roused from my bed and after remembering that I was out of candles, fumbled through the darkness and to my front door where the sound was loudest. Why I even bothered to get up out of bed in the midst of night still remains a mystery to me yet why I didn't is still even more puzzling. I hastily unbolted the door in my vexation. Who in their right mind came knocking on people's doors at this time?
I peered outside and just stood there momentarily in uttermost disappointment. Nothing. Nothing but a cold wind which roused from me a slight shiver. Most likely my mind had been playing tricks on me. I slammed the door behind me, fuming. I had gotten up for that!
Then, for the second time, did I hear the sound again, just as I had started for my bedroom, and this time I was sure I had not dreamt it. In record speed I pried open the door and took in the surroundings. The moon was shining somewhere behind the large oaks and only the faint phosphorescence of the stars gave me light but it was impossible to miss the cause of all my troubles awaiting me at my doorstep. I nearly tripped over the thing as it was sprawled over the ground in front of my feet. My hands reached for it instinctively and to my relief it was just a child's toy which had been left abandoned at my door. Who had disposed of it I shall never know but keeping it I now know was the biggest mistake of my life.
The toy was made of porcelain, a miniature clown in a blue jumpsuit, which had me captivated upon first glance. Even in the dark I could make out its finely painted features and the beautifully adorned patterns it wore. After I had bolted my door for the third time that night I took the clown into my room where I placed it fervently onto my desk before sliding back into my bed.
Sleep came effortlessly to me after my little venture and almost instantly I felt myself being lulled into a well-earned slumber.
"It's a happy, happy day."
"It's a happy, happy day."
"It's a happy, happy day."
I awoke with these words resonating through me in time with some unknown rhythm emanating from close proximity. Whoever was repeating this phrase over and over was in the same room as me but when I looked around in the room now enshrouded by the brightening light of an imminent dawn I saw no one, only my little clown friend from last night. Ah! The clown. I remembered laying him down on my desk during the night yet somehow he had repositioned himself on my chair. At first I believed my eyes to be deceiving me but no, they couldn't have been. Unless I had moved the clown in my sleep, there was no way it could've ended up on my chair.
"It's a happy, happy day."
On and on I heard the voice, acute and menacing, which seemed to be resonating from the clown. At first I thought myself delusional but as the voice grew louder and the clown grew bigger I knew better. The toy had all of a sudden come to life and just the sight of it frightened me. Stupid, I thought, toys weren't alive. But from watching it I had gathered otherwise.
"It's a happy, happy day."
The same phrase was repeated over and over that morning to no end. It bothered me greatly that the noise should be coming from an inanimate object which was moving as if a puppet on strings, things like this just didn't normally happen. My experience with these things was really limited but nonetheless I knew I had to silence the clown hence I emptied a chest from the corner and shoved the advancing thing inside only to seal it to prevent any attempts at escape. To my misfortune the phrase it had incessantly repeated continued to echo throughout the room with only a change in volume, but no, it wasn't quieter, it was merely much louder.
Desperation had taken me over as my next move was loading the box into the boot of my car and driving it to the nearest cliff from which I could toss the cursed thing over.
Upon my return I was greeted at first by an assuring silence. Then by the words I had come so shortly to loathe: "It's a happy, happy, day."
I screamed at the top of my lungs to no avail, the menacing voice didn't even pause. My eyes scanned the room for the clown and there I found it, on top of my bookshelf ready to pounce. I grabbed the darned thing before it could make its next move and did the thing I should have done earlier. Using my free hand I used my lighter to set ablaze the wood lying on the hearth. Into the flames I thrust my little clown friend who I am glad to say I would never see again.
The flames spiraled up and swallowed the creature, burning its jumpsuit to ash and proceeding to rupture its face. I grabbed the poker from the mantle to assist in its destruction by using it not only to stoke the fire but to stab a hole through the porcelain face which had haunted me for the final time.
As aforementioned I never encountered the clown again for all these years after the incident with the only similar occurrence being that of when I took my niece to the circus. I steered clear of clowns from that point and still continue to do. Whatever had invoked the events of that one night still continues to remain unclear to me. It's all as murky as the river down the road but one day I hope to clear everything once and for all. Where the creature came from, who made it and why I found it await an answer. An answer I suspect will come with the years and I let it not bother me in the present as I continue to live each and every day in turn.