If you read or write horror or any paranormal genre, I’m sure you’ve driven past a fantastically creepy old house and wondered what vengeful ghost walks its halls.
No one wants to read a book about murderous stalkers when they have been finding footprints in the bushes outside their bedroom window. I don't want to turn my face from a broadcast about COVID-19's death toll and open to a chapter about failed containment in World War Z.
Maybe that was all he wanted, at first—a laugh. One night of blood-soaked earth for one really great chuckle. One thing was, without a doubt, not a “maybe”: after that first day, that first great laugh, someone was going to have to stop him.
It was just too good a joke to stop telling.
The clown approaches with a balloon. Maybe we take it and share a smile, maybe the clown uses the string to strangle us, maybe we lose our senses and stab the clown.