Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 2 Amusement Park Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 31, 2021

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When you're a clown, everyone is laughing at you, never with you. And the clown is fucking sick of it. Which is how we got here. With the clown standing in a room with three 20-somethings, all of them tied to chairs, gags over their mouths, crying silently after they finally gave up screaming. It was closing time when the three friends decided to hide out so they could have a little more fun at the Smoor Fun Park.

The clown found them and told them they needed to leave, but they couldn't help themselves. They laughed in his face. With his curly cotton candy hair, giant yellow shoes, and bright red nose, it was too much to take seriously. The clown snapped. He pulled out a crowbar and clocked them over the head.

When everyone woke up, it was hostage time in the basement of the spooky house of horrors. The clown screamed for a while, ranting about respect and dignity. The hostages groaned, cried, and screamed. Snot and saliva gathered on the gags in their mouths. When the clown thought about the situation for a while, he knew he had made a bit of a tactical error.

He was angry, and that anger was valid. But damn, if he didn't have a whole mess of problems on his hands, now that he had three people he needed to disappear. But that was a problem for later. Now, it was time for revenge. Pay attention, bitches! He said in his high, nasally voice, You think it's funny to laugh at me?

Yeah. Well, now I'm going to laugh at you. The clown pulled out a knife and walked over to one of the hostages, She quivered and tried to pull away, but she was tied fast to the ropes. I'm going to cut your ropes, the clown said. Attempt to escape, and you'll find that the doors are locked, and that I'm not nice when you piss me off. Standing behind her, the clown grabbed her bindings with one hand and sawed them off.

As soon as the last rope was severed, the clown reached up with his free hand and grabbed the woman by the back of her neck. He yanked her out of the chair, guiding her quickly towards the middle of the room. In front of the other hostages, he threw her roughly to the ground. She lay there, mulling softly, blood dripping from her lip. Stand up! The clown said in a sing-song voice, she didn't move. The clown walked over to another hostage and, without hesitation, stabbed him in the arm.

The hostage screamed. Stand up, or I'll stab him again, the clown said. The woman got her hands under her and pushed herself up, slowly standing in the middle of the room. She kept her arms tightly wrapped around her body, her eyes looking at the ground. Better, the clown said. Now, take off your gag and tell you. me your name. She removed the filthy cloth from her mouth and mumbled something incoherent. The clown stabbed the other hostage in the arm again. The scream was even

worse the second time. Speak up so we can all hear you, the clown said. Kate, she said. Kate Wilson. Wonderful, the clown said. Time for your next task, Kate. And remember what happens when you don't do it correctly. You need to take off your clothes, all of them. No time for the timid, shy bashful bullshit. Take everything off or the next stab will find a different home in this idiot's body. Kate started shaking. Her body looking so weak that it might fall back to the floor. She looked up for the first time at the clown and the hostage she was using as a sheath. The clown looked at her and started to raise the knife higher, caressing the male hostage's ear with the blade. Wait, I'm sorry. Stop! Kate yelled. I'll do it. The clown looked

at her and began tapping his foot. The oversized shoe made a slight squeaking noise with each tap. Kate unzipped her hoodie and threw it on the floor, followed by her shirt. She unbucked buckled her belt and removed her jeans, the metal buckle making a clinking noise as it hit the ground. She paused and looked up at the clown, who nodded at her and prodded the man next to him in the ear with a knife. With a sob, Kate undid her bra and slid it down her arms. With tears pouring down her face, she removed her underwear. She quickly put one arm across her chest and the other over her crotch. The clown laughed.

Hold your hands out straight to the sides, he said, emphasizing his point with another jab to his captive's ear. Kate moved her hand straight out to the sides. The clown quickly moved over to her. The knife held to his side. He walked a full circle around Kate and laughed the loud, nasally laugh of a clown. You look at me and laugh, but when's the last time you took a good look at yourself?

Look at you. Nothing you see on me is as ridiculous as you. The clown said. Kate's eyes grew wide and surprise. With a quick movement, the clown reached out and grabbed the flesh right above Kate's hip, squeezing it viciously. Look he don't.

this flab. The clown said through manic laughter. Can you even count this as a muffin top? Your waist is like a damn weeping willow. The clown shook his head, laughing as Kate screamed. The clown let go of his grip and walked behind Kate, his laugh catterwalling through

the open space. He bent down and grabbed the back of her thigh. Kate screamed and jumped. And this? The clown continued. Do you see all these stretch marks? The clown lifted the knife and slowly slid it along several lines in Kate's skin. The bottom Some of your ass looks like a road map of New York City.

Although, with all that cellulite, no one would be able to drive anywhere without hitting speed bumps the size of tanks. Giving Kate's thigh a final jiggle. The clown released it. He finished circling Kate and moved back in front of her. And these? He growled, his laugh turning more sinister by the second.

These fat bags you carry around, who would want to grab a handle of tits like these? The clown stroked the outside of them with his knife. Kate shuddered, suppressing a sob. They aren't even the same size. The clown said through a cartooning guffaw. And the nipples? They're just ew.

Kate started sobbing while the clown laughed more raucously than ever. How can you point at me and laugh? Looking like you do. The clown asked. Kate kept crying while the clown stared at her. Answer me! The clown screamed. Yellow spit flew from his mouth,

splattering on Kate's hair and skin. Turning away, the clown walked back over to the hostage he had been stabbing. Without pausing, he reached out, pulled the man's head back by the hair and slashed his neck open with his knife. Blood spurred it out of the gash, steaming hot in the chilly basement. The clown let out a laugh that was more of a screech, then kicked a chair over so that it fell on its side. The body tied to it, slumped over lifelessly. The other hostage, who had been almost comatose through the entire process, began screaming.

The clown whirled and stalked towards her. Bloody knife held out at the ready. Reaching the final hostage's chair, he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. A smile crept across his face. It rapidly disappeared as he was tackled from behind. Kate crashed into him, seizing the opportunity. The pair crashed to the ground. The clown's purple fuzz-adorned head cracking against the cement floor.

Kate shot forward, grabbing the knife and yanking it from the clown's hand. The clown, groggy from the blow to his head, flailed at her, swinging his arms wildly. But this wasn't enough to stop Kate. She plunged the knife into his eye, ripping it back out. She watched the clown squirm, his energy rapidly fading. She bent down over him, lips close to his ear that she could make sure that he heard. Do you think you said something I don't already tell myself 20 times a day? I get enough messages every day that I'm not pretty enough to be valuable.

I don't need some fuckhead like you, adding their voice to the chorus. Kate checked the clown's pockets and found keys. Hopefully one of them would get them out of this hellhole. Kate stood up, went over to her friend, and untied the ropes. As soon as she was free, her friend jumped up and the two stepped out of the basement and into the night. Hey guys, I want to take a second to shout out some of my newest patrons, Ryder 551, Lucas, and Byron. You guys are totally awesome.

I seriously appreciate your support, and I hope you appreciate the ad-free podcast episodes and bonus episodes that you now have full access to on my Patreon page. For those of you who are interested, go on over to my Patreon page at patreon.com slash DR No Sleep to sign up today. That's patreon.com slash DR No Sleep, and now back to the story. The pacing in the hay maze is starting to get to me.

It has this slow, steady rhythm to it that creeps into you. At first, it's so subtle that you don't notice it, but when you finally do, it's like you can't stop noticing it. It won't leave you alone. I've been working at Smoor Fun Park for almost four weeks. Night security at a small amusement park is easy work, especially when you aren't located in a big city.

No one wants to drive out to some small town, just so they can break into a subpar amusement park. I do my rounds, watch the cameras, and drink a lot of coffee. We're hitting October, so management decided it would be a good idea to set up a hay maze for the Halloween spirit. I didn't have to do any of the heavy lifting, but it did add a change up to my routine. I was in charge of the nighttime security of the hay maze. I would sit atop a tall watchtower and blast a big spotlight on the maze to make sure no one was hanging around or hiding in there. Not sure why they would anyway, but hey, you just never know.

During the first couple weeks, I didn't notice anything majorly weird. I caught one couple thinking it'd be cute to have sex in the hay maze after it was closed. One blast of the spotlight, and they were high-tailing it over the hay bale walls and off into the woods. I didn't even bother calling the cops. Figured the embarrassment was punishment enough. I'm all for sex, but keep your genitals out of my hay maze. Sometime during the third week, I started hearing the pacing. As soon as I could tell they were footsteps, I ran over to the watchtower and threw on the spotlight.

I ran the spotlight up and down every pathway but saw nothing. Whoever was in there must have heard me and run off. Good. The fewer confrontations, the better. The next night, it was the same deal. Heard the footsteps, threw on the spotlight, and nothing. Night after night, same thing. The fourth night, I was ready.

I waited in the watchtower, hand on the spotlight's lever, waiting. The second I heard the footsteps, I threw on the switch and powered up the light. I caught the bastard in my beam. When I hit him, he froze mid-step. I could tell right off the bat that he was a giant of a man, much taller than I was. His clothes looked rough, some flappy red shirt covered in stains, and threadbare blue pants. It seemed like the guy was maybe a little too into the Halloween spirit, wearing a skull mask that covered his entire head. After pausing for a moment, the guy began walking again. He was almost to the wall of a dead end. When he reached it, he bumped into it softly,

turned around, and started walking back the other way. When he turned, I could see the front of his face. On his skull mask, he had painted on two black circles like large eyes and a mouth painted on in black that appeared hurriedly done. The creep kept walking back and forth, pinballing off of the walls at each end. It seemed as though he didn't care about the light at all. Clearly, something was off with this guy. Hey, buddy, I yelled from the watchtower. You need to clear out. Come back tomorrow when we're open. He didn't react. Hey, asshole, I yelled. Move along. He kept pacing, not even so much as a hesitation. Smoor Fun Park's policies to try to shoe off trespassers first, to avoid any legal weirdness. So, leaving the spotlight, I headed down to the hay maze.

I pulled out the nightstick, grabbed my flashlight, and traversed the labyrinth. Hustling in, I could still hear the steady footfalls. The psycho still hadn't stopped his pacing. Sneaking to the edge of the intersection where my path meant the one that he was on, I waited until his footsteps sounded farther away and stepped into his path. I put the beam of my flashlight on his back and he froze in place. He quickly pivoted on his foot and turned around to face me. I opened my mouth to yell at him, but my voice was caught in my throat, couldn't escape.

The skull mask he was wearing looked so real, so vividly detailed, that I couldn't help holding my breath in horror as I stared at it. The empty eye sockets of the skull looked deep, like they went in deeper than they should be able to on a mask. He began walking towards me. I wanted to run. I really did, but my body wouldn't move. It was like this giant man in his horrifying outfit had some disturbing hypnotism to him. I was frozen in place. As he walked closer, I came to yet another shocking conclusion.

He wasn't wearing a mask. The man's skull was on full display, and somehow he was still alive. I screamed. As he came within a few feet of me, I found myself staring up into his face. He looked down at me and smiled. Hands reaching out, he grabbed the sides of my head and pulled me closer. The jaw of his skull hinged open, yawning wide as he lowered his face towards mine. I was completely frozen in terror. I could feel the teeth of his skull began to press into skin of my cheek and I began to scream again. As the pressure increased, my cheek was pushed past its limit and split, allowing the teeth to pierce my flesh. As the skull tore off the first chunk of my face, my screams became gurgles. The last thing I saw was the skull chewing a wad of my

face. I woke up in my bed. It was mid-afternoon when I usually woke up for my shift. I could tell immediately that something was wrong. My face felt stiff. My head didn't lay on my pillow right. I won't touch my face. I won't look in a mirror. I know that monster ate my face, and somehow I'm still alive. But I can't see it myself. That would shatter me.

And I need to keep it together until I can get some food in me. I'm absolutely starving, and I need some fresh meat. Lazzang surgellé, puissance-moleaned, for 15 minutes. We're like to dojo.

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