Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Carnival of Omens A Haunted Night of Tarot, Death, and the Grinning Clown's Secret #29

Episode Date: August 2, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #hauntedcarnival #tarotmystery #deathomens #grinningclown #darksecrets  On a moonlit night, the carnival promised fun and fortune, but the tarot reader’s cards foretold something far darker—death looming close. As laughter turns to screams, a grinning clown’s secret emerges from the shadows, revealing a horror hidden behind the colorful tents. This story blends supernatural terror with psychological dread, weaving a haunting narrative of fate, fear, and the eerie omens that can’t be escaped. The carnival’s lights may dazzle, but its shadows hide nightmares that no one can outrun.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, hauntedcarnival, tarothorror, deathomens, sinisterclown, darkmystery, carnivalterror, supernaturalhorror, eeriesecrets, psychologicalhorror, nightmarish, fateandfear, hauntedfunfair, chillingstory, creepyclown

Lice non-stop. So don't let colds and flu stop you. For over 40 years, powerful UniFlu has helped clear congestion, runny noses, reduce aches, pains, fever and relieve headaches and cough. And vitamin C is built in to boost immune systems. So give cold and flu the old 1-2 with UniFlu. Available from local pharmacies. Always read the leaflet. There's so much rugby on Sports Exter from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lot at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end.

Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam back with rugby. For the first time we've bet every Champions Cup match exclusively live Plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup and much more. That's the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jam packed with rugby.

Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard pricing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. My friend, Janice, and I had known the Carnival was coming to town for weeks. She tried to get out of the cramped trailer she lived in with her parents as much as possible to avoid her alcoholic father. My father worked so much to try to make ends meet

that he barely noticed me anyway, and my mother was sick with cancer, a skeletal figure who lay in her room dying in front of a constantly flickering TV. My little brother, Brent, who, at nine, was two years younger than me and Janice, followed me like a lost puppy, begging me to come to the carnival with us. Finally, a few minutes before we left, I acquiesced. We met Janice under the brightly lit sign curving overhead. It read, Pogo's Carnival and Rides. People streamed in and out in packed crowds, pushing past us as the dusk crawled in overhead. I saw Janice had a nasty purple bruise on her left arm in the shape of a hand.

She saw me looking and nervously pulled her sleeve up to her wrist. What happened? I asked. She shook her head. I just fell off my bike. Janice responded coldly, not meeting my eyes. You sure do fall a lot, I observed. She gave me an icy glance as we headed toward the ticket booth.

It's because girls can't ride bikes. Brent exclaimed sagely. I had saved my allowance money for weeks to be able to come to the carnival. I pulled out the wad of crumpled one dollar bills from my pocket, counting them out and handing them to the tattooed man behind the glass partition. He waved us through, and with that, we were inside. The three of us stopped to get friend dough and slushies on the way to the rides. In the no-man's land between the food stands and the rides, there was a line of tent stretching

out in both directions, most of them covered in brightly colored canvas. One of them caught Brent's attention instantly. It said Rosemary's tarot and had an enormous blown-up picture of the hanged man in front of it, his face radiating a beatific light as he hung suspended upside down on the cross. I want to see the future. Brent exclaimed excitedly, hopping up and down as if trying not to wet his pants. Can we go? I nodded. Janice rolled her eyes.

Those things are all scams, she said. It's just like fortune cookies. All they do is say stuff so vague that it could apply to nearly anyone. But she followed us inside, past the purple covering of the tent and into an inner chamber lit by hundreds of black candles formed in a semicircle around the perimeter. An old woman with a face like a withered raisin sat there, staring up at the ceiling with glazed, faraway eyes. She looked at me when she heard the jingling of the change in my pockets, but at the same time,

it seemed that she looked through me. Good evening, children, she said in a voice as dry as old leather. Have a seat, and let's see what the stars have in store for you. Nervously, the three of us sat in front of the woman. I handed her a ticket. She inspected it for a long time with her olish blue eyes before secreting it away in an inner pocket of her many shawls. She pulled out a very old, very worn deck of tarot cards, placing a thin hand carefully on top of them. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

In a strange, wavering voice, she droned, O spirits, let us see the true nature of all things. Let us show these little ones what hides behind the veil. She pulled the cards out, placing them on the table before us in a cross shape, her eyes widening with each one. Oh, children, I am sorry to say the stars are not in your favor, there are great trials in store for all of you, she said, her eyes hooded and unreadable as she flipped over one card after another. The Devil Card It shows that you will be tempted by a powerful spirit. You must not be led astray. Do not throw away your immortal soul for a few moments of folly.

The death card shows that you will have a radical change in your life. But death is not only an end, she flipped over the rest of the cards faster and faster, her eyes flying open as she stared down at them. She inhaled sharply. All of you children are in great danger, she's not. said, all the blood draining from her face. With trembling fingers, she massaged her temples, running them in slow circles over her forehead. I have never seen such horrific omens for such innocent little ones. Beware of those who come to you wearing masks upon masks. At that moment,

a loud crack reverberated through the air, as if a firework had just exploded outside the tent. A long moment of deathly silence followed it. Then the screaming started. Call an ambulance, a woman screamed in a high, shrill voice reigned with panic. Oh my God, someone help him. My brother, Janice and I jumped up at the same moment, running out of the tent to see the cause of all the commotion. The old woman yelled something after us, her thin, trembling hands still held over her worn tarot cards, but we ignored her. There was a crowd gathered around a tent across the way with the faith. Lice non-stop, so don't let Coles and Flu stop you.

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And use the latest scanning technology to custom-make orthotics, designed for your unique feet. If you want to free your feet in joints from pain, improve balance or correct alignment, book a free foot assessment at footsolutions.com or pop-in store today. Food Solutions, the first step towards pain-free feet. ...of a grinning clown plastered on the front of it. The people murmured in a soft voice as two security guards

came speedwalking over, their faces pale and covered in sweat. One of them raised his hands, trying to push the people back, but they milled around like sheep with open mouths. A man just shot himself back there, one of the security guards yelled over the single voice of the crowd. You all need to back up. This is a crime scene. Off in the distance, I heard the faint wailing of sirens. There was a break in the crowd. Under the bright glare of the carnival's lights, I saw the body of the man.

Half of his face was gone, just a ragged patch of blue. bloody, glistening muscle and bone. His right I was missing, but his left still stared up blindly at the mannequin of a clown wrapping a rope around the plastic body of a young boy. The rope trick, blood-red letters exclaimed overhead. I looked above the grinning face of the clown on the outside of the tent, seeing what kind of spectacle it advertised within. Pogo's serial killer memorabilia, it read, See the original VW bug of Ted Bundy. Behold the actual rope John Wainst Gacy used to strangle his victims. Look at Lawrence Bittaker's real pliers, still covered in his victim's blood.

The security guards pulled a crying woman from the tent. She looked shell-shocked, her wide, unseeing eyes sweeping over the crowd over and over. She kept muttering to herself. He said he would bring him back, healed, she wailed in a stream of insane gibberish. He promised, the police came in a. a few minutes later, pushing people aside in their rush to get to the man. I saw paramedics trailing after them. Brent was jumping up and down excitedly, trying to see. I want to see the clown tent, he exclaimed loudly, drawing disapproving looks from the shocked people around us.

I shook my head, pulling him away. Janice followed close behind me. There's a dead guy in there, I said. You don't want to see that. Yes, I do, he answered. excitedly. I want to see the body. I felt sick all of a sudden, pulling my little brother's arm. No, you don't. Maybe we should just leave, I said. Janice looked pale as well. She nodded. Yeah, that was kind of, she began, her voice trailing off. A clown stood there waving at us next to the brightly lit rides, his face a mask of red and white paint. He looked identical to the clown I had seen in that serial killer tent, the one doing the rope trick, which apparently involved strangling someone while they were bound and helpless.

All right, let's go, I said, grabbing Brent's wrist and pulling him alongside us. He whined as we left, but not about the rides. I glanced back, seeing the clown still staring eerily in our direction with a grin like a slice from a knife. I want to see the dead body. Brent kept crying over and over as made our way home. home. We left by the front gate, circling around to the dirt trails behind the carnival that led their way back towards downtown. Dozens of police, ambulance and fire trucks were

still assembled at the front. It was already well past dusk, but a full moon illuminated the trail in a pale, skeletal light. Janice and I were quiet, lost in thought, but Brent was still jabbering excitedly. Wait until I tell my friends that a man killed himself at the carnival, he said. So cool. Janice came to an abrupt stop in front of me. I looked up, shocked at what I saw. A black cat hung there. Someone had wrapped a thin, metal cord tightly around its neck, biting deeply into the flesh.

Its mouth hung open, one eyelid half closed, the other staring ahead with frozen terror and agony. Its left ear looked short and ragged, as if a piece of it had been bitten off but healed over time. I noticed its front right paw was missing as well, though this wound looked fresh. A sharp piece of ragged bone poked out through the folds of mutilated, clotted flesh. Oh no, I whispered, feeling sick and weak staring at it. I looked over at Janice, seeing the same horror reflected on her face. Her bright blue eyes had started to tear. I watched as a silvery tear wound its way down her cheek.

Behind us, I heard the cracking of a twig I turned... There's so much rugby on sports extra from Sky They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live

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A brightly dressed clown standing there Red hair stuck up in points far above his wide, friendly face Even through the striped blue and white clown suit I could see he was extremely fat with squinty, pig-like eyes White makeup covered his head with red paint accentuating his eyes and mouth in sharp points He looked eerily similar to the clown that had been waving to us but I couldn't be sure if it was the same one.

The clown's excited grin faltered when he saw the dead cat hanging there, swinging from side to side in the light breeze. Why would you children hurt such a helpless little creature? The clown asked in a deep, raspy voice. Do you children have no compassion for the small and defenseless? He slowly ambled towards us, his extra long red shoes thudding against the ground. His dark eyes narrowed into angry slits. I thought the clown would smack me in the face for a second, but instead, he only stood there.

A moment later, he leaned forward. Like a sleepwalker, the clown reached into his pocket and withdrew a curving silver dagger. I backed away, afraid he would cut my throat, but he just walked past us. He neared the cat, slicing it down with practiced ease. I heard the blade whipped through the air and the wet thud of meat as the cat's rigid body hit the carpeted floor of leaves. The clown lifted the rope, swinging the dead cat in his right hand from side to side, staring fixedly at the three of us. What's your name, kiddos, he rasped, his painted face still grim and unsmiling.

I'm Max, and this is my brother Brent, and this is Janice, I said, taking a small step away from this strange figure. The clown leaned forward, the cat bobbing in a wide arc around his feet, its blue tongue sticking out of lips that looked like they might have been silently screaming. Okay, Mr. Max, Mr. Brent, Miss Janice, I believe you, the clown said seriously, pulling a white canvas bag out of seemingly nowhere with his left hand. The white gloves he wore made soft swishing sounds as he waved it, causing it to expand with the rush of air. He never took his eyes off of us, never seemed to blink. But what are we to do with this little guy? He never hurt anyone. He didn't deserve this, did he? Janice and I should. shook our heads in unison. Brent just stared open-mouthed at the tall clown grinning down at us. Abruptly, the clown ripped open the top of the canvas bag.

With a ferocious smile, he shoved the cat head first into the white canvas bag. I heard its bones break with dull popping sounds like the cracking of branches as the clown struggled with the rigid corpse. I gasped, horrified at what I was seeing. Janice took a step back, looking like she might turn and run at any sense. second. I wasn't too far behind her at that moment. We will send him to the gardens where pure rivers flow and the sky sings with music. He will drink deeply from the fountain of life and come back, healed, the clown said, his eyes growing distant and far away as the cold body of the cat

finally slipped inside. At that moment, I thought that we had certainly encountered a madman. But then something strange happened. Once the cat disappeared into the bag, the clown pulled the drawstrings on the top shut and gently laid it on the ground. He got on his hands and knees before the still canvas bag and breathed into the small black opening left in the top. Brent nervously disappeared behind me, grabbing my wrist tightly. I watched the clown carefully. At that moment, I thought I saw something like black smoke flitting between his painted lips under the moonlit sky. Suddenly, the bag was writhing and jumping on the ground. The clown yanked opened the drawstrings, and the black cat came running out, alive and filled with frenetic energy.

To this day, I would swear on my life that it was the same exact cat, the one I had just seen hanging rigid and dead from a cable tied to a tree branch. It had the same white spot on its back in the same position. But now its ear and mutilated paw were healed, the flesh they're looking totally unharmed and new. It gave us a terrified backwards glance, its wild, panicked eyes roaming over me and Janice and falling on the clown. As soon as the cat saw the clown, it emitted a screech of mortal terror, hissing and spitting as it disappeared into the bushes. How did you do that? Janice asked, open-mouthed. The clown gave a wide grin. His eyes appeared black, the iris is so dark that they simply faded into the pupil. He raised a white, gloved hand above

Janice's hand. I could see that it had specks of the dead cats' blood spattering its palm. First, let me introduce myself, the clown said in a theatrical manner, swinging his white canvas bag in a circle. I'm not only a clown, but also a magician. The magic I practice is more than just tricks and illusions, however. I tap into the source of all things. He tapped my heart as he said this. People call me Mr. Hands. He raised his ridiculously large white gloves for emphasis, getting a small chuckle out of me in Brent. There's so much rugby on sports extra from Sky.

They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the U.S. and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra.

Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Stand up pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Don't let foot pain or discomfort hold you back. At Foot Solutions, we specialize in high-quality supportive footwear.

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Okay, Mr. Hans, Janice said skeptically, her eyes coldly scanning his face, if that was a magic trick, how could you have possibly prepared it? Did you kill a cat and keep a replacement one in your bag? He laughed, reaching into his canvas bag and pulling out a bouquet of black roses with sharp spikes. He got one knee,

handing them with exaggerated theatrical swagger to Janice. I am sorry you would think such a horrid thing of me, Mr. Hand said, his lips forming into an exaggerated frown. But, Miss Janice, how would I have possibly known that a man would shoot himself in the carnival, causing you three to have to leave early and come down this exact forest path? She scowled, her eyes narrowing. You're right, she whispered. How did you know a man shot himself? I asked suspiciously, have you been following you? Have you been following? us. I see everything, Mr. Max, he said, and his eyes seemed to glow with a pale inner light. I blinked and it was gone. I wondered if I had imagined it. I have real magic within me.

My only goal in life is to bring that magic to the sick and weak. I love healing, but I can only heal those who go beyond the veil and come back. Do you see, I glanced over at Janice, seeing the confusion I felt reflected on her face. No, I asked. If you have real magic within you, can you heal my mother? She's really sick, and my daddy, Janice said, looking down at her bruised arm. Real magic is in the heart, in the soul, Mr. Hand said. It comes out like rushing water.

You can feel it ripping its way through your body. It is pure power and happiness, but, it seems wrong, I said. said, Are you saying that they need to be strangled like the cat to be healed? Mr. Hans laughed uproariously at that, slapping his massive gloved hand down on my shoulder. No, of course not, Mr. Max. People have more dignity than animals, he said, and like a magic trick, the curving silver dagger appeared in his hand. The knife is better.

Much more personal. Just a quick slice across the throat dash, he drew a long finger across my jugular at this and then I'll bring them back, totally healthy and healed, just like the cat. I travel around the country helping children like you. Many have seen miracles beyond imagining. I'll do it, Brent whispered next to me, his eyes wide and hypnotized. He held out a small hand to the clown. With a grin like a knife blade, Mr. Hans placed the dagger into Brent's palm. No, Brent. I yelled, jumping forward to stop him, but I felt. felt a hard shove from behind. I went flying forward, my head slamming hard into a rock. I groaned,

feeling the air get knocked out of my lungs in a great whoosh. As clouds of blackness descended over me, I saw Janice standing over me, her eyes wild and scared like those of an animal's, her lips set in a grim line of determination. I awoke in the darkness, feeling something cold and sticky on my forehead. I raised my head gingerly to my temples, wincing. When I drew them back, they were covered in slick spots of scarlet. For a long moment, I lay there without thoughts, wondering how I had gotten here on this dark forest trail. Then my memories came rushing back. I inhaled sharply as I remembered Mr. Hans. I quickly pushed myself up, my head swimming. A splitting migraine worked its way down my skull, but I stumbled forward, pushing myself towards downtown where Brent and I lived.

Janice lived in the same trailer park, only a few rows down, so I hoped I would be able to stop both of them before something horrible happened. I didn't know exactly what Mr. Hans had planned, but I didn't trust that sharp smile or those gleaming eyes. I saw the lights in the distance, and with the last of my strength, pushed myself in a blind sprint towards my home. I sprinted through the trailer park. Normally, people would have been outside, drinking or smoking or sitting and talking, but tonight, it looked totally deserted. Janice's trailer was on the outskirts of the park. I hoped against hope I would find her and Brent there and be able to talk some sense into them. They seemed to follow Mr. Hands like sleepwalkers. I flung open the door, smelling the rank odor of

old beer and stale cigarette smoke. The entire place looked as dark as death, except for a flickering TV in the far room. Terrified, I whispered into the shadows. Janice? Brent? I said, I had a little flashlight attachment I always kept on my keychain. With trembling fingers, I pulled it out,

shining its weak, pale beam around me. I crept towards the TV, past a kitchen overflowing with dirty dishes and empty beer cans and liquor bottles. On the couch, I saw D. Janice's father. For a single heartbeat, I thought he might have just been sleeping, passed out drunk. Then I saw all the blood soaking into his shirt.

His throat had been... There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. That's the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampacked with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Slashed from year to year, nearly decapitating him.

His pale, watery eyes stared up blankly, the smell of blood and alcohol thick in the fetid room. I heard hissing from behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned to see the closet door old. Hundreds of pale, skeletal hands emerged from it, creeping towards me on emaciated arms that lengthened and stretched. A scream caught in my throat as I backpedaled, afraid to look away from the monstrous scene. The closet swirled with black shadows. The space itself seemed to stretch and distort into an abyss that ran impossibly deep, extending into an eternity of empty, dark space behind the writhing arms.

I heard Janice's voice, echoing out of the darkness as if from me. very far away. It had a pleading, insane quality to it I had never heard before. Bring him back. You promised, she wailed. The reverberation stretched out, and it almost sounded as if the voice was growing far away, like Janice was being dragged deeper into that abyss. I heard Mr. Hans' laughter, but it no longer sounded as if it were coming from a human mouth. It shredded and deepened like tearing metal. It gurgled with a sick, demered. harmonic ringing. I covered my ears, trying to block out the horrible sound, but it seemed to penetrate my skull like a drill. My back hit the front door of Janice's trailer, but the hands

kept coming. Hundreds of arms covered in purple and black necrotic sores reached out towards me. They extended 20 feet, then 30. They kept coming, the white bones of the arms cracking and reforming with nauseating crackling sounds. I fumbled for the handle, two peopled. petrified to look away for even a single moment. The hands were only inches away, the fingers grasping like greedy mouths as they clenched at the empty air. I felt my palm brushed the handle, heard it click behind me. The first of the skeletal fingers grabbed at my clothes, feeling as sharp as scalpels. I fell back, hearing my shirt rip. I looked down, seeing small slices all over my chest and stomach. Scrabbling away on all fours like an animal, I fled, hearing Janice's

agonized screams echoing eerily off in the distance, sounding as if they came from another world. The laughter of Mr. Hans accompanied it, as lifeless and cold as a black hole. I tore through the dirt roads of the trailer park, not seeing a single person in the dark, lonely night. There wasn't a single insect chirping or bat flying overhead. The place looked as dead as the crater of a nuclear wasteland. I flung open the door to my home, hearing the distant whispering of voices. I heard Mr. Hans grating laughter. I stopped at the kitchen sink on the way, grabbing a soiled serrated knife, its gleaming silver surface still covered in spatters of spaghetti sauce. Sprinting blindly through the trailer, I followed the sounds into my mother's room at the back.

She was surrounded by machines, her body looking as sunken and starved as the victim of a death camp. Her enormous eyes stared out from a skull-like face, glassy and wet as they looked up at Brent with pure love. Brent, she whispered in a voice as wispy as smoke. Brent was pale and nervous, standing next to the looming figure of Mr. Hans in his brightly colored outfit. The face paint on Mr. Hans' cheeks and eyes seemed to have changed since I last saw him. It looked much sharper, formed into curving spikes, almost like the gasey mannequin in the carnival tent playing the rope trick on an unsuspecting victim. Mommy, I don't know if you can understand me, but Mr. Hans is going to make you better,

Brent whispered as a tear slipped down his cheek. In his trembling hands, I saw Mr. Hans' curved blade gleaming brightly. She will go to the gardens and drink from the water of life, and come back renewed, Mr. Hans said, putting a comforting gloved hand on Brent's shoulder. Go on, Mr. Brent. Save your mother. No. I screamed running forward

But Brent didn't even look up He prepared himself His small... There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end Here goes This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby

For the first time we've met every Champions Cup match Exclusively live plus action from the URC The Challenge Cup and much more Thus the URC and all the best European Rugby All in the same place Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra jampack with rugby Phew

That is a lot of rugby Get Sports Extra on Sky for $15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customer's only. Standup Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Body tightening with action. In a blur, the knife came down, stabbing into my mother's throat. Her hands clenched, her eyes widening as she stared up confusedly at Brent,

waves of searing agony ripping through her expression. A last breath like a hiss escaped from her mutilated neck before she started seizing, her limbs kicking and twisting in jerky movements. Mr. Hans slowly walked back towards the open closet, removing his gloves with practiced ease. Underneath, I saw two rotting hands with black and purple sores eaten into them. A sadistic grin split his face like that of a skull. The darkness inside seemed to glow, emanating a sickly, purplish light.

Brent could only stare open-mouthed at the bleeding, dying form of his mother, but I saw it all happening. Don't let him get away. I yelled, but Mr. Hans disappeared into the glowing darkness in a flash, backing into the shadows and disappearing. The many bright colors of his clown form spiraled and dissolved as the shadows ate his body like a corrosive acid. As Brent stared in horror at the writhing body of our mother,

the knife he had plunged into her neck quivering in time with her thready heartbeat, he gave a scream of primal horror. His eyes looked glassy and unreal, like the painted on eyes of a plastic doll. A forest of hands reached out, hundreds of pale, grasping hands on inhumanly thin arms that disappeared deep in the shadows. I reached out, slashing blindly, but no blood came from the mummified limbs. Thick, black sludge like a car's waste oil dripped out instead, their dark surfaces shimmering with rainbows as they spattered on the ground below us.

I grabbed Brent's thin wrist, dragging him away as he continuously screamed in horror. We had nearly made it to the door when the hands reached out, greedily snatching the air to grab Brent's small body. Thousands of fingers like razor blades approached, the sharp points of bone at the end swiping wildly at the two of us. Brent still struggled against me, crying for Mr. Hans. Mr. Hans promised he would make Mommy better. Brent wailed. Let me see Mr. Hans. Let me go. Mr. Hans is a goddamn demon, Brent, I hissed,

slashing at the arms that drew near. My heart palpitated wildly as the first of the fingers closed around Brent's wrist. Dozens more came reaching out toward me. I felt a vicious slash down my chest. Three hands tried to dig themselves in my skin, leaving deep gouges that instantly bubbled over with blood. I cried out, falling back as my bloody shirt ripped off my body. Brent followed me, landing on the floor in front of the door. Help me. Brent cried, tears and snot streaming down his face. The many cuts on my body burned like acid as I groaned. My head swam, the pounding migraine from earlier returning with a vengeance. I looked up to see Brent starting to slide towards the closet, a single skeletal hand wrapped around his wrist.

Dozens more streamed in to help. I crawled forward, feeling a thousand small agony screaming all over my flesh. I raised the knife, bringing it down onto the arm holding Brent with a sick crunching of bone. The hand holding his wrist tightened. I heard the small bones snap like twigs in Brent's arm. His face went chalk white, and for a moment, I thought he might pass out. As the inhuman arm spurredded black blood, I dragged Brent towards the front door, both of us covered in blood and injuries. His hand hung limply from his arm at a sick angle.

We fell out together into the warm night air. More hands followed us out as we crawled away, a furious, demonic scream echoing all around us in the voice of Mr. Hands. We fled, the arm stretching out of the open door towards us. Staggering, holding each other, we made a moment of the door. our way out of the trailer park and found help. A few minutes later, I heard the first of the sirens approaching. This happened decades ago, and to this day, Janice's body was never found. My brother was arrested for the murder of our mother and committed to a psychiatric institution until he was 18. We tried to tell them about Mr. Hans, but no one believed us. There was never

any evidence that another person was present at the murder, at least according to the police. I still have nightmares about that grinning clown with a smile like a knife blade to this day. And I wonder how many other gullible kids he convinced to murder for him. For, in my heart, I know there must be thousands of other victims. The end.