Scary Killer Clown Stories Novels & Stories

While presiding over a transnational meeting, I received a distressing call from my daughter's kindergarten teacher. "Mrs. Payton, a kid drew a massive clown on Anna's face during nap time! No matter how much I try to wash it off, it won't come off!" I immediately rushed to the kindergarten. My daughter, Anna Payton, was sobbing at the door. Her usually fair and tender face was now red and swollen. The clown drawing on it was particularly eye-catching.

Everyone was happy until they played a game which they shouldn’t have The fun they were having wasn’t enough for them, they desired for some scare and that they got. They decided to tell each other spooky stories. The oldest kid among them told the story of what happened to the owners of the house—of course he didn’t tell it as it happened because no one knows what exactly happened and so to fill that void he added more than he should to the story to make it spookier—it’s not like you could blame the kid

“You should not drive here alone, especially in the woods. Several bad creatures were wondering nowadays.” He stepped his shoes into the dead body and remove the arrow that hits the man. “What is that?” I curiously asked while pointing a finger at the dead man. “An amateur vampire.” He sighed. “Go home, kid before you could meet another creature here. I heard off this place has a lot of werewolves.” I was completely surprised. Several different creatures were now freely exposing their faces. I just met a sorcerer and now a vampire. “Umm, thank you for helping me. My name is Clark.” I politely extended my hand.

If I had to guess, they probably didn’t get very many visitors down here. “Usss too.” It said back to me, and I swore I could hear a hint of sadness in the piercing voice. The answer left me confused, and even more shaken than I already was. These were the beings my village told ghost stories about. Horrible, malformed, and endlessly vicious creatures that had tried to kill their own mothers. They were the things that went bump in the night, and attacked without a second thought. What would they have to be scared of?

I growled. My hostile demeanor made him step back a little in fear. "That --that was what we think it was," he stammered. My face instantly flushed red in anger and impatience. "Look, chief. We spend a rough number of months investigating these serial killings, only to come up with a clause that the killer was a goblin? Chief, the people all over the world were asking for some substantial kind of news! And not the ones that were made out of superstitious beliefs or even scary bedtime stories!" I made a point of saying.

That is what I thought but… it would be more scary if I did find something weird on it. I sometimes watch movies like when the protagonist finds a mysterious room inside the killer’s house and ends up having tons of dead bodies in it. Oh, I remember one manhwa about a killer who likes to peel onions so that the smell of the blood will not reek off him. He liked his neighbor who is a newspaper writer, he invited him for dinner but ended up discovering a room full of dead bodies. It was an amazing story actually. Hah, I now wonder if his library has some stories like that.

Well dear readers, did you miss me? Have you experienced laughing so hard because you’ve heard a ghost story from former critics of your ghost stories? This is one of the stories that really made me laugh for the same reason. It comes from another one of my human friends. And yes, this is a scary but funny story. ++++++++++++++ The storytellers this time are gay guys - all cross-dressers - who were with us in our theater productions. There were three of them and they didn’t believe in ghosts. They said that they couldn’t feel, hear, or see them anyway.

He answered her, his orbs filled with pain while he tried to take his mind away from the problem that we were looking at. “Yeah, there was a rumor about an occult club that deals with kidnapping babies, and I heard they drain the blood out of the babies to celebrate their victory or initiation, I don’t know how true that was, but trust me, that was the talk of the town for weeks before it finally died down.” She started, irritation ran through my blood while my face mirrored what is was feeling, PURE DISGUST.

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.

Three idiots in clown masks, staring at me like I was the prize in some deranged carnival game. Red mask. Blue mask. Yellow mask. Fucking fantastic. Out for ten minutes and I'd been kidnapped by the rainbow alliance of human trafficking. "Uhhhhh, if you have something to say then just say it already," I said, deadpan. "Is this robbery or rape? Or did someone tell you guys to kidnap me for some money?" "This girl is quite brave," Red Clown said, voice too pleased. Blue Clown leaned closer. "We just thought you looked nice and want to have a good time. We're very kind to beautiful women."