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Some kind of Stephen King cliche

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Some kind of Stephen King cliche Empty Some kind of Stephen King cliche

Post by The Bolt on October 19th 2017, 2:37 pm

Halloween, normally a holiday where kids dressed up and got candy by walking up to peoples houses for candy. Alex fondly remembered those days, even if he wasn’t exactly in the age range where that aspect of the holiday had any real appeal. It was more high school kids occasionally dressing up but mostly taking this time to sneak away from parents and trying to get drunk through whatever ill gotten means they had. Which of course always brought up the mental question if he would get drunk faster or be unable to get drunk at all considering the whole fast metabolism. Instead he was talking urban rumors about weird clowns and kidnappings. ”Evil clown kidnapping people in Chicago. You’re not like messing with me, are you Rob?”

”Mostly children but yeah. I’m being totally serious.” Alex furrowed his brows, phone pressed to his ear, watching the people walk past him on their nightly whatevers. ”Think i’m making this up?” Of course his friend was normally not someone to make things up, but then again child kidnapping clowns sounded more like they belonged in the pages of some weird Stephen King novel. Not that he would have wanted to deal with any demon clowns that lived in the sewers, because that just sounded less than pleasant. If only because he hated clowns and everything about them.

”It totally sounds like you made things up.” Alex responded, a few kids running past him in their little costumes with put off parents only a few steps behind them. Future victims for this evil child stealing clown, but then again that was why he was here to stop this. Considering the kidnappings had been happening around a similar location, a small park where a few of the more occult inclined websites on the internet accused of being a haunted location.

”Am not. You’ll see, just wait there till like...midnight.” of course he had to wait till the spookiest hour of the night, and when his parents would be asking more questions than he would have cared for. ”Don’t worry, I already told your parents you’re at my place.” It was almost as if he was psychic to some degree.

”Whatever. I’ll give the place a look around before I do anything like a stake out.” He hung up his phone, slipping the device into his pocket and began pacing around the park. Looking over the small sections where the swings, slide and various play instruments were. There had to be something that could prove to be a clue.
The Bolt
The Bolt

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