The Clown

The year was 1997. It was a dark and stormy night, three days before Halloween. Jane was fresh into high school and had a babysitting job with the Smith family. She arrived exactly on time at 7:30 sharp (she had a reputation to keep). Jane rang the doorbell, waiting patiently. Mrs. Smith opened the door for her, welcoming Jane inside. The house was large and vintage. Jane walks in, removes her shoes, and sets her book bag and coat on the rack. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Mrs. Smith sighs as she sees her eldest son (He was 5 and a half years old) running around the house.

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“It’s really no problem! Your sons are always fun to babysit.” Jane picks up the youngest of the two, a three-year-old boy. The boy holds Jane’s neck for support, “I’m presuming the same bedtime as usual?” Jane asks.

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“You really are the best, Jane! At the same time as usual. See you later.” Mrs. Smith and Mr. Smith leave for the evening, leaving Jane with the two children.

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“Ok. Time for bed.” Jane stated. She leads the two children up to bed, making sure they are comfortable before heading back downstairs. Mrs. Smith had left three things: a phone, her phone number, and a baby monitor to watch the children. Jane picks up the three items, starting to walk down the stairs to the game room in the basement. She looks at the photos on the walls, admiring the adorable pictures of the kids and family photos. Suddenly, a photo catches her off guard. A clown photo, with no children laughing with the clown. The clown stares directly forward with an off-setting grin. Jane shivers, “God, I hate clowns….” She mutters to herself, then continues down the flight of stairs until she’s in the game room.

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The game room is bright, with games, a large green couch, a large coffee table, and a huge TV. Jane flicks on the lights and freezes. “What in the world….” Jane mumbles. A large clown statue stands in the back corner. Its smile is too wide and oddly life-like. A shiver goes down Jane’s spine. “It has to be fake…” she mutters, almost to convince herself. Suddenly, the baby monitor goes off and a child’s cry comes through. Jane leaves the phone and number, racing upstairs to check on the children.

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After a bit of time, the children fall back asleep, and Jane comes back downstairs. She had left the lights on, and this time was prepared to see the statue. She ignores it and walks over to the coffee table to find the phone missing. Jane looks around before finally giving up, remembering there’s still the landline upstairs. She finds an old cloth covering the statue. Again, the baby monitor carries the sounds of the children crying. Jane heads back upstairs to check on them. This time, she’s a bit more concerned about why the kids won’t sleep.

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Jane finally gets the kids back asleep. Less nervous, she heads downstairs, knowing the statue is covered. She rounds the corner and jumps back, screaming. The clown is in the same spot, but the cloth is missing. “No… You’re not real?!” Jane screams and covers her face. She enters the room, planning to grab the number and leave, but it is gone. Jane doesn’t search; the baby monitor goes off again. She races upstairs, checks on the children, and gets them asleep again before slowly returning to the basement.

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“Just grab the monitor and go upstairs….” Jane whispers to herself.Her steps feel heavy as she can feel every creak on the stairs. The phone upstairs rings and Jane screams, covering her head. “Just the phone…. You’re ok, Jane.” She tells herself, then proceeds to go upstairs and answer the phone. “Hello?” Jane asks, scared out of her mind. Relief floods through her as she hears Mrs. Smith’s voice.

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“Ah! Jane, love, how are the children doing?” Mrs. Smith sounds happy and carefree.

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“They’re doing well….” Jane’s voice is strained, “Do you perhaps have extra Halloween decorations in the basement?” Jane pauses, “Maybe a clown statue?”

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Mrs. Smith pauses, almost confused, “Um… No love, we put them all out.”

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Jane has a sudden realization, “Well! Enjoy the rest of your evening!” Jane hangs up and looks towards the basement. The place that seemed so cool suddenly fills her with fear. “I need to get the kids out.” Jane races upstairs and grabs the children. The baby is crying as Jane talks to the eldest son, “Get out and go straight next door, ok?!” The child nods and they start bounding down the stairs towards the door, Jane follows in suit. Her senses heightened, she can feel the vibrations on the steps, and she can feel the suddenly ice-cold air. As the children run out, Jane slows down to look at the basement, realizing the door is wide open. “He… got out….” She mutters, goose bumps covering her body.

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She looks around the kitchen and grabs a rolling pin, holding it close to her chest. “Where are you!?” Jane yells out to nothing. Laughter comes from the living room. Jane walks carefully across the wooden floors using a back route into the living room. As she walks in, a voice comes from behind her, “Hi there….” Jane turns on her heel to find no one.

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Two cold, large hands grab her shoulders from behind. Jane screams in fear. His hands are holding hard enough to leave bruises. He starts dragging Jane across the room, heading towards the basement. Jane kicks and screams, trying to escape. It’s no use. His fingers seemed to melt around Jane’s wrist, fusing into a single, unyielding band of steel. He swings open the basement door and throws her down. Jane lets out a gasp for air, feeling a vacuum where a breath should be. The clown slams the basement door shut, and a void of darkness fills the basement.

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No one knew what happened to Jane; some say she ran away. The rumor at the local high school is that she went insane. The police found no evidence of anyone being in the Smith’s household that day. No call records between Mrs. Smith and Jane, no fingerprints or signs of struggle. The children were too young to report what actually happened that night. Who knows where the clown will strike next?