Creepy Clowns Stories Novels & Stories

“Too sad we will never fight.” “If this creepy guy,” I swallow, “isn't scary to you, just how scary are you?” “We're all scary baby girl. I'm just crazy. Men hate crazy,” he blows out a perfect ring. Achilles unlocked the big chains holding the man, the sound of the key echoing. As he raised his head up, the clown raises his fist, sending the first punch. This fight had started. Achilles spat out blood. “You hit good,” he says, a glean taking over his features.

The carnival smelled like sugar and popcorn and damp hay. At the haunted house entrance, someone hands me a red balloon and tells me to follow the path. Somewhere, I turned wrong. My brothers vanished. Three clowns appeared. Not funny clowns. Not circus clowns. These were fuck-ass ugly, nightmare clowns — too tall, teeth too sharp, voices wrong. Bloody knives glinted under flickering lights as they closed in. Run. I told my feet. But they were stuck. I watched them getting closer and closer. I could already feel their teeth sinking into my flesh.

"Then I would say, tell me in the next sixty seconds because we got a line from here to Milwaukie, and we need a show for our seven-thirty today." "A real live wolf-man!" It was a gamble, a real risk taker considering hunters were spotted in the area, but I needed the cash. "Well, Mr. Ardoise, would that be good enough for you seven-thirty?" Clarence paused in the counting of his notes, money stacked in little neat piles as he jotted down the pay in his ledger and handed them off to the carnies on his other line. Clarence was one of the few cryptids that I'd met besides my family and the one dryad girl by the creek. He got around easier like most earth spirits did, like the way we shifters d

“Too close. The air—it doesn’t breathe right down here.” They passed murals formed not from paint or carvings, but from growths — bark and sap frozen in shapes that hinted at stories. One showed a great tree, upside down, its roots devouring the world below. Another showed figures in flame, casting something ancient into the dark earth. And another—almost erased—showed three women standing at the edge of a hole, each bleeding from the eyes. Clara stopped. Her fingers brushed the final mural. “I’ve seen this in the journals,” she whispered. “The Daughters of the Hollow. My grandmother believed they sealed something here a thousand years ago. Not just a spirit—a will. A god that fell too far.”

His rolled up sleeves reveal the thick veins in his forearms, and the scent of him, that woodsmoke and sharp musk, seems to drift across the rows of desks, clogging my lungs. "Most writers fail because they are afraid to feel," Professor Tyler begins, his eyes snapping back to mine for a split second before moving on. "They describe a scene like a blueprint. But a story is not a blueprint. It is an experience. If you want your reader to bleed, you have to describe the coldness of the blade. If you want them to burn, you have to make them feel the heat of the skin."

She demanded, “Why! Why are you after Juniper and me.” “Well,” the clown chattered her teeth then giggled. “before you, I wanted her.” “You wanted her?” “Yes. Yes, I did.” Agatha inhaled sharply as she knew who this woman was. She paled and said, “You’re the real face snatcher.” The clown’s thrilled laughter echoed the mountain top. “Yesss! I am! Ta-da!” She waved her arms openly. “The one I killed before was just one of your subordinate. She was just imitating you.”

] [Poltergeist: My whole world just got wrecked! [The Hungry Dead: Forget this food. Lemme hug Granny for safety!] I snickered at their dumbstruck faces and slowly made my way down. “Look at yourselves! Why are you all hanging around here? Get on with your business! “Chloe, keep that coat on. Don’t catch a cold! Hungry boy, are you hungry again? Come on, let’s head downstairs. I’ll fix you some hot pickled cabbage soup! “And you!” I pointed at the poltergeist.

KAEL’S POV I let out a sigh, running a hand through my wet hair, watching the humans below, on the dance floor, swaying, grinding, drunk. The club was lit up, red and blue lights flashing around the club, the music loud enough to disturb the deaf. I swirled the wine in my glass, watching them. “Clowns,” I muttered. I have no idea what God was thinking when he created this weak but dangerous species. They were cowards but hungry vipers that wouldn't hesitate to strike their own when money or power were the stake.

Connor narrowed his eyes. It has been three years since Connor and I had been married. I was seven months pregnant, so we were trying to set up our baby's room. Connor put me in charge of the decoration, and now he is regretting his decision. "First of all, this is not a killer clown. He is Bobo the friendly neighborhood clown," I said irritably. "He is Bobo the creepy fuck, is what he is," he announced. "Connor!" Connor shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I've never told you this but, I'm afraid of clowns."

A part of her was scared for getting dump after they've had so much sex, so she was trying to hint him into proposing to her. The only way to make him listen to her was rejecting him when he was hungry for her body, because he would be willing to hit his head on the wall for her, if she made the request when he was in the mood….. The novel has lots of mature content, that can be blend into something not so R18, but still have the erotic feel. The audience started making requests for the novel to be made into a movie and hinting on how they will be ready to sell their soul to watch it, if he was the male lead.