I was tormented by a “clown”.

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https://darknessprevails.org/i-was-tormented-by-a-clown/

Greetings, all.

My name is Indigo Idony-Moira, a now nineteen year old female living in Britain. At the time of this story.. I was only thirteen.

I had started my second year of highschool, probably half-way through the second-to-last term. I had a nice home, good parents and a brother. It all started when my parents started leaving me and my brother home alone more often, usually going to late night parties, ect. For a long, long, time.

One night, I was in my bedroom. It was way past my bedtime, and I was reading one of my many books I owned. While I was reading, nothing really felt… /wrong/, should I say… nor odd. It was when I put down my book, turned off my nightlight and was about to head off to bed was when things started to get.. strange. First, I heard a gentle knock on my window – even though I had closed my blinds and curtains. I stood up from my bed, walking over and looking through the crack in my curtains and lifted up my blinds, to see nothing. It could’ve been a few scallies ( people who seemed to be a bit sketchy / weird ) messing around or something.

What happened next scratched that idea for me. I heard the faint, distant noises of a horn. You know, the ones that you would squeeze and they would make a noise? Yeah, those kind. I closed my eyes, checking the time – somewhere around eleven. Great.

I shook it off as best I could, getting back into bed and I think I fell asleep quickly, I’m not sure.

The next day comes round and it’s somewhere around 6. This means I had an hour and half to come to my senses, then I’d have to get ready for the day. A little later, probably at least ten minutes in, and… I can’t even explain what happens next.

Outside my door, a music box begins to play. At this point, I’m beyond terrified and I’m hiding underneath the covers for dear life ( not like they would save me, though ) as the music played. I recognised the tune slightly… kind of like a distant relative to Pop Goes The Weasel. It was slower, and the music sounded a lot harsher.

When the music stopped, I was quick to jump to my feet and grab the nearest thing to me while inching toward the door in fear. I swung the door open.. only to see nothing. This whole situation was stressing me out already. Last night… and now this?

Over the next few days, nothing much happened. I just went round my usual school day, got the bus home, ect. I was relieved that it had… ended. Guess I thought wrong, and whatever it was that was tormenting me lured me into a false sense of security.

It was a Saturday night, I think, and my parents weren’t home and it was just me and my brother ( who was 16 at the time ). We were in our own rooms, he was most likely gaming. That’s what he ever did those days.

I figured I needed a drink, and so I decided to go downstairs to fetch something to drink. I open my door, go across the hallway to tell my brother I was gonna get a drink and asked if he wanted anything as well. He also said he wanted a drink, too.

I went back into the hallway, checking the bathroom and other rooms to check if anything was there – you never know what could happen. Going down the stairs, I popped my head into the living room to check in there as well. Only the cats, sleeping up on the cat tree. ” Thank God, ” I muttered to myself, closing the door and heading into the kitchen…

… And there it was. Whatever the fuck it was… facing the window by the sink. Tall, skinny… I was terrified. I backed away slowly from the figure – wide eyes and all. It… was wearing a clown suit… only in different shades of black. At this point in time, I felt like I was going to faint at any moment.

Then, my fight, flight and freeze instincts kicked in. At first, I froze up entirely. I broke out into a run, dashing back up the stairs – stumbling a few times. Once I was on my feet and up the stairs, I bursted into my brother’s room in tears, crying about the thing downstairs.

My brother didn’t believe me, telling me I was probably hallucinating or something… until I had given him the description of the thing. He had quit his game by then, standing up to go check. We both came into the hall, looking down the stairs.

It was there. Facing. The. Back. Door.

I was about to scream and cry, but my brother had already covered my mouth with his hand, keeping his eyes on… the thing. It never turned around. It just… stood there. Long, thin limbs… loose fitting clothes. My brother had slung me over his shoulder, rushing back into his own room and basically throwing me onto his bed as I cried hysterically, soon joining me and hugging me tightly. We… were unsure whether it had left or not.

We had stayed like that until our parents had came home, coming to find the tap running in the kitchen and us in my brother’s room, curled up and half asleep. Once they had came in, both me and my brother were quick to tell them what happened. I was mainly the one telling the story, but my brother butted in a few times to add in details I forgot. My parents then went out less often, and if they did go out, it’d be for at least ten minutes to twenty minutes or so.

I … don’t think the thing ever left me alone. Sometimes I see a black figure in the corner of my eye, or looming over me while I’m trying to sleep nowadays, in my own apartment. Usually I call it ‘ bitchy clown ‘, but… I’ll never know what it truly looked like.

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