Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be
able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended
now for tonights micro Terror.
Speaker 2: The Clowns by Scott Donnelly. It happened on a summer night.
I remember the heat of the day lingering well into
the evening hour, as well past my bedtime. Since it
was summer and getting up for school the next morning
wasn't an issue for a few more weeks. My parents
were cool and let me stay up late most nights.
I'd watch movies or play video games with my friends.
My dad, who usually worked during the day, volunteered to
cover for someone who'd been injured on the job, so
he was working the night shift on this particular evening.
That left just my mother and I at home by ourselves.
It was just after nine and the sun had finally
sat over the horizon, leaving only the faintest orange glow remaining.
I sat in the living room with the lights out,
streaming an old Werewolf Grindhouse movie on the Monster Channel.
My mom sat in the other room, where she listened
to a podcast and practiced her knitting. Then our ring
doorbell chimed. I heard it come through my mother's phone,
briefly interrupting her podcast. Probably just a bird, my mother
called out from the other room. At first, I thought
she may have been right. Our ring sensor went off
several times a day because of birds or neighbors mowing
their lawns. But then it went off again, and this
time it was the doorbell. Someone had actually pushed the
doorbell button. So a bird or a stray cat, well,
they were out of the question. I stood up from
the couch, but before I could walk to the door,
my mother rushed into the room. A protective instincts had
kicked in, and I understood why who would be ringing
our bell this late? My mother went to the window
first and pulled the curtain to the side just enough
to look out onto the porch. Who is it, I
impatiently asked. My mother didn't answer it first, it was
like she was struggling to see who it was. I
can't tell. I can barely see him. My mother then
made the decision to open the front door. Curious. I
was right there by her side. What I saw on
the other side of our front door sent a chain
reaction of chills through my body. To this day, just
thinking about it, I still get nervous. A man stood there,
tall and brooding. He wore dirty, dark colored overalls, heavy boots,
and yellow work gloves. But the scariest part was the
mask that hid his face. It was an oversized clown mask,
frayed at the edges and complete with a red nose,
disheveled and matted hair, and a permanent devilish grin sprawled
across it. My mother froze, as did I. Not only
did the chills surge throughout my body, but the site
was so unexpected and unnerving that I began to feel
nauseous almost immediately. My mother reached up slowly to make
sure the screen door was locked. Can't I help you,
my mother asked the masked stranger. She tried to remain calm,
but the trembling in her voice was a dead giveaway
that she wasn't the man didn't respond. Instead, he just
continued to stand there, breathing heavily under his mast. My
mother and I looked at each other, worried and confused.
Go get my phone, my mother whispered to me. I
quickly rushed into the other room where she had been,
But all I saw was her knitting things sitting on
an end table. Her phone wasn't there. I checked the
floor around the chair and then underneath it for a
good measure. Nothing. I stood up. Maybe she had it
with her and forgot about it. Just as I was
about to hurry back into the living room, I heard
something shuffle around in the kitchen. I poked my head
in and gasped when I saw a second stranger, a
second clown, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He
was still as a statue, wearing the same kind of
dirty brown coverall this as the other clown was. I
could tell this wasn't the same one, though the mask
was different. It had different colored hair, a different expression
and makeup design. I trembled before the clown. In one
of his hands, he held up my mom's phone. In
his other, he held up a picture of my dad from
when he was much younger. Maybe in his early twenties.
I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't say anything.
Any words or noises were caught in my throat. Fear
kept them imprisoned. There. Woo, what do you want with
my husband? I heard my mom say to the clown
at the front door. Her speaking was enough to let
a weak cry of my own out. Mom, I whimpered,
She didn't hesitate. Her motherly instincts kicked in again, and
she rushed into the kitchen to where I was and
grabbed a hold of me. When she saw the second clown,
she noticed the picture of my dad in one of
his hands, and then her phone.
Speaker 1: He give me my.
Speaker 2: Phone, she demanded, her voice still shaking. To our surprise,
the clown tossed the phone to my mom, who let
go of me and caught it with both hands. Leave now,
and I won't call the police, she said. The tremble
in her words started to dissipate, and she was starting
to feel more in control of the situation. True to character,
the clown in the kitchen didn't say a word. He
just turned around and walked casually toward the back door.
He opened it and walked out. My mom quickly raced
for the back door and locked it behind him. She
then ran into the living room, where the other clown
remained just outside the front door. He held both of
us hands up on the other side of the screen door,
both of them gripping photographs of my dad from decades ago.
I'm calling the police if you don't leave my property,
my mom commanded. The clown instantly led his arms down
to his sides, turned and walked away into the dark.
My mom closed the front door, dead bolted it, and
then set the house alarm. Once our panics ceased and
our heart rates returned to normal, my mom called my
dad and explained what had just happened. He calmed her
down and said he'd be home as soon as he could.
When my dad got home, he reassured us that everything
was okay. He assured us that the clowns would never
come back again. How can you be so sure, my
mom asked, You weren't even here. You didn't see them
because my dad's side.
Speaker 1: I used to be one, he said.
Speaker 2: I was in a traveling haunted attraction called the Circus
of Creeps. We were silent clowns. Our whole job was
to walk through the crowd and make people as uneasy
as possible while they watched the show. It added to
the scare factor. It was part of what made the
Circus of Creeps so popular. You never told me that,
My mom said, why were those clowns here? I quit
the act after I met you, He said, we settled down,
we had a little boy, and I got a new job.
The Circus of Creeps was unrelenting though. They've been trying
to get me to come back ever since I walked away.
They show up at my work, follow me around town.
Now they've well found out where I live. How is
this going to stop? My mom asked, how can you
guarantee this isn't going to happen again? Your son was terrified.
I was terrified. That's when my dad reached into his
work bag and pulled out a clown mask, similar to
the ones the others wore. I rejoined. He said, now
there's no need for them to harass or intimidate me anymore,
and you guys will be safe. My heart began to
thump harder again. My mom's breathing picked up. Then my
dad placed the clown mask on his head and stood
up from the couch. He faced us, standing eerily still
and quiet. Did you Dad, I stammered, but he didn't answer.
Take that thing off. My mom instructed him. Both herefold
and upset, take it off, she repeated louder, but he didn't.
He just stood there. It's still as a statue, breathing
heavily beneath the mask, and it made our skin crawl.
Speaker 1: Nine o'clock the sun goes down, Mom and me, no
one else around.
Speaker 3: The doorbell ring. She says, it's a bird. Then it
rings again on the second word. All the curtain to
peak outside.
Speaker 1: Something there She's trying to hide up a rosse, dirty
glove stain, yellow painted grin on a hollow fellow.
Speaker 3: He don't move, He don't blink, He don't say. The
clowns never speak. The clowns never speak. They watched, they breathe,
they grinning at the door.
Speaker 2: They're already and the clowns never sweep.
Speaker 3: The clowns never speak loud. I freezing, seton the clown
and I live in space, standing all not.
Speaker 4: Chichen child and photos wearing smiles.
Speaker 3: Daddy young and never refrained, living not the same. I'm
a screams you better than he walked out through the screen.
Speaker 4: He don't run, he don't fight, he don't say goodbye.
Speaker 3: The clowns never speaking, The clouds never speak. They watch,
they they they grinned at the door. They're already the
clowns never speak in the clown never speak.
Speaker 1: Speak.
Speaker 3: That is home.
Speaker 4: He sits us down over the bank. Before I came
on on the circus of creeps, I used to play
sign and stop his lightning dame quickly let you.
Speaker 3: Won't ever lose it, cruel. Only one way out my ear,
which is in his bed. And the mask appears, the
clown clown there waiting at the door, already never speak.
The clown never speak, That clown.
Speaker 2: Never Coming up next week on micro Terrors Scary Stories
for kids, A house sitting gig goes horribly wrong with
the thing in the wall. Also big news, the first
micro Terrors short film, The Dire More Phantom, will premiere
this July. The movie will be available exclusively through the
micro Terrorist Fan Club, so be sure to get signed
up so you can watch it when it drops. In
the meantime, head on over to micro terrors dot com
to check out our merch store and become one of
that's terrified by joining the fan Club and unlocking tons
of cool perks, including free access to the monthly newsletter,
getting your very own copy of the fan club exclusive
book Swarm of Corn, participate in the upcoming live Q
and A with micro Terror's writer and creator Scott Donnelly,
and so much more. I'm your narrator, Darren Marler. Thank
you all for being such dedicated micro terrrist listeners.
Speaker 1: We'll see you next week.
Speaker 2: Clowns, They're so creepy.
Speaker 1: Thank you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each
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