Tagged: Serial Saturday

Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 3, Finale

  1. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 1
  2. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 2
  3. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 3, Finale

 

 

On The Road Again: Part Three, Finale

 

PART 3.

 

I made my way through the hiking trail to get to Cabin 4. It was a nice trail, very dark but oddly lit in a way to make the perfect midnight hiking experience. I did not like the noise, however. The bugs sang like they were warning people of my presence. I wish I had the time to hunt every one of them down and squash them like they deserve, but I had to keep my mind on the prizes. Only one of the three young ladies was outside. She was raising her cell phone, scrambling. I could tell she was trying to find a signal. No luck here, little lady. She was very attractive, with blonde hair and a tight slim body—but still with a sizeable chest and butt. She was not dressed for the outdoors. She wore booty shorts, tank top, and what looked to be house slippers. She was almost screaming to her friends inside the cabin, complaining about not being able to connect her calls and that her phone was almost dying. “Is there one in the car?” I heard her yell to her friends as she made her way to their vehicle. “This is almost too easy,” I thought. I could pick them off one by one. The young woman fumbled in the car for a bit until she finished up and started to exit. I had a good size rock in my hand that I had picked up along the trail. I crashed it down on her head as if it came down from the sky. She fell to the ground as hard as the rock came down on her skull. She started to twitch and seize, so I struck her a few more times until that beautiful face was unrecognizable. What to do now? I only thought that for a few moments until I heard the cabin door open. I quickly ran behind the cabin. Just before the second girl noticed her disfigured friend lying dead, I swooped behind her, putting my hand on her mouth and knife against her ribs. I threw her up against the cabin and told her to be quiet. She tried to scream through my palm, so I buried my knife into her side and twisted with full force, releasing and stabbing multiple times until the shock kicked in and she had nothing left. I let her down slowly to the ground so as to not make too much noise and rested her dying head safely on the gravel ground. The final girl had no knowledge of what had happened to her dear friends. As I peeked through the window of their cabin, I noticed her alone, on the bed listening to an old CD player. I felt a wave of Déjà vu. I had not seen one of those types of CD players since my sister’s final breath. I would have taken hers, but it fell in the water during our little tussle. I used to listen to hers when she would leave it laying around. I remembered how the songs would skip if the disc was too scratched. I hadn’t thought about it until now, how music doesn’t skip any more. I liked the skipping. After hearing something repeatedly, I get bored. Something unexpected happening—the lyric not being said after anticipating it, or knowing the next line is coming but then it doesn’t—resonated with me. It was very comforting.

I made my way into the cabin. The final girl was distracted with her tunes, staring at the ceiling, unaware a stranger had entered her world. She must have felt a presence enter the cabin, but most likely assumed I was one of her friends just enjoying the weekend getaway like herself. I crept to the bed and still she yet to open her eyes. She wasn’t as pretty as her friends, but the way she blocked out the world and enjoyed her peace made me feel a fondness for her greater than anything I felt for her friends. She had not a care in the world. She was much older than me—as were all her friends. They were all in their mid-twenties, but still they had a young quality about them that made me think of them like children. She in particular had an innocence that I envied. Just like those bitches from my school, but I feel like this one would be nicer to me than they had ever been. Oh, how I wish I would run into some of my old high school classmates. Another time perhaps. 

The final girl’s hair was soft when I gently touched it. I wanted to run my hands through it, but I decided against it. She had yet to open her eyes. When I lifted one side of her headphones and whispered, “What are you listening to?” she jumped up and let out a low toned scream. I jumped on her, not hesitating, and attempted to hold her down. This one had some fight in her. She kicked and scratched at me, knocking me to the ground. She screamed for her friends as she tried to run out of the cabin. As she stepped over me, I grabbed her leg, trying to get her to the ground. It was tight quarters, so I had limited space to maneuver around and get to my feet. She kicked me square in the face and then I felt a hard smack to the head. It was a pan, or some other kitchen utensil, and it stunned me for a moment. I heard the cabin door finally open, and I got myself together. I got to my feet and, just as I exited the cabin in chase of her, I heard it—the horrid scream that would ruin the rest of my night. She stumbled across her friends and now she was letting my remaining yet-to-be victims know that this camp site was not safe. The night may be over early, but I could not let her get away.

Outside the cabin I saw her standing, hands on her mouth, screaming and crying at the gruesome sight of her closest friends. She noticed me approaching her, and she went to run, but in typical victim fashion, she tripped on her own feet. I pulled my knife and began to slash away at this woman who I had briefly admired. With every cut deeper than the next, she screamed louder and louder. I came down on her with everything I had on her chest and stomach, until her insides were what showed the most. I dug my hand into her open wounds and kept digging, reaching for something. My arm was submerged to my elbow and at that moment I realized I did not know for what I was reaching. It wasn’t until I heard the muffled yells from two men that I took my arm out of her. 

I had to think quick of what to do. Is it over? Am I content? NO! I see in the distance two older men hastily making their way down toward me. The husbands! I do not hesitate, and I do not overthink. Quickly I rub the fresh blood from my last victim over my leg. I notice my head is bleeding from where she struck me in the cabin. I could use this along with the blood I’ve accumulated throughout the night to appear as what I am, a survivor. I put my knife back in my boot and I approach the husbands. I put on my limp routine that I’ve used plenty before. I ready my voice to sound helpless. The men are close but not close enough. They know there is trouble, but do not know who has created it. We meet each other in the road, and I beg for help. “HELP ME, HELP ME PLEASE! SOMEONE IS AFTER ME AND KILLED MY FRIENDS!” One husband, the bigger of the two, throws one of my arms over his shoulders. My hero. The other runs past us a bit, inspecting the crime scene. “OH MY GOD!” he shouts, seeing the results of the slaughter. The bigger husband attends to me. “Who did this? Where are you hurt?” I bend down in fake pain. I grab my knife from my boot. “I did this!” I said just before I stabbed my would-be savior in his eye. The first hero fell back in agony, and in a quick motion I reveal my gun and kill the other with a headshot. I pointed my weapon at the remaining man, who was attempting to dislodge my knife from his eye socket and ended his life with a bullet through his temple. The remaining wives were easy. I shot one in the back for trying to run away from me. The other was too scared and distraught to attempt anything but compliance. I smashed in her head with a log from their firepit. I could’ve shot her and made it quick, but I wanted to save the remaining bullets for any surprises on my way towards the exit. There was none. 

This was my night. It went perfectly and I made it through with only one scratch. Mr. Johnson was the only one who was not fully dead. He crawled a few feet and made his way to his wife. I saw the blood trail was still fresh, so I put a bullet in him for peace of mind. The others were surely dead. This would be a crime scene to remember. The high from the night was already starting to fade, but the sureness of nonstop news cycles and public outcry would make me feel better. I could always look back on this night as something to cherish. A perfect scene, better than anything one of those hack writers could ever imagine. Who would play me if they made a movie? What would they call it? What would they call me? Should I leave a note behind, maybe put some dumb cheesy name that would live on in infamy? I almost want to find the nearest payphone and call my brother. I wonder what he is doing right now. He has no idea what I’ve just accomplished. My first massacre. “The Glamping Massacre.” That’s what the movie should be called. It would be an instant classic. 

I decided I should take the Johnsons’ car just a few miles and ditch it. It would help me get plenty far away before the bodies were discovered. I grabbed my bag and some snacks from the office, changed my clothes, and threw my bloody ones in the Johnsons’ fire pit and reignited the dead fire. I should have checked the other cars for some supplies for the road, but best not be too greedy. I’m a bona fide cold-blooded murderer, and I pride myself in that—not so much a thief except for the occasional necessity grab. I popped the trunk of the Johnsons’ car and to my horror, there he was. He was there all along—the missing Johnson boy. He was tied up in his parent’s trunk with a plastic bag wrapped around his head. He had been dead for some time—over twenty-four hours from the looks of him. What did he do? What was the trouble he had gotten into in school? What kind of punishment was this? He must’ve done something awful that his own parents would murder him. They most likely planned on burying him out here, or were they just going to ride around forever with their son in the trunk? These people were really twisted. How could you sit there making smores while your own flesh and blood rotted just a few feet away from you? I’ve said it a million times and I’ll say it again. This is a strange world with stranger people. Poor kid. Did he deserve this? Maybe they just wanted to be free. I couldn’t take this car anymore. In no way shape or form would I ever let a body count be added to mine that I did not deserve. This is the Johnsons’ victim, and I will not be credited. I closed the trunk and grabbed my things from the car. I walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and soaked their blood in a rag I found on the ground. I wiped on the trunk a clear note for the crime scene investigators. 

“THIS WAS NOT ME. THIS WAS THE JOHNSONS” 

On the road again, I walked. I cut through some woods and some small towns to make my route difficult to trace. I stopped at a rest stop and dyed my hair again. I went from blonde to black and cut it down to my shoulders. The scratch on my head was healing pretty good. A couple more days and it would be as good as new. Any day now the news will break, and I cannot wait. “Multiple casualties at the local campsite.” BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS! I will be riding high on a euphoria that no drug could ever give me, and just in time for my seventeenth birthday. Seventeen will be a great year. As I stick my hand out and walk down this highway, I make a bet with myself on who will stop. Maybe they’ve already heard something. Maybe we will be riding down the highway together and the news will break over the radio. I need to practice hiding my excitement. It’s going to be almost impossible. I hear the air brakes from behind me, and I turn around to see a big rig coming to a slow stop. Here we go again. The truck stops and an older man lifts his head to meet me in the eyes. He asks what they always ask.

“Where you headed, pretty lady?” 

I put on my best fake smile.

 

Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 2

  1. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 1
  2. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 2
  3. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 3, Finale

 

 

On The Road Again: Part Two

 

The sign read . . .“Welcome to The Cabin Getaway. Camping has never been more Glamorous!” It was an Airbnb mixed with the idea of camping. The site was comprised of a small circle of tiny cabins that were more like tiny homes. They even had a sketched map of the place on the sign near the entrance. There were five small trailers accessible by a gravel road. The one lane road led to each home and looped all the way around back to the entrance, which was also the exit. There was one way in and one way out. At the entrance was a small office trailer. It appeared to be where the tenants checked in and out. That would be my first stop at dusk. The thoughts were nonstop in my head. “How could I do this?” “Should I make a plan or just wing it?” “Knife or gun?” I could just use what was readily available. I should wait to use the gun until I absolutely need it. I haven’t needed it since I found it. I picked it up off one of my famous truckers. It was a black 9mm honor-guard. I also found a full box of bullets. It has some bang to it, but the kick back isn’t too bad. Best not to use unless necessary, perhaps maybe for my final victim. There was no need to alarm the entire campsite before the fun really got started. 

The sun starts to set, so I make my way to the office. There was only one person at the front desk. This will be a piece of cake. I don’t want to get too cocky just yet, so it’s best I make sure he is the only one around. The door was open, so I invited myself in for a chat with the man sitting at the desk. 

“Excuse me sir, is there a manager I could speak to? I’m having trouble with the Wi-Fi.”

The man looked confused for a second. There are not that many cabins, and I assume he meets with everybody that checks in. He didn’t recognize me and was unsure which party I was with. 

“Umm…what cabin are you in?” he asks as he checks the computer. “The Wi-Fi is up, so I’m not sure why you wouldn’t be getting a connection.” Still looking at the computer, he clicks the mouse a few of times before he focuses his attention back to me. “Are you sure you’re connecting to the right userna…” The sight of my gun now pointing at him threw off his speech. I asked him again, “Is there a manager I could speak too, sir?” He shivered at the presence of a gun. So many thoughts probably flooded his head. Who is this? What do they want?  He most likely begged me for his life in his own head before he could ever get the words out. Please don’t hurt me, take what you want! But those thoughts never translate to words when regular people are thrust upon with real violence and threats. He finally spit out some words riddled with stutters. 

“Please, I, I’m the only one working. We don’t have any money. It’s . . . It’s all done online. Please.”

This was fun and all, but I had no time for this. Once the piss became visible in his jeans, I told him to turn around and take off his belt. I instructed him then to get on his knees and close his eyes. He complied. I placed the gun on the desk and tied his hands with his own belt. I saw a meat cleaver in a butcher’s shop about a month ago, and I just had to take it. I knew someday the perfect time would present itself to use it. Today was the day. I grabbed the cleaver from my bag and went at his neck until I freed his head from his body. He had soiled himself, so I dragged his body into a closet that was filled with toiletries and snacks. I propped his head on the desk for my own personal amusement. I helped myself to a bag of cheese puffs as I scrolled through the computer files, checking on my new guest. This system had it all—the detailed layout, trails to and from, even a complete guest list of who was staying in each cabin. To my disappointment, only three out of the five were occupied. How could there be vacancies on the night of my arrival? Were they not expecting me? How could they do this to me? Very well. I will make do with what little opportunity I have. 

Cabin 1- The Johnsons. Husband, wife, and child. Ages aren’t shown in the registry, so I will have to determine that upon visual. Maybe I can circle back to them on my way out. They are the closest to the exit, so maybe that’s not a good idea. I’m expecting some screams so best not make it too easy for escape. 

Cabin 4- Cindy Pental along with two female guests. This one could be fun. Three friends camping together, who knows what kind of debauchery they are up to. They could be drinking heavily and consuming drugs together. I find it odd that they have their sexes identified in the system. Anybody could be looking at this thing, so why would you make it known three girls are alone in a cabin out here? Strange world. 

Cabin 5- Louie and Lucy Lockwood along with Brad and Stacey Vine. Two married couples. This could be my toughest one yet. The husbands could be a problem. Maybe they are swingers, then I could surprise them all while they are in the middle of full-on orgasmic group sex. What are the odds they are a boring pair of couples out here for some regular glamping?

I’ve made up my mind. First, I’ll hit the Johnsons. I’ll take care of the couple and the child first. The office attendant had no car in the parking spot, so I can use theirs to block the exit so no one else has an easy escape with a vehicle. Then I will take care of the three damsels, in soon enough, distress. I will have to be sneaky with that group to limit the number of screams. I will save the toughest for last. If all else fails, I can always use my trusty firearm to end the husbands and polish off the widows. I don’t ever cover my face when I do my deed. I’ve never once left a witness to any of my doings. Why start now? In a situation like this, a mask or paint of some sort is useful. It gives off a certain spookiness to my victims—makes the scares even scarier. All my big screen heroes have them, but there are no viewers here, so who am I trying to impress? Plus, I may have to blend in and make myself look like a camp goer. Nobody in their right mind would trust some stranger wearing a hockey mask asking for directions. 

I disabled the internet and checked the office attendant’s phone to see if he still had service. He didn’t. That’s great. Assuming he lived nearby and still had horrible service in these parts, then the tourists wouldn’t either. I stashed my bag in the office for safekeeping. I tucked my gun in my waistband and my knife in my boot and made my way through the trees to Cabin 1. I thought about casing every cabin out before I made my move on the family, but I spent too much time planning in my head already, I just wanted to get started. I couldn’t wait any longer. The excitement was too much to bear. As I crept on the first cabin, I felt as if I needed to pee. I was almost shivering in this hot humid night from wanting this so bad. The Johnsons were sitting at the campfire outside their cabin. The orange and red flames lit the front of their faces as they sat with marshmallows at the ends of their sticks. They were an older couple, maybe in their 40s. As I sat in the darkness, I got lost for a second in their conversation. They were worried about their son who was having trouble at school. They didn’t know how to deal with it anymore. They talked as if they had given up. The mother started crying a bit and then I snapped out of it. Where was this child? What was wrong with him? What kind of parents would give up on their son? I snapped a branch, knowing it would get the father’s attention. It did. He shot up, not out of worry, but weirdly excited. “Did you hear that?” he said to his wife. “Could be some wildlife.” 

The wife grew worried a bit. “Should we get inside?” she whispered to Mr. Johnson.

“No, nothing too dangerous out here,” Mr. Johnson responded sarcastically to his wife as he approached the tree line to where I was hiding. As the husband walked closer to where I crouched, he turned to his wife and told her to get his flashlight on the picnic table closer to their cabin. She reluctantly went for the light as her husband now stood mere inches away from me. I pounced from the shadows of the forest and stabbed him in the throat with three of the fastest jabs I’ve ever taken. I felt an intense quake run through my body starting from my knees. I couldn’t stop there. With the same murderous angst, I rushed toward Mrs. Johnson, who had yet to turn around to witness the brutality that awaited her. I grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her head back to expose the bare and vulnerable neck. I slit her throat from ear to ear with a clean cut from the sharp edge of my trusted blade. Neither of them made more than a slight moan from my quick and precise attack. Now, where is the kid? I peeked through the window of the cabin and to my surprise it was empty. You can view the entire cabin and bunks through the main window. No one else was with them and their luggage looked to be packed for just two. This was confusing, but I assume they needed a little separation from the troubled child, deciding to leave him behind. I took their keys and moved the Johnsons family vehicle to block the road. No one will leave this camp alive but me. 

 

Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 1

  1. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 1
  2. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 2
  3. Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 3, Finale

 

 

On The Road Again: Part One

 

Lucky me, what have I stumbled across? Welcome to the cabin getaway…The rustic sign with thick black letters may have well read “violence is welcomed!” Secluded, contained, and such a classic setting. A great opportunity awaits me, and the timing is perfect. It has been a long and tiresome trek across these hot Tennessee mountains. I had only a few fun experiences on my journey through this state. A couple of well-meaning citizens offered me rides from here and there. Of course, traveling on those sketchy highways, you are bound to run into some not so God-fearing types. I received a couple of solicitations to perform fellatio on some tough-knuckled truck drivers. Those, of course, are the main demographic willing to pick up a fresh-faced sixteen-year-old hitchhiker. They assume I am just another runaway trying to escape a troubled home situation. I play into the stereotype just long enough. They ask me about my life: where I’m going and where I’ve been. I act interested in what they do and where they are heading. I even pretend to be interested in their families. There is always a wife and kids waiting for them to get home from their long week on the road. This is how the conversation goes until that hint—the unbuckling of the seat belt and thrust of the hip to insinuate this ride isn’t free. If only their families knew of their depravities. 

Those types are my favorite. They honestly believe they are doing me a favor by helping some poor teenager escape an abusive father or overbearing mother. I always wish I told them the truth before they unzip their pants and close their eyes. “My parents are dead. I slit my mother’s throat, and bashed in my father’s head.” I never get the words out in time. Instead, just a quick stab to their jugular vein, and I rid this Earth of another scum. I grab my bag, and I am off on the road again. I tried to drive one of their trucks one time, but I didn’t make it too far. I didn’t know how to work the shift. 

A few genuine people pick me up. Those are the ones with whom I find it harder to deal. Putting on a nice face for nice people has always been something with which I’ve struggled. I keep my smile wide and conversation pleasant. I play with their kids in the back seat and try my hardest to suppress the urge to take their child’s head and bash it against the window, stab the mother in the passenger seat, and then strangle the father with his own seat belt until we all crash and die in a fiery blaze. 

For the most part, I let the innocent families along my journey remain alive. Their deaths will attract too much attention, and I’m looking for that perfect scene. It’s a constant search for a perfect night, like the plot of my favorite pictures—The Terrifier, Friday the 13th, and the classic The Strangers. I like to refer to myself as a SIN-efile. I love the bloody stuff. At a young age I realized it wasn’t real, and that upset me to no end. 

My interactions with the prey should have been the first red flag to my parents. We could never keep a pet for too long. After two cats, a dog, some fish, and a bird, we no longer had any pets in the house. My older sister and younger brother became very frightened by the time I decided to move on. It will be two years in a month since I was last home. My older sister was taking a bath when I ended my parent’s miserable lives. She had her headphones on, listening to a vintage CD player. She heard nothing and didn’t notice me standing over her watching her naked body, until it was too late. She was a lot weaker than I thought she would be, I was prepared for more of a struggle as I held her under the soapy water. I left my younger brother alive. He was not home when I committed my cleanse. There was no other reason I let him live. My urge trumped my preparedness. I emptied the family safe of cash, packed what I needed, and hit the road. I kept up with the articles and news reports on my family’s demise until I needed to rid myself of smart phones. The last I checked, they never actually listed me as a suspect. I was just reported as missing. I’m sure they wised up by now. I suppose I’m no longer placed on the milk cartons, but now on the wanted posters. Good luck to them. Along my travels, I’ve cut and dyed my hair more than a few times. I also broke my nose once or twice along with the burning of my fingertips on a cast iron skillet I found in a couple’s unlocked car. I try not to stay in the same area for more than two days. I stay long enough to get my fix, rest, and then I am on the road again. They probably want to know why I did it, but I don’t have an interesting reason. Maybe, I just wanted to be free.

It’s been a pretty boring couple of weeks. I haven’t had a victim in a while. Nothing excited me. I thought I had something good, about a month back, when I ran into another traveler at a truck stop. I kept thinking, “Maybe he’s just like me.” That would be intriguing—two serial killers facing off for survival of the fittest. Who will be the chosen one to carry on, to continue the devil’s business? Of course, he was just a wandering loser, running away for a fresh start. The conversation became boring, so I stabbed him in the chest ten times and stole his socks. He had great socks. City after city, ride after ride, the urge never came over me. Nothing gave me the desire or the thrill. That was until I came across this wonderful place. The cabin getaway, oh what awaits you.

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Seven, Finale

 

Chapter 13 

I run past Cam’s dead body and jump over Paige’s as I sprint out of the tunnels, trying to run as fast as I can. My heart pounds so loudly that I can’t even hear myself think, but I try to stay focused.

Behind me, I hear the clown running after me, laughing hysterically as he tracks me down. 

“Where are you going little kitty? There’s no way out! You’re gonna get punished when I catch you! Get back here!”

The clown laughs louder as his footsteps get closer and closer to me. I hyperventilate as I run, turning down tunnel by tunnel as I desperately try to find my way out. But this place is like a maze. An impossibly difficult maze. How the hell was I going to get out of here, if I didn’t know my way around the tunnels like the clown does?

Once I put some distance between me and the clown, I take a minute to catch my breath. Thankfully, it seems like I have a minute to think since I don’t hear the clown’s footsteps anymore. I must be quite a good distance ahead of him. 

Ok, focus Maddie. Think. What’s the best way out of here? This is your one chance to escape. Because if he catches you, he’ll torture you, or worse. Kill you. Come on, think! 

I try to calm down my breathing as I think of the best possible way out of here. Let’s see. I’ve been turning down every tunnel I see, hoping that they’ll lead me out of here. But so far that strategy hasn’t been working for me.      

Obviously. 

Come on, there has to be a way out of here! If there’s a way in, there’s gotta be a way out.

Suddenly, I gasp as a lightbulb seems to go off in my head. What if I kept going straight down a tunnel? If I do that, then it has to lead outside right? Not necessarily. It could lead me to a dead end. But…it was worth a shot anyways…right?

I clench my fists at my side, determination taking over me. There was no time for second guessing myself. I had to try this, even if it could possibly go wrong. Even if it didn’t guarantee me a way out. I jump as I hear the clown laugh maniacally again, and then, I sprint as fast as I can.  

Sweat pours from my forehead down into my shirt as I gasp for air. The tunnels are so hot and musty that it’s difficult to breathe, but I try to push forward, forcing myself to continue running even if I feel as though I’m about to pass out. I keep running and running, blindly going forward.

Suddenly, I see a dim light at the end of the tunnel that I take a break in. I pause for only a brief second before running again because I need to catch my breath. But, as I start running again, I feel something grab my shoulder and throw me down onto the ground hard. 

When my eyes adjust, I see that it’s him. The clown. He managed to catch up with me. But…how? I thought I’d ditched him a long time ago. He was way behind me. How…how did he catch up to me so fast?

“You’re such a bad kitty, I can’t believe I thought you were good! How dare you try to run away! Now…I have no choice but to kill you!” The clown screams in my face, pinning me down on the ground. 

I desperately try to wriggle out of his vice-like grip, but it seems impossible. He’s so strong that his brute strength is enough to kill me. I know I have to do something, and do it now. My mind begins to race wildly as I try to come up with a plan.

My heart pounds so loudly that I can barely hear myself think. As I wrestle with the clown, my eyes dart all around me as I try to find some form of a weapon that I could use to get away from him. But there’s literally nothing. 

“It’ll be ok, little kitty. I’ll make your death quick. You’ll be with your friends soon enough in Heaven.” 

My heart rate speeds up so fast that I begin to hyperventilate with fear. Without thinking, I splash some filthy sewer water into the clown’s face. He cries out in pain as it stings his eyes. Then, the clown falls backwards, and I kick him in his groin. He groans and screams in sheer agony, swearing a million different curse words as I get up and run. 

I sprint as fast as I possibly can, even though my legs feel as if they’re going to fall off, I don’t stop. The dim light is only about ten feet away from me now. 

It’s not much further now. I’m almost there. Run. Just run! I tell myself. 

Finally, I reach the very end of the tunnel. Once I’m outside, I’m immediately blinded by ultra-bright search lights. I cry out in terror and fall to my knees on the ground.  

“Hold your fire, it’s one of the kids! Do not shoot, I repeat! Do not shoot!”

I hear a booming voice screaming into a megaphone, and it takes me a while to realize that it’s a policeman. I don’t know why, but I put my trembling hands up in surrender as a group of police swarm me. They wrap a blanket around me and help me stand up. 

“Don’t worry, Maddie. You’re safe now. It’s over.”

I’m too exhausted to care how this police officer knows my name in this moment. I assume that me, Paige and Cam have been all over the news and have been declared “missing.” That’s probably how he knew who I was. But I couldn’t figure out one thing. How did the police know we were here? How did they find us? Honestly, I didn’t care. I’m just so happy to see them that I begin crying because of happiness and relief. 

What happens next is a complete blur. As soon as I’m put into an ambulance that was waiting for me, I begin to feel extremely light-headed and my ears start to ring loudly. I feel the color drain from my face and I pass out . 

 

Chapter 14 

While I’m asleep, I have horrible nightmares. I dream that the clown is still torturing us, tasing us over and over again until bruise marks appear on our bodies. I’m forced to watch the clown shoot Cameron again; forced to watch him die. I’m forced to watch Paige die as well. Then, I’m forced to dance with the clown again, but this time, while I’m dancing with him, the clown holds onto me so tightly that I’m unable to escape. He throws me back into the makeshift prison cell before I can even attempt to make a break for it.

And then, I wake up. 

I sit bolt upright, throwing the covers off of me; my hospital gown completely drenched in sweat.

“CAM! PAIGE! NO!” I scream, terrified. 

“Maddie, Maddie, Maddie wake up! You’re ok, you’re safe now! Everything’s ok!”

A familiar voice jolts me awake, snapping me out of the never-ending nightmare that seemed so real. I wipe my eyes, wiping away tears that stream down my face. I’m hyperventilating as I glance all around me, taking in my surroundings. My eyes finally lay on my mom, who sits next to me looking at me with worry. When I see her, I’m able to relax a little.

“It’s ok sweetie, just breathe. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now,” she says, gently stroking my hair. 

“M-mom?” I stammer.

“Hi sweetie. I-I’m so happy you’re awake. I was so so worried about you,” my mom says, her voice soft and kind. 

I clear my throat in an attempt to make it a little less raspy, “Mom…there-there’s something you should know…Cam and Paige are dead. The clown killed them,” I say, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. 

My mom instantly goes from being relieved to sad as her face falls. She looks at me with her eyes full of sadness, “I know, honey. The police found their bodies deeper in the tunnels. Their families have already been notified. I’m so sorry for the loss of your friends, but they’re in a better place now sweetie.”

I nod, but I can’t stop the tears from free-falling down my face, “I-I couldn’t save them mom. The clown was too strong, and I was locked in a cell the entire time he was killing them. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing.”

With that, I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as I think about my friends. I wail so loudly that I’m sure people can hear me but I don’t care at this point. My mom pulls me into a hug and she strokes my back as she tries to calm me down. But it’s no use. I feel my entire body rack with my intense sobs as I cry on my mom’s shoulder. 

A few minutes go by, and there’s a knock on my hospital room door. I jump, startled, but a couple of police officers enter. One of them holds a small notepad in her hands, along with a pencil. I stare at them, confused at what they’re doing in here. 

“Excuse us, but we were wondering if Maddie was able to answer a few questions for us. We understand she might not be ready to speak about what happened, but any information is crucial to catch whoever did this,” says the police chief, his expression stoic. 

My mom pulls me away from her gently then glares at the officers with pure hatred, “How dare you ask her to answer questions at a time like this! Get out, now!”

“Mom, please. It’s ok. I don’t mind,” I say, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

My mom looks at me with an appalled expression, “Are-are you sure, sweetie? You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

“It’s ok. I can give them a quick description, then they can leave,” I tell her. Then, I turn to face the officers, “The man who killed Cam and Paige was dressed up as a clown. He’s probably still back where he held us captive, deep within the tunnels. I’m sure you’ll find him there.”

The police chief raises an eyebrow, and his partner stares at me with a puzzled look on her face. 

I glance back and forth between the two of them, wondering why they were so confused. 

“What?” I ask.

The police chief clears his throat before speaking, as if he’s nervous about something, “Ma’am, we searched everywhere in the tunnels. We went as deep as we could investigate, but there’s absolutely no sign of anyone ever living there. We were able to find what looked like a makeshift home with some kind of jail cell in it, but no one was around. However, we’ll be on the lookout for a clown. Thank you for your time. Please, get some rest.”

I stare in complete disbelief at the police officers as they leave the room. My heart rate immediately skyrockets as I learn that they haven’t caught the man responsible for holding me hostage for three days, and killing my boyfriend and best friend. What the hell…what if…what if he never gets caught?

Upon hearing that news, I feel all the color drain from my face, and my palms become very cold and clammy. I feel extremely light headed, and I fall backwards onto my bed, passing out. The last thing I hear is my mom screaming out for a nurse. Nurses come rushing into my room and they immediately begin treating me. 

I spend about a week in the hospital. Turns out, I was down in the tunnels for about three days. I was starving, and I had been running solely on adrenaline the entire duration of my time spent down there. It takes the nurses quite a while to get my vitals back up to where they should be, and for my health to return relatively back to normal. But…after what I had to witness…after the severe trauma that I had to go through…I knew deep down that I’d never be normal. At least, completely normal. Ever again. 

    

Epilogue

He walks around aimlessly for what seems like hours. His legs are so tired that they feel like they’re about to fall off, and he’s exhausted. He fought as hard as he could to keep the little kitty that he cared the most about, but she had the upper hand in the end. She’d beaten him. 

He’d lost. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do now. The police were scouring the tunnels, tearing his home apart looking for him. He couldn’t go back there. At least, not yet. He was going to have to wait a while until the police were all gone. He knew that it could take a while, but he was prepared to wait. 

Willie scanned his surroundings slowly. As dusk fell, people began to leave the park that he had chosen for his resting place. There were several people going on runs, playing with their kids, walking their dogs. Most people were in groups; the clown knew better than to attack them. He kept waiting and waiting until it got darker outside. Pretty soon, the street lamps lit up the park, and only a couple of people remained. He knew his opportunity was coming up soon, and that he had to act fast. 

Once there was only one person left in the park, Willie got up from his picnic table and began slowly making his way over towards him. He stalked his victim, trying to not make any noise while his feet crunched on the leaves beneath him. His adrenaline was pumping. His anger was growing, coursing through his veins. 

That bitch! How dare she escape!

Willie was only a few feet away from the man now. He was talking loudly on his cell phone, something that was very annoying to Willie. He was telling someone that he’d be home soon, and that they shouldn’t worry. 

Willie smiled sinisterly to himself. 

You really shouldn’t have said that, buddy. 

Suddenly, Willie pounced on the unsuspecting man, tackling him to the ground. They landed with an incredibly loud THUD! The man’s cell phone fell to the ground and shattered.

“Hey get the hell off of me! What do you think you’re doing?!” The man screamed, trying to fight Willie off. 

But Willie already had the man pinned. As fast as he could, Willie dug around in his pocket and fumbled for his special jar. The jar that contained the fun liquid in it that he loved so much. 

Kerosene. He always made sure to have some on hand for moments like these. 

Willie popped open the bottle while still holding the man down. The man was screaming and kicking Willie repeatedly, but Willie didn’t care. He proceeded to pour the kerosene all over the man, emptying the bottle. The man spit the liquid out, but it wasn’t going to help him. 

Next, Willie found his lighter and flipped the switch, making the flame appear. He then held it to the man’s suit until it caught on fire. 

“Holy shit! What the hell?! Help! Somebody please, HELP ME!”

This is the part Willie loved the best. The screaming, the crying out in sheer agony. Once the majority of the man was engulfed in flames, he got off of him and watched the show. He watched gleefully as the man got up and ran around for a little while, flailing his arms helplessly until he collapsed on the ground. 

Willie walked over towards the man, wanting to make sure his work here was done. When he leaned down to check for any signs of life, he smiled from ear to ear when he saw that his victim was dead. 

Satisfied, Willie began to make his way out of the park. He took his time, savoring this moment. Willie knew that his thirst for blood wasn’t going to be quenched, ever. 

That is, until he killed her.

 

 

 

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Six

 

CHAPTER 11

 

 I stare at my father’s dead, lifeless body as he continues to bleed out on the couch. A smile forms on my face, and pretty soon, I’m grinning from ear-to-ear. 

   My father is dead. 

  That bastard that ruined my childhood, my entire life, is finally dead. I still couldn’t believe it. 

  Adrenaline courses through my veins as I stare at the body. My chest heaves with my heavy breathing as I try to figure out what to do next. The knife, which I’m still gripping in my hand, is drenched in blood. Blood soaks my hand, so I throw the knife across the room and proceed to wipe the blood all over my clothes, and even my face. It doesn’t bother me that it’s everywhere on me now. When I glance down, I realize that the blood on my clothesactually gives it a more sinister, scary look. 

   Which is perfect for Halloween. 

   I clap my hands together giddily as I laugh. Only one thing was going through my mind as I searched my home for a plastic bag. 

   IT’S TIME TO GO TRICK OR TREATING!

    Hurriedly, I scrounge around my house and look for a plastic bag or anything really, to use as a Halloween candy bag. Finally, I pull a plastic bag out of the trash and set off outside to start trick-or-treating.

   Walking around in the dark, looking at other kid’s costumes, I’m very pleased at how well I blend in with all the other costumes. People have blood on theirs too, even though I knew it was fake, it didn’t matter. I was still part of the crowd. 

   It gets a little boring going door-to-door by myself asking for candy, so I decide to find a group of kids to go with. I find a large group of maybe about fifteen kids, so I sneak into the middle of them, not saying anything. As we walk, I listen to their meaningless conversations while we make our way towards another house. 

    The night drags on and on. When I finally have a full bag of Halloween candy, I decide to ditch this random group of kids and start to head home. I suppose I should do something with my father’s body. Get rid of it somehow. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that exactly, since I‘d heard on TV that dead bodies are pretty heavy, and I had no muscles. Oh well, I was going to have to do something about it sooner or later. 

   Finally I arrive home. But I stop dead in my tracks when I see about five police cars surrounding my house. Quickly, I duck behind a bush, trying to control my anxiety. What the hell…how did anyone find out about the murder already? Did they…did they know who did it? I shake my head. No, idiot! There’s no way they could know that. 

    My eyes pan around, trying to take in the scene. I see several cops walking around the perimeter of my house, going in and out of it. Another one of them is placing yellow caution tape around, blocking it off completely. As my eyes scan the area, I spot something. Our neighbor, Mrs. Norris, is speaking with a police officer. She seems frightened and panicked as she talks to him. Confusion sweeps over me as I watch them talk. What was she doing here? 

   Then, out of nowhere, it hits me. She must’ve been bringing us something for Halloween, gone inside our house since I’d left the door unlocked, and found my father’s dead body. She must be the one who’d called the police. 

    Damnit!

    I don’t know what to do. Panic overwhelms me as my mind races, trying to figure something out. I knew I couldn’t go back to my house, they’d probably figure out that it was me who committed the murder and arrest me. Policemen were smart. It wouldn’t take them very long to figure out I did it. Shit. I don’t have anywhere else I can go. Guess I’d have to find somewhere else to live.

    Taking one last look at the chaotic crime scene, I grab my candy bag and set off to find myself a new home. I didn’t know much about finding somewhere new to live, but I just wanted a roof over my head. Didn’t really matter where it was. I just didn’t want to be around anybody else, and I especially didn’t want to live in a homeless shelter. 

   I walk for what seems like endless hours, until my feet begin to hurt so bad that I have to take a break. Exhausted, I sit down in a grassy bank area, trying to catch my breath. Sweat pours from my forehead, soaking my clothes. My stomach growls with hunger, so I dig into my Halloween candy, since it’s the only source of food that I have. 

   As I wipe sweat from my forehead, I glance over to my right and see what looks like an old sewage system. Curiosity gets the better of me so I get up and head over there to examine it. 

    When I approach the tunnel, the sewage smell is so intense that I gag, but I force myself to get used to it. I peer inside the tunnel, a little nervous to go inside since I don’t like tight spaces. But when I take my first steps inside, I realize that this could potentially be my new home. It would be perfect. A roof over my head, and nobody around for a good couple of miles. 

    It was exactly what I wanted. 

    I walk further and further inside and as I go deeper in, I notice a lot of creepy graffiti spray painted on the walls. There are several pentagrams, weird quotes, and many clown drawings. And as I continued walking, the clown drawings got even more scarier and creepier. But I loved them. To me, they were a beautiful work of art.    

    Masterpieces. 

   The tunnels begin to expand, making my claustrophobia much better. Pretty soon, I find a decently-sized cave. Water drips from the ceiling, reverberating off of the cave’s walls. It’s a little chilly down here since I’m so far deep into the tunnels. But…as I look around, taking in my new surroundings, I take a deep, relaxing breath.

    Finally, I’d found my new home. 

 

CHAPTER 12

 

 At some point, I must’ve dozed off because I begin having a dream. A nice dream; one that I wish I didn’t have to wake up from. 

   I dream that it’s prom night, and I’m at prom with Cameron. Paige is there too, dancing alongside us with her date. We’re slow dancing, swaying gently to slow-paced, romantic songs. I’m not very good at dancing, especially to slow songs. But Cam doesn’t care. He leads, guiding me, taking most of the pressure off of my shoulders. 

    As we dance, Cam whispers in my ear, “Hey, Maddie? If we get married sometime in the future, would you want kids?”

   The question takes me by surprise, but I think for a minute. I never really thought about having kids. The thought never really crossed my mind. But, I suppose that if I had kids with Cam, I wouldn’t mind that. 

   “Yeah, sure. But that’s so far into the future though,” I clarify. 

   Cam nods, “Yeah I agree with you about that. I was just curious,” he says, smiling. Cam then leans in and kisses me. 

    Suddenly, I hear heavy footsteps again, and I know that I’m about to wake up. 

   No, don’t do it! Don’t wake up! Stay here, in this moment! Because if you don’t, you’ll be back there again. With that goddamn clown. Don’t wake up! 

    But I can’t help it. I feel myself getting pulled out of the dream.. 

   When I wake up, my head is resting on my knees which are pulled up against my chest. I glance around, then jump as I see the clown pressing his face against the metal bars. He stares at me with curiosity in his eyes. Instantly, I back further up into the cell, my heart racing wildly with fear. 

    “Good morning, little kitty. You were talking in your sleep.”

    I feel my eyebrow raise up in confusion, “I-I was?” I ask.

   “Yes. You said, “I want to be with you forever. Who were you talking about?”

   I blink, trying to snap out of my grogginess as I try to remember when I said that. I don’t remember saying that in my dream, but I probably did at some point. Also, the only person who I’d want to spend forever with was Cam. But he was dead now. 

    “I must’ve been talking about Cam. My boyfriend. But you killed him.” I point over to where Cam’s lifeless body is still slumped over in his chair. 

   “No I didn’t,” the clown says, shaking his index finger in my face, “I just made him go to sleep. But you don’t need to spend forever with him anyways. You can spend it with me instead!” The clown says excitedly, bouncing up and down a little. 

   A cold shiver runs down my spine at the thought of spending the rest of my life with this psychotic clown.

    Desperately, I try to think of something that could maybe make the clown let me go. Not knowing what else to do, I use the fact that I’m his “little kitty” to my advantage. 

   “But…but your little kitty wants to go home. She’s not happy here. Don’t you want your little kitty to be happy?“ I ask, trying to sound as cute as possible. 

   The clown pauses for a long while, and my heart begins to race. Maybe if he sees me as an actual kitten, it could be my only chance to get out of here. 

   “But…but I want you to stay here. Forever. You’re such a good little kitty.” The clown pauses again, as if trying to think hard about something. 

    “Hey…do…do you want to dance? Since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you out and we can dance for a little while,” the clown says, as if dancing is some kind of reward. 

   At first the question takes me aback so much that I don’t know what to say. Dance? With this creep who killed my boyfriend and best friend? Hell no. 

   But…if I do dance with him, maybe it’ll help me earn his trust more. Maybe it would make him give me more freedom. Even though I hated the idea of dancing with him, I decide that I have no choice but to do it. 

    “Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s dance.”

   The clown claps his hands and jumps up and down a few times giddily as he digs the keys out of his pocket. He fumbles for the key that unlocks the cage, but finally, he finds it and releases me. 

    Then, the clown extends his filthy, blood-covered hand and I take it. My hand is trembling in his, but I try not to make it too obvious how terrified I actually am. 

    The clown leads me over towards an old record player that sits on a little table in a corner of the cave. He starts a record and it squeaks to life, playing a slow song called “Just the Two of Us by Bill Withers”. As we walk towards the center of the room, I’m forced to step over Paige’s lifeless body that lays in a crumpled heap on the ground. The clown puts his hand on my waist, then lifts my right hand a little bit into the air. 

    And we begin dancing. 

    I desperately want to punch the clown and run away. Sprint down into the tunnels and run until I find my way out. But…I know that’s not a very good plan. My punches probably wouldn’t do much to harm the clown, since he was so much bigger than me. As I get a better look at him, I realize he must be about six feet high, maybe even a little higher than that. He seems pretty overweight too, on top of his tall stature. I’m not sure how fast he can run, but since I was his favorite “little kitty” I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t let me get away that easily. 

    “Are you having a nice time, kitty?” The clown asks as we’re about halfway through the song. 

   As badly as I want to say no, I force myself to nod, “Yes, this is nice. I’m having fun.”

   The clown smiles widely from ear to ear. I try not to throw up as I get a whiff of his awful breath that wafts into my face. I don’t remember a time in my life when I’ve smelled anything worse than his breath. 

   We continue slow dancing for what seems like a century. Whenever the clown isn’t looking directly at me, I glance around, desperately searching for a way out. My mind races wildly as I try to come up with a good enough escape plan. Since this is the first and only time I’ve been let out of the cage, I realize that this could be my only chance of escaping. 

    It was now or never.

   Beads of sweat drip down my forehead as I continue looking. My eyes dart all around me rapidly until finally I see it. 

   There, in the clown’s pocket I find a weapon. His taser.

    When my eyes lock on the taser, my heart rate instantly accelerates. Adrenaline pumps through my veins so much that I act without even thinking. 

   In one swift motion, while the clown is distracted, I reach down and grab the taser as discreetly as possible. Then, I use my elbow and uppercut him as hard as I possibly can, making my hand go completely numb. I fumble for the taser until I have it firmly in my grasp. The clown screams in agony and stumbles backwards.

    Then, I run like hell. 

 

 

 

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Five

 

CHAPTER 9

 

  As far back as I can remember, I’ve always dressed up as a clown for Halloween. Every. Single. Year. Without fail. It was somewhat due to the fact that my family was poor, and we couldn’t afford a new costume every year. I didn’t give a fuck about that. I had to be a clown every year. If I wasn’t, I’d get very, very, very…upset. 

    But every year, I was a clown. Without fail. Usually, Halloween was my favorite holiday, and I always looked forward to it. Except this year. This year’s Halloween had already started off badly. It seemed like everything that could go wrong was, indeed, going wrong. 

   For starters, my mother had just up and abandoned me completely. It had been a few weeks since she’d left, and I waited at the front door for her to return since my father had become a little more lenient on me being kept in the pantry all day and night. But…she never did. She never even came back for me. 

   Pretty soon, it was Halloween. I was hoping that this day would lift my spirits, that I’d feel even the slightest bit better. But…I felt nothing. It didn’t matter that Halloween was finally here. I still felt down in the dumps, as if I was sad. Overtime I’d gotten used to feeling sad, since I felt it every day. But today it hit me worse than usual, which made me angry. 

    As the sun was beginning to set, I headed to the laundry room to grab my clown costume. It had just finished getting dried, and it was quickly getting dark outside. I needed to get a move on if I wanted to scare as many little kids as I possibly could before they all went home. Every year I tried to set a new record for myself to scare more kids; and this year I was determined to beat it. 

  When I got to the laundry room however, my heart nearly stopped as I saw my clown costume lying scattered on the floor. The first thing I noticed was that the drier door was opened a little somehow. I briefly wondered if I hadn’t closed it properly, but I know for a fact I had. Then, as I continued to look around, I could see that it looked like someone had torn up my costume. 

   Torn it to shreds. 

   Panicked, I bent down and tried to see if I could find anything that was salvageable. When I couldn’t find anything but half a pant’s leg, my fake red nose, and my makeup, anger boiled within me. I quickly began to realize what had happened, and fury blinded me so much that all I could see was red.

   Even though I was livid, I managed to form one conclusion as to what had happened. I knew sometimes my father let out our Rottweiler dog, to roam the house freely. (My father would let that damn dog out more than he ever did with me.) Anyways, the dog must have wondered into the laundry room, saw my costume hanging out of the dryer, and decided to tear it up. 

   Just my fucking luck. 

   Anger swelled up inside of me so much that my hands began to shake at my sides. Before I could do anything to stop myself, I storm over towards the kitchen. 

   In my blind rage, I start rummaging through all of the kitchen drawers. I was so furious that I couldn’t even breathe right. My breathing was coming out in quick, rapid huffs. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What was worse, a voice inside my head was urging me to do something terrible. To solve the problem, so to speak. 

   You know what you have to do. Kill him. Now. 

   That was the only clear thought I could understand at the moment. Part of me didn’t want to follow through and obey the voice. But, the part of me that was absolutely seething with rage said: Fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck everything. 

   My life had been complete shit up until now, and this…my clown costume getting destroyed…was just the icing on the cake. How could my life get any worse? 

   Finally, I found it. The largest kitchen knife I could find. It was a bread knife which was about seven inches long with a razor sharp edge. I grin when I see it and hold it in my hand. For some reason, holding the knife just felt…so…right.

   Perfect, I think. 

   Now, the only thing left was to find my father. Where oh where could he be? Nervously, I hide the knife behind my back as I crept around my house, searching for him. He’s probably either in his bedroom sleeping or in the living room. 

    As I keep searching for him, I could hear the voice in my head grow louder and louder. Egging me on. Eventually it rose so loud that I could no longer hear my own self think anymore. 

    Hurry, kill him. Halloween is almost over. Hurry! Hurry!

   Finally, I find him. He’s passed out in the living room, an empty beer bottle in his hand. The tv is still on, but it’s just static now. Many beer bottles litter the floor; I wasn’t good at counting, so I didn’t bother to count exactly how many. But they were everywhere. 

   Slowly, very slowly, I raise the knife in front of me. At first, I want to back out of this. I’m too squeamish and timid to follow through. I know I shouldn’t do it either. But, like I’d said before, it didn’t matter. This is what he gets for killing my brother all those years ago, and for letting my costume get destroyed.

  No one would miss the bastard anyways. 

   Then, while my father slept, I hear the voice again, this time so loud that it hurts my ears. 

    DO IT! YOU HAVE TO DO IT NOW! JUST DO IT ALREADY!

   Finally, I cave in. Raising the knife as high as I can with my feeble hand, I plunge it into my father’s heart, driving it as deeply as I possibly can. It’s hard because I’m not that strong. To my surprise, my father wakes up, gasping for air. He looks at me with complete horror and disbelief, but I keep pressing the knife in deeper and deeper. And deeper. 

   As I press the knife in his chest, he finally stops breathing. When he does, I drop the knife and step back, grinning as a sense of relief washes over me.

 

CHAPTER 10

 

   I’m not exactly sure how long we’ve been trapped here for. Has it really only been 24 hours? I was trying to keep track earlier, but in here, in this dank, tiny cave, you have absolutely no sense of time. No sense of knowing whether it’s daylight or dark outside. No sense of anything, really. 

   It’s driving me crazy. 

   But what’s driving me even crazier is the fact that Cameron is dead. His dead body is still slumped over in the chair across from me. I stare at it in complete disbelief, my whole body cold from numbness. No matter how hard I tried, for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. Maybe it was the shock, but I really didn’t know why. 

   What frightens me the most right now is that I don’t know where the clown went. After broadcasting Cam’s death on TV, he just…disappeared. Retreated somewhere in his cave. Now, Paige and I were still locked in our little cell, terrified of when he comes back. I know we have to try and get out before he does, but how? I had no key, not even any Bobby pins to try and pick the lock with. 

   “Hey Maddie?”

    I tear my eyes away from Cam and glance over at Paige. Her voice sounds small and timid, almost childlike. She sniffles as she wipes away some tears that stream down her face. 

   “Yeah?” 

   “Promise me that when you get out of here, you’ll tell my parents I said I love them. Okay? Please, tell them how much I love them. You know…in case I don’t…in case I don’t…make it.”

   Paige begins to sob uncontrollably, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them as she buries her head. I cross over to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her body racks with sobs. 

    “Hey, don’t talk like that okay, Paige? We’re going to get out of here. Together. You hear me? You and I are going to see our families and tell them what happened to Cam so he can get a proper burial. We’re going to be just fine. Understand?”

   I try to put as much determination in my voice as possible, but my voice sounds unconvincing, even to me. I’m hoping Paige doesn’t hear it. She continues to sob as I hold her tightly, trying to keep it together myself. I wipe a few stray tears from my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. Because if I start crying, that means I’ll have begun to lose hope. 

   And I’m not ready to do that yet. 

   Hours pass, and the cave is eerily quiet. Somewhere close by, water drips from the ceiling, hitting the ground so loudly that it echos throughout the cave. It’s so silent that you can hear a pin drop. 

   But just as I get used to the deafening 

 silence, I hear heavy footsteps coming towards us. Panic begins to swell up inside of me, my heart pounding so hard that I feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest. Next to me, Paige begins to have a full-on panic attack, hyperventilating as we hear the clown draw nearer, and nearer to us. I do my best to calm her down, but it’s no use. 

    Finally, we see him emerge from the hallway. The clown drags what seem to be heavy iron chains that rattle as they drag on the ground. It seems as if he’s even struggling to haul them down here, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He has a huge grin on his face, as if he’s excited for something. I swallow nervously, trying to figure out what he plans on doing next. But down in my heart, I know that whatever happens next isn’t going to be good. 

   The clown is now only ten feet away from us. He throws the chains down, which make a loud CRASH! as they hit the floor, making both Paige and I jump. 

   Next, the clown stays standing for a minute as he catches his breath. He breathes heavily, as if dragging those chains was a huge workout for him. Then, after he composes himself, the clown begins making his way over towards us. 

    “HELP! OH GOD SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP US! HELP!” 

  Paige cries desperately as the clown continues heading towards us. Her cries echo around the cave, but I’m not sure how far they’re actually traveling. Can they reach the end of the cave at all?    

   Probably not.

   The clown reaches our cage and begins glancing back and forth between us. First he locks eyes with me, then glances at Paige. Then he goes back to me, and repeats. This goes on for several long, antagonizing minutes. 

   “This little kitty is beginning to annoy me,” he says.

   Suddenly, before I can react, the clown begins to undo our lock. Once it’s unlocked, he reaches for Paige and grabs her by the throat. I grab her hand, trying desperately to keep her inside the cell, but it’s no use. 

    As soon as the clown gets a good grip on Paige, he drags her out of the cell and locks the door back with one hand. Paige kicks and screams, terrified, as the clown drags her, then throws her onto the ground like a rag doll. 

   While the clown goes over and grabs the iron chains, Paige tries to get up, but she can’t. The clown is too fast. Somehow, within a matter of seconds, he grabs the chains and throws them around Paige so fast that she doesn’t even have time to stand up. I watch in horror as the clown proceeds to wrap the iron chains around Paige’s body while she’s standing. 

   “Please, let her go! Please! Kill me instead, just kill me! Don’t hurt her, please!” I beg, feeling completely helpless. 

   “No no no! This little kitty got on my last nerves, so we’re going to play a little game! Let me just turn on the TV first, then the game can begin!” The clown says, his voice high pitched and shrill. 

   I watch as he crosses over towards the TV and switches it on. He picks up his microphone, taps it several times to make sure it’s on, then starts talking. 

   “Good evening all my wonderful viewers! Welcome back to another game! This one is sadly not my favorite, but it’s still fun to play! It’s called, “Time and Torture!” The rules are simple: see how long it takes for your captive to die while you torture them! Let’s begin shall we!?”

   “Stop! Please let me go! Please! I don’t wanna die! Please!“ Paige cries out, tears falling down her face. 

   “Shut up, your yelling is making me very angry!” The clown yells, slapping page across the face so hard that her head turns. 

   I wince as he takes out a taser and uses it on Paige’s neck. She screams in pure agony, her body writhing in pain. Tears pour from my eyes as I cling to the bars of my cage, wishing with everything in me that I could save my friend. But no amount of pleading or begging the clown for me to take Paige’s place changes his mind. He’s dead set on torturing her. 

   

    For the next several hours, I watch helplessly as Paige is tortured. She’s tased several more times, and the clown constantly places a plastic bag over her head to suffocate her, but every time she’s about to die, the clown removes it. He then waits for her to pass out, then repeats the process. 

   My mind can’t understand why this clown is torturing and killing us off one by one. Was it really because we’d accidentally stumbled into his home? It didn’t make any sense. But…I guess living this deep into the clown tunnel would make anybody crazy.

   Hours later, I can tell Paige is alive, but barley. She’s hardly moving now, and I can still see her breathing, but I hear it come out in slow, shallow breaths. My mind is racing, trying to come up with a way to save her. I promised her that she would get out of here with me. That we’d be able to see our families again, and tell our parents that we love them. I had to keep my promise.

   “Paige? Paige wake up, please wake up. Please! Remember what we said? That we’d see our families again? Remember I promised that we’d get out of here?? You have to stay alive Paige, please! Don’t give up!” I cry, desperation in my voice. 

    “Uh oh, this little kitty is annoying me now too! She’d better keep her mouth shut if she wants to live!” The clown yells into the microphone.

   “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just let Paige go, ok? I promise!” I tell the clown.

  “Promises promises,” he says, his voice getting a little bit lower as he speaks into the microphone, “promises are funny. LIKE A BALLOON!” 

   Suddenly, the clown laughs so maniacally and so loud, that I can’t even hear Paige scream anymore. Then, the next thing I know, the clown stabs Paige right through her heart with a nine inch bread knife. In that moment, it’s as if time slows down completely. 

   I watch the life slowly drain out of Paige’s eyes as her face goes completely white. She struggles to breathe for only a few moments, then, soon, she stops breathing completely. My heart shatters into a million pieces as I watch my best friend lose her life. 

 

   

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Four

 

CHAPTER 7

 

    There were only ever a few times when I was ever allowed out of the tiny pantry. On holidays, and when people were coming over to visit.

   I remember one day when I was actually allowed out. It was a rainy day, and I think my father was expecting people over to watch some stupid football game. He was cooking hamburgers inside the house, and smoke filled the entire house, making the smoke alarm go off. After a series of curse words from my father, he managed to extinguish the fire and continue cooking. 

   After the burgers are ready, to my surprise, he hands me a plate.

  “Here,” he says.

   I quickly snatch the plastic plate from his hands and stare at the burger for a solid minute before I start devouring it. The burger was very burnt, but I didn’t care. Food was food. And I hardly ever got any of it. 

   “You don’t say a word to anyone about you livin in the pantry. Ya hear? Say a word to anybody, and you’re dead. Got it?”

   My father glares at me with absolute hatred and disgust as I eat the burger. I almost forget to answer him since I’m eating. But I vigorously nod my head as I continue stuffing my face with the delicious, very charred, burger. 

    Pretty soon, people begin to arrive at the house, and the place is filled with laughter and happiness. Everyone is drinking as they shout at the tv, cheering for whatever football team that they’re rooting for. 

   I guess the fact that my father just threatened my life never really registered with me. It seemed to have flown over my head. I was too distracted by all the commotion and loud noises to fully understand what he’d said. I was just so happy to be out of the pantry and have a decent meal for once. It was nice to watch some tv, even though I had absolutely no idea what was going on. 

   “Hey Jim where’s the goddamn beer?! I’m still thirsty over here!” One of my father’s friends yells, busting my eardrums.

   “Here in the kitchen. I thought I told ya to bring your own!” My father yells, anger in his voice.

   When mostly everyone is in the kitchen eating during commercials on the tv, I stay in the living room and watch the commercials. Suddenly, a commercial for Halloween comes on, and the commercial seems like it’s advertising different costumes. They look pretty scary, but none of them really frighten me. As the costumes continue flashing in front of my eyes, I see one that catches my attention. 

   For a split second, I see an image of a brightly colored “clown” costume. I tilt my head with curiosity. Why would a clown costume be advertised in a Halloween commercial? Aren’t they just supposed to be funny?

    “Dad, why did they show a clown costume?” I ask. 

    “Huh? Oh, some people are afraid of clowns, I guess. That’s why they dress up like them on Halloween. To scare people,” my father explains. 

   I’m surprised that I even got an answer from him at all. Usually when I try to speak to my father, he either ignores me or hits me. But I know he’s only answering me now because we have guests over. 

  For some reason, the fact that clowns could be both funny and scary at the same time fascinated me. Up until this point, I never knew some people thought clowns were terrifying. 

    Scary clowns…so cool…I think.

 

CHAPTER 8 

 

   Paige and I hold each other as we watch the clown tie up Cameron. The clown dances around him, laughing hysterically and talking complete nonsense as he finishes tying him up. 

   “I know!” The clown exclaims after a while, making both Paige and I jump, “Let’s play my favorite game! You do know what that is right? My audience knows what it is!”

   I feel my anxiety worsen as I can’t understand what this psychotic clown is saying. 

   Audience? What audience? 

   I scan the room frantically, trying to figure out what the hell he means. Soon, my eyes pan over towards an old-fashioned tv set that sits in front of where Cam is. I didn’t notice it before because of how terrified I am right now. Confusion overwhelms me as I still try to understand what he means. 

   Suddenly, the clown rushes over towards the TV set and picks up a microphone that was on the floor. He taps it a couple of times, giggling as he does so.

   “Hello everybody!! Welcome to another episode of Willie’s Whacky Fun Show! As promised, I have a new guest here with me today! He was very naughty and intruded in my home, so we’re going to play a little game…RUSSIAN ROULETTE! MY FAVORITE!! 

   I know everybody knows the rules, but I’ll explain them for any newcomers! If the boy doesn’t get shot by the end of the six rounds we’ll play, then he wins! If I get shot, I lose! Now, who’s ready to play?!” 

    My heart rate picks up at an incredible speed as panic courses through me. What the…what the hell was going on here? I try to wrap my brain around what I’ve just seen. The clown was speaking into a microphone and talking to his TV. As I look around, the TV seems to be connected to a series of long wires that wrap along the walls of the tunnels. Suddenly, my heart drops as I realize what’s happening. This clown was broadcasting everything that was happening to Cam on TV. Live TV. 

   But it didn’t make any sense. If he was broadcasting his own show live, wouldn’t there be millions of viewers coming to rescue us? Wouldn’t they be appalled at what they were witnessing? Wouldn’t our family and friends be trying to come find us? 

   I think hard for a minute…then, I gasp as I realize something. Not everyone could be watching the clown’s sick TV show. Maybe…maybe you had to pay to watch it? Was that how it worked? The longer I think about it, the more it makes sense. 

   Paige and I scream in terror when we see the clown pull out a pistol. I sob hysterically, tears streaming down my face as I watch the clown loads his revolver. 

   “CAM! PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM, I LOVE HIM! PLEASE, KILL ME INSTEAD! JUST DON’T KILL HIM!” I yell, my throat raw from screaming. 

    “Shut up, little kitty!! Or you’ll be playing Russian roulette next!” The clown snaps at me, making me jump. 

   “Now, let’s begin shall we?! I’ll go first. I really hope I don’t die!” The clown shrieks, laughing his head off as he pulls the trigger. 

   I hold my breath scared out of my mind. I can’t even imagine how Cam feels, and what’s going through his head right now. I can see him hyperventilating as he sits there, bound to his chair. Completely unable to move. 

   Suddenly, the clown pulls the trigger and we all scream. I cover my eyes, terrified to look in case someone gets shot. 

   But when I peak through my hands, no bullet has been fired. Both Cameron and the clown are still alive. 

    I breathe a small sigh of relief. 

    “Guess we both got lucky that time! Hahahaha!” The clown laughs as he places his hand on the trigger again. 

   “Maddie, listen to me. I love you ok? I’m so sorry that I dragged us into this. It-it’s all my fault. I’m so so sorry. Just know that I love you; I always have!” Cameron suddenly says, tears streaming down his face. 

   I shake my head, “Don’t you dare start saying that stuff! You’re going to be ok you hear me?!”

   Cameron hangs his head as he starts sobbing uncontrollably. I feel my entire body tremble with fear as I watch the clown place the gun to his head as he starts the second round of the game. 

   “Hey! Let Cameron go! PLEASE! I love him, don’t hurt him, I’m begging you!” I cry at the top of my voice. 

   “Please, please just let him go!” Paige begs.

    The clown lowers his gun then begins walking over towards me and Paige again. I know we’ve made him mad, but I don’t care. I’m trying to save Cameron’s life. 

   “I thought I told you kitties to be quiet. You’re ruining our game!” He yells. 

    “AHH!” I cry out. 

     Suddenly, I feel an electric shock so powerful on my neck that it makes me collapse onto the ground. I cry out in pain and twitch a little as electricity shoots through my neck. I can even feel it in my back and face.

    “Maddie! Oh God, Maddie!” Cam screams. 

   “Maddie!” Paige exclaims, kneeling down to help me. 

   “That oughta teach you kitties to listen to me. Now back to my game!”

   The clown proceeds to skip happily over towards Cameron. I desperately try to get up, but I can’t even open my eyes since I’m in so much pain. Paige shakes me gently, trying to get me to wake up, but it’s no use. My head throbs so much and my neck feels like it’s on fire. 

    Eventually, I do wake back up. Paige helps me lift my head, and I rest it on her shoulders, feeling weak. We keep watching helplessly as the clown continues his sadistic game. 

   “Let’s begin round 2 shall we?! Me first again!!” The clown exclaims. 

   He puts his finger on the trigger and pulls it. No bullet is fired again.

   “YAYY I SURVIVED! Your turn little boy!” The clown screams, pointing the gun at Cameron’s temple. 

    “Wait, please! Stop!” Cameron begs, his entire body shaking with fear.

   The clown pulls the trigger, and suddenly, a loud BANG goes off, echoing throughout the tunnels. When I see what’s just happened, I feel like I’m going to pass out. 

   Cameron is slumped over in his chair, blood pouring from his temple. As I look closer at him, I see that he’s not moving whatsoever.

    My heart sinks as I realize that Cameron is dead.

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Three

 

CHAPTER 5

 

“Mommy? Mommy are you awake yet? I wanna talk to you.”

   I shake my mother gently who’s passed out on the living room couch. There are several bottles of alcohol scattered all around her on the floor. When I look down, I notice she’s gripping a bottle of vodka in her hand. She mumbles in her sleep, but I can’t really make out what she’s saying. All I know is that I need to talk to her. Desperately. Because I feel like I’m going crazy. 

“Mommy! Wake up!” 

But my mom is completely unresponsive. She simply rolls over and continues to snore loudly. Anger takes over me and I glare at her with absolute hatred.

“Hey, what are you doing out of the pantry? Get back in there! Right now!”

I jump, startled, as I hear my father approaching me. He storms over towards me, his eyes burning with hate and evil. I back up, but he grabs me by my ear and pulls me towards the pantry. Shit. I really did not wanna go back in there. And I didn’t get a chance to tell Mommy about the voices I’ve been hearing in my head. This was my one and only chance to tell her, and it was ruined. I didn’t know when I’d have a chance to escape the pantry again. 

I probably never would. 

I try to fight my father as best I can, but he’s just too strong. Not that I have much of a chance of getting away from him anyways. I’m too malnourished and weak to fight him, and he knows it. 

My father throws me so hard into the pantry that I fall into a crumpled heap on the floor, my vision going black. The last thing I see is my father slamming the door and locking it, leaving me in complete darkness. 

 

CHAPTER 6

 

“Maddie, Maddie wake up. Maddie!”

I’m woken up to Cam gently shaking me awake. My head hurts so badly that it takes me a while to open my eyes. It takes me a while for my eyes to focus and adjust to my surroundings, but when I finally come to, I see Cam looking down at me with worry. Next to him sits Paige. She has a look of sheer terror in her eyes, and her face is as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Where-where are we? What…what  happened?” I ask, sitting up slowly. 

Cameron swallows hard before answering me, “I think someone knocked us out and brought us deeper into the clown tunnels, Maddie. They brought me here first, then you guys.”

I stare at Cam, my eyes full of bewilderment, “You-you’re saying we’re prisoners down here now? Haven’t you tried getting out?” I ask, anger swelling up inside me. 

Cam points to metal bars that have a huge, industrial sized lock and chain wrapped around it. “Does it look like there’s a way out?!” He snaps.

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I realize that this is the first time in our three year relationship that Cam has ever snapped at me, or gotten angry with me. I know that this is a very bad situation that we’re in, so I understand why he’s frustrated and scared. I’m scared too.

“What are we gonna do? How are we gonna get out of here?” Paige asks, her lip quivering as tears stream down her face. 

“Cam, did you see who brought us here? How many people was it?” I ask. 

Cam swallows hard as he tries to snap himself out of his state of fear. “I’ve only seen one guy so far, so I think it was just one. I have a plan. I think I can rush him, maybe if I can take him down when he comes to let us out, we can get out of here. While I’m knocking him out, you guys run and I’ll catch up to you. Got it?”

Paige shakes her head, “Cam we’re not leaving you down here with him!”

“You guys don’t have a choice! I want you guys to get out, don’t worry about me. I’m the one who got us into this, and I’m gonna get you out. Even if it means I don’t make it.”

“Cam, shut up you’re going to make it, alright? All of us are. Now let’s get ready to attack before the guy gets here.”

I nod, my heart pounding out of my chest. As I glance over at Paige, she has a look of terror in her eyes too, but she’s already crouched as if she’s ready to run. I brace myself too, balling my hands into fists as if that’ll do anything. 

My heart rate picks up as I begin to hear heavy footsteps walking towards us. Behind me, Paige hyperventilates, gasping for air as she struggles to breathe. I’m not much better off; beads of cold sweat drip down my face and my breathing comes out shallow, but I’m trying to keep it together. Cam looks the most calm and collected out of all of us, but I’m sure he’s scared shitless. 

“When I jump him, you guys run as fast as you can. Get the hell out of here. Ok?” He says again, going over his plan. 

Finally, the clown comes into view. It’s hard to make out every detail because of the dim lighting, but I see a heavy set man wearing an orange afro and a checkered clown suit with the colors red, green and black on it. He has his eyes painted with white clown makeup, wears a red ball over his nose, and has a frown painted in the same white paint but outlined in red, making it stand out against his other makeup. 

“Look at my little treasures! What fun it’s going to be to destroy all of them!” The clown shrieks, laughing hysterically. 

We all back up as far as we can into our tiny, cramped cell. The clown approaches the metal gate and begins to unlock it. I squeeze Cam’s shoulder hard, trying to give him a boost of confidence. Then, slowly…too slowly…the clown unlocks the gate. 

What happens next seems like it happens in slow motion. 

Cam rushes the clown, tackling it to the ground as hard as he can. He begins to beat the living daylight out of it, punching it repeatedly in the head. 

“Go, go, go!” Cam yells, his voice cracking as he beats up the clown.

“Maddie, go!” Paige yells, pushing me out of the cell, snapping me out of my state of shock. 

Paige and I nearly trip over each other as we try to find our way out of the tunnels, but we don’t even make it out of our cell.

Because when I look back, I see the clown roll over so that Cam is underneath him. The clown punches Cam once in his face, and he goes unconscious. I stare at the clown in complete disbelief. 

“CAM! CAM GET UP, PLEASE GET UP! CAM!” I yell at the top of my lungs. 

But Cam doesn’t get up. He lays there on the cold ground, unmoving. Paige is tugging on my arm, trying to get me to move, but I can’t. It’s like I’m frozen in fear, or shock. Or both. But no matter what I do, I can’t move my feet.

The clown slowly approaches me and Paige, forcing us to back up against the wall. Paige is trembling so hard that she can hardly stand upright. I feel my body shaking too, but I’m trying not to show the clown how terrified I really am. 

“Get back in your cage, little kitties, or I’ll rip your friend’s heart out!” 

The clown yells at us, and we nod- his voice so loud and shrill that it leaves my ears ringing. Reluctantly, Paige and I get back into the cell and he locks the door. I don’t know why, but when the clown calls Paige and I “little kitties” a chill goes down my spine, making me shiver. 

I watch helplessly as the clown begins to tie Cam up in a rickety, old wooden chair. Paige sobs uncontrollably next to me, and I feel tears stream down my own face as well. I don’t remember a time in my life where I’ve felt so helpless.