Clowns in my Closet
Published by Brandon Woodhead at Smashwords
Scared and alone, I couldn't stop the shiver of icy cold fear from running down my spine. The horrifying realization that the 12th hour was fast in approaching, had me quivering under my blankets. I wasn't afraid of the dark, it was the mysterious ghoulies that mischievously made a menace of themselves night after night that had the goosebumps spread, like a rask, all over my small, pale, helpless body.
I was extremely anxious for the usual poltergeist activity to start so it would finish. The waiting tore at me with feverish changes of heat and chills wrecking my body. Part of the vast mystery of my new home was the reason these ephemeral visits were happening at all and why to me? Why, why, why? What had I done to deserve this? I had not slept in weeks.
A cold limb touched my cheeks and a startled cry rose from my throat. However it was only the wet little nose of Casper, my harmless, cuddly cat. I quickly scooped his furry body under the flimsy protection of my blankets. Finding comfort in the animal's warmth and heartbeat I had almost convinced myself that nothing creepy was going to happen tonigh. Then, it began. It started with the strange noises from the closet, shuffling, scratching, soft shrieking. The laughter came next. High-pitched, hellish, cackling ending with a strang chilling “A-hoo-hoo-hoo, we're going to get you!” followed by more laughter. Evil clowns hiding between my clothes.