Another Attempt at a Horror Story-A Clown at Midnight

[Guttersnipe]

I wrote a psychological horror story for Spooky Season. What are your thoughts? Anything I need to correct? Should I extend it? The idea behind my other story, "The Wrong Bus," is on the back burner (maybe it'll become a creepypasta at some point once I've made more corrections and given it more distinguishing characteristics) for now, so I'm more interested in your thoughts on this one.

"A Clown at Midnight" It was a dark November night when someone knocked on Wendy's door. Wendy, middle-aged and now positively spooked by the intrusion into her quiet routine, looked out her window. Her fears were confirmed; there was a policeman at the door. She'd grown up associating the police with tragedy. She opened the door nonetheless. She recognized the tall, handsome policeman as Officer Kersh, and her anxiety relented somewhat. Officer Kersh had always been kindly to her. She smiled awkwardly at him. "Evening, ma'am," he said, "I've been going around the neighborhood, letting people know that the...uh...Killer Clown is still at large, and has been reported as being seen in your area. You've heard about this?" "Yes, I have," she said, "Such a wicked man. He's been killing women and children, I've heard." "Yes, he has," said Kersh, who seemed a bit nervous himself, "Well, if you see anything unusual, you call us. It's good to see you, Wendy, but I have to go. Stay warm and stay safe." Wendy nodded and closed the door against the frigid wind after watching Kersh walk back into the darkness. She sat on her couch, found the remote, and turned on the TV. Night of the Living Dead, one of her favorite horror films, was on Syfy. During a commercial, she put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. She went to the window to close the curtains for the night. What she saw through the window nearly made her heart cease its beating. Outside, on the other side of the narrow road, lit only by a dull streetlamp, stood a clown--one with a gaudy orange wig, a white, red-nosed mask, a blue jumpsuit, and absurdly large shoes. In one hand, he held a gleaming knife stained with what Wendy knew was blood. His empty, black eyes seemed to regard her balefully. The clown was still as a statue, his knife raised in stabbing position. It occurred to Wendy to scream, but she didn't. Instead, she stared back at the macabre stranger for a few moments. Then, as if it would could him to vanish, she pulled down the curtains. She went to the phone, then remembered, damn it, that she hadn't paid the phone bill. She realized her negligence had trapped her, and desperately thought of running out. But he was out there, and she was sure he would kill her. Wendy stepped quickly over to the curtains again and peeked out. She swore. The clown had moved a few feet closer, his eyes, or lack thereof, focused on her. She rushed into the kitchen to retrieve a knife--she'd never owned a firearm. Perhaps she could convince the masquerader that she was crazier than he was. She tore open the door as if it were a Band-Aid to be discarded. The clown resumed its stance. "Hey," she barked, "Get out of here! Now!" He didn't budge. She stepped closer. Something curious happened. The clown trembled and dropped the knife, throwing up both hands. "No, please!" he cried as Wendy approached tentatively. She stopped. The creeper sounded like a kid. He tore off his mask, revealing a youthful face. "It's a prank!" he said, and his gestures indicating another direction, "They paid me ten bucks to scare you! I'm sorry!" The teenager seemed to not need any more encouragement to leave and ran off. Wendy, still on an adrenaline rush, stood there for several moments, then went back inside, slamming the door and locking it again. She sighed. It was all over. Perhaps she'd let the policeman's warning get to her. Strange, she thought. She looked at her knife as she twisted it in the air, smiling. There was a moan coming from her bedroom. She strolled up to her room and opened the door. The man on the bed, gagged and secured there by agonizingly tight ropes, mumbled what was meant to be a scream. Wendy put on her clown wig and red nose. The man's eyes widened impossibly. "We're going to have some fun, aren't we?" Wendy said.​

 

[Guttersnipe]

*would cause him to vanish

 

[Phyrebrat]

Glad to see you’re writing more horror — the Darkside needs more citizens

I think this will need a lot of work if you want to get it ready for submission. There’s no immediacy, emotion and little authenticity with human emotions/reactions.

For example, the dialogue between her and the policeman does not sound real. And for horror to work, the reader needs to believe in the situation if not empathise with the character. What you have here is more like a treatment — or something for you.

My recommendation would be that now you have the vision in your mind of what happens, rewrite it from scratch in much closer pov (it’s very tell-y atm) and try to reduce sentence length and ‘and’s. Short sentences can give a breathless unease. Try not to explain anything. Just let it happen and have her react.

‘It occurred to Wendy to scream, but she didn’t’

This doesn’t do any work and if she’s really in fight or flight mode things don’t ‘occur’ to people’s minds. They’re in reflex mode, so try to draw on the vagus nerve and limbic system.

Are you determined to keep it a clown? Clowns are just hackneyed, and have moved from trope into cliche over the last ten years. Why not use a different monster that could be a prank instead. It’ll also allow you to personalise it more and keep away from the reader making assumptions.

And of course here’s hoping you do more and more horror

 

[Guttersnipe]

I thought of the title of the story after hearing the phrase, "There's nothing funny about a clown at midnight," or some such thing, so it's kind of important to me. I know it's set in November, but clown costumes are pretty common around Halloween. I will probably end up writing it in first person now that you suggested it, though. Remember, Wendy is the real clown killer, so it would make sense if her fears seemed muted.

 

[Karapace]

I wrote a psychological horror story for Spooky Season. What are your thoughts? Anything I need to correct? Should I extend it? The idea behind my other story, "The Wrong Bus," is on the back burner (maybe it'll become a creepypasta at some point once I've made more corrections and given it more distinguishing characteristics) for now, so I'm more interested in your thoughts on this one.

"A Clown at Midnight" It occurred to Wendy to scream, but she didn't. Instead, she stared back at the macabre stranger for a few moments. Then, as if it would could him to vanish, she pulled down the curtains. She went to the phone, then remembered, damn it, that she hadn't paid the phone bill. She realized her negligence had trapped her, and desperately thought of running out. But he was out there, and she was sure he would kill her. Wendy stepped quickly over to the curtains again and peeked out. She swore. The clown had moved a few feet closer, his eyes, or lack thereof, focused on her. She rushed into the kitchen to retrieve a knife--she'd never owned a firearm. Perhaps she could convince the masquerader that she was crazier than he was. She tore open the door as if it were a Band-Aid to be discarded. The clown resumed its stance. "Hey," she barked, "Get out of here! Now!"​

Wendy was spooked. I don’t think you need “and now positively” that suggests she was already spooked. Natural as from the last paragraph she would not want to be disturbed.

I think you could also leave out “her fears were confirmed”

I also think you could leave out “killing women and children” We already know it’s a killer clown.

I think I agree with other comments “Heart cease beating” doesn’t quite fit. Saw something that caused her to pause.

Also the way in which she is scared of the clown might need some tweaking. After all she is the clown killer. May be she thinks it is a rival, a vision of herself, or something?

Over all though I like it and it is a good twist at the end