Triple S Day, Tina Style!

Triple S = Short Story Saturday, in case you hadn’t picked that up yet. So Kris started Triple S so he could share some of his creative juice with the world. He asked me if I was ever planning on writing something on it.

Nawh man, I didn’t sign up to write more than one post every other week bro! Yet here I am, writing something. *sigh* That man has the sweetest puppy dog eyes. So, a word of warning before you read any more. I tend to write things that are creepy or more adult in nature.

 

Today I would like to bring you into my living nightmares. The dark parts of my life that only I get to experience. The constant worry, caution, and alertness that keeps me from ever getting a full nights rest. You are going to be giving yourself over to me. Letting my eyes become your eyes. Letting me hear for you. Letting you feel the claws that reach out toward you in the night. Let me start by telling you about Bobo. Bobo is in his mid to late thirties. As the name might suggest, he is in fact a clown. Bobo doesn’t have any one hair color, it changes every time I see him. His face is always stark white with the faintest hint of gray blue underneath. His eyes, mouth and nose are accented with a rusted iron red. You know, the color of dried blood. His posture is slumped and he walks in an odd alternating hobble. His voice changes from higher pitched to low rumbling when he gets angry, and he gets angry about everything. I first met him when I was 7 after falling out of a tree. Mom hard rejected the pain meds the ER gave her for me. However, after a full 24 hours of a crying 7 year old in pain, she gave in. That is when I discovered him as I tried to go to my room when I was tired. He stopped me and with his dulled, brown and broken teeth and rotten milk smelling breath, his bloodshot eyes looked me over and he shrugged.

“Alright kid, hand over your fingers. I need to nibble something off.” He wasn’t scary to me at the time, just like one of the adults I was used to dealing with from mom’s work or daycare.

I sat down and tucked my hands into my crossed legs. Being sure to keep my toes hidden as well. “No thank you. Why do you need to nibble something off?”

He looked me over again and sat back. “It’s the rules, I am a cannibal and I have to eat little kids who see me in hallways.” His face seemed shocked, like no one had ever asked him before.

“What is a cannibal? Is it another way to say clown?” I was careful to not shift into the hallway.

“No, I mean, I am a clown but I am a Cannibalistic Clown. It means I eat humans. Mostly little kids. They are the easiest to chew as their bones are still a little chewy.” His voice echoing the ideas that the doctor might have talked about at the ER. I sat there continuing the conversation until my mother realized that I was not in bed and it was now 10 pm. My little brother having long since given up trying to talk to me. The hallway was dark and my mother hesitant to interrupt.

“Christina, why are you not in bed?” She started helping me stand up.

“Because Bobo the Cannibalistic Clown said that even though I am a nice girl he would have to eat me if I went into the hallway.”

My mother stunned at the use of the word Cannibalistic from her 7 year old. Paused for a moment to discover a comeback to my crazy. “Well, how about I walk with you?”

I looked to Bobo for confirmation. “Nope,” I said sadly, “He said that he would just wait til you left and waste my blood on the floor and come after you next, Under your bed.” I struck some cord in her fear as she went white.

“Well, what can we do?” She whispered.

I look to my new friend and seemed to be given an answer. “Well, he says we could sacrifice a chicken, because he is scared of chickens.”

My mother went and got a stuffed chicken, returned and with a satisfied nod I showed it to Bobo. I smiled wide and turned to my mother. “He says even though he is scared of chickens he wants to visit me again. So if I just keep the chicken I will be safe.” And off I walked to bed. My mother did not tuck me in that night. He came back lots of times. Even still. He is the oldest of my vision friends. People only I can see.

What scares you?

Author: keyboardcouple

A couple who write and learn in front of their keyboards.

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