It was a cold September night, feathery clouds fanned out in the sky, the moon cast an eerie silver glow among the trees, and the town was quiet. It was about 12:42. I had been up all night watching TV and playing video games and even that got boring after a while, so I decided a nice long walk was a good idea, not a smart idea, just a good idea.
I walked down the side of the road, staying hidden in the dark and away from the yellow pools of light, illuminating from the street lamps. I understand it sounds stupid, because if anyone attacks me and I was in the light someone would have a chance to seeing the action and call 911. But if I stay in the dark than the attacker can’t find me in the first place. So weirdly enough I feel completely safe in the dark, they can’t see me.
Soon I found myself downtown, behind the bar which was oddly closed. I made my way to a window and peaked inside, I was told it was closed due to murder, but it sounded like a dumb rumor, so no one believed it. But now I do. On the floor I counted 13 chalk outlines and the walls were splattered wetly with blood.
As I stared curiously through the glass something happened. I began to hear the chimes of the song ‘pop goes the weasel’ playing from somewhere inside the bar. It was faint but loud enough to be noticed. I walked over to the bar’s entrance and hesitantly crawled through a loose board, intended to block the doorway. I quietly stepped inside, but the song had stopped. I took a few more steps into the building when the song began to play again. It was high pitched and slowed way down, in a way it was cold and sinister but it was hard to pinpoint exactly how.
Placing one foot in front of the other I started toward the horrific noise. I made my way around the shattered glass and spilled alcohol, along with the everlasting pools of blood. As I fallowed the noise I found myself walking farther to the back of the bar. I turned a corner near the restrooms and found it. It was a hallway, to dark to see the end of, but right at the edge were there was enough light to see I found myself looking down at a jack in the box. It was old and dirty and splattered with blood. It weakly chimed out the last three notes before a man emerged from the darkness of the hall.
His jet black hair fell messily around his pale face, his teeth were all pointed and he wore a stripped cone over his nose. His eyes were outlined in black makeup that streamed slightly down his cheeks, as though he had cried. He wore a ragged black and grey shirt over a black and white striped long sleeve. His shoulder pads were decorated with black and white feathers; his lips were badly outlined with some sort of black paint. His pale eyes gleamed with amusement as he practically whispered four terrifying words. ‘’My game has begun.’’546Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjlC27z2tz0ns 188.8.131.52da2