Dark, Scary Rainbows

I remember this one night when I was at a carnival. I was young and of course, feared heights. So the Ferris Wheel was a death trap to me. But that wasnt the scariest thing. The scariest thing was the clown. I went to the carnival with my sister, brother, and a few of their friends. Wherever we walked, I felt like I was being watched by the clown. Ever corner I turned, he was there.

It was 11:00 before we finally left to go home. I was happy as hell to finally leave. But as we were walking down the path, I heard footsteps whenever we went to take a break. The roads were empty. That was until something…someone appeared among the fog. It stared at us, something sharp was firmly gripped in their hand. My fear level went from 50%, all the way to 150%. All of us scattered, me running in the direction of my house. I could hear the footsteps following behind me. Finally the clatter of footsteps stopped, and nobody was behind me. Nobody. Not even my siblings. After a few minutes of walking, I heard screams, I counted them.

There were 6 of us. Me, My sister, My brother, two of my sisters friends and one of my brothers friends. I heard 5 screams. That means it got everyone else, but skipped me. Or was it waiting to get me. I finally made it home, my parents were still out at dinner. I went to go grab some water.

I sat down on the living room couch, staring out the window towards the sky. It was peaceful except for one sound, a low-groaning noise that sounded like a human in pain. I looked towards my front yard and almost wished I never would have. In the yard was the same clown from the carnival, next to him were both my parents. Both of their legs had been deeply cut, and they were scrambling to get away. The clown took the shovel that was laying in our yard and forced it through my moms back, blood gushing from her body. The shovel was soon a dark red color and my dad was cursing at the clown. I was already breaking deep into tears. The clown left the shovel and went to grab the leaf blower. He returned, grabbed my father by his head and forced the leaf blower nozzle into his mouth. He flipped it on, but not so that it was blowing, but instead it was sucking. My dads body began to deflate, while the leaf blower was making a slurping noise. Blood began to seep out of my dads mouth. It finally stopped after a few minutes, and the clown stretched its arms.

He pulled out a small machete that had been sheathed onto his waist. He walked towards my front door, I ran. My parents bedroom had a large vent underneath the bed. I hid there with a knife. I could hear the footsteps from the stairs, he was heading directly for my parents room. He opened the door, and chuckled. He knew I was somewhere in that room. Then I heard the floor start screeching, he was moving the bed! As soon as I had s perfect aim for his throat, I lunged at him. I stabbed his chest as many times as possible.

He stopped breathing. Was it over? Was this seriously how it all ended?

He began to smile. I knew I was doomed.

  • ∆_R.H_∆

    There must be part two coming out!
    The clown could be something non killable (if that’s even a word) awesome story!

    • Batunikitty, God of cringe

      In most creepypastas, they leave you at a cliff-hanger. Those creepypastas never have sequels.

    • B76

      A second one has already been published, and a third is soon to be submitted for publishing. If there is anything any of you would like to see in the 3rd, my kik is ThatHunterNigga and my email is willinggrenade@gmail.com

  • Ellpa Elgae

    Great story and all, but it was paced wrong. It was too fast, especially on the action parts. When they’re hiding underneath the bed, describe the clown walking up the stairs to them. For example, ‘I listened for the clown. Step, step, step, up the stairs. The door creaked open, and I watched it’s large shoes walk towards the bed. I heard it begin to screech against the hardwood floor as the clown began pulling it away.’ Something like that. Onimonipia would help in your story, too, like when you’re at the carnival, you listened to the roar of the crowd or something like that. I still like your story a lot, though.
    P.S. Clowns are a little generic by the way, but you know that.

    • B76

      Like i probably have said, this story was more of a dedication to a friend, because of their fear of clowns. But i decided to change it into a sequel

  • Batunikitty, God of cringe

    If you knew you were doomed, how did you write this?

    • B76

      Its a fictional story. But if you havent already, make sure to check out the second

  • SkullNboNes

    Some of it could’ve been worded better but not bad. Also I really wanna know what type of leaf blower he was using to make the dad’s body deflate lol.

    • B76

      It was more of a morbid joke.

  • Simon

    “I was young and of course, feared heights. So the Ferris Wheel was a death trap to me.”
    Well, that sure was important to know…

    • B76

      Yes it was. I was explaining the fears, the ferris wheel was one.

      • Simon

        Yeah, but the fear of heights is never brought up again and serves no purpose to the plot whatsoever. Establishing it was completely pointless.

        • B76

          After i stated the fear of heights, i stated that clowns were a bigver fear. The fear of heights was a transitional sentence

          • Simon

            Well, that’s a terrible transition then. Bringing up a thing in a single sentence just to change the subject in the next? You might as well have just started talking about clowns directly.
            Now, if the story started with the main character having to get a ride on the Ferris Wheel and then made the transition from talking about fear of heights to fear of clowns, that would actually make some sence.