Untitled
At 3:00PM Eastern time the body of Richard L. George was discovered, it was believed to be a suicide as he was sick in his final days, with a bad virus that prevented him from walking or talking, so he was confined to a wheelchair. His cause of death was being hung from the ceiling, about 10 feet above the body. It was estimated that he had died at least four hours earlier. His caretaker was immediately a suspect, until they discovered that she had died as well, she had fallen from the balcony around the same time that Richard had died. Richard was a millionaire, with an estimated net worth of about 17.3 million dollars.
Only one man suspected that his death was a murder, and not a suicide. That man’s name was detective Johnathan. Detective Johnathan had seen some messed up things in his life, just an example being that he had a friend whose father was a pedophile. He had also been part of a school shooting, and was shot in the leg at only age 9. The reason he suspected it was a murder was because someone could have easily broken into the house without shattering a window, then shoving the caretaker off the balcony, then dragging Richard’s wheelchair over to the balcony overlooking the first floor and hanging him from the ceiling. He needed to figure this out.
12 years earlier
Johnathan had arrived at his friend’s house, they had planned for Johnathan to distract her father while she ran away, away into her father’s cornfields. Even though he was only 13 and she was 11, they both understood that what her father did was wrong, very wrong, as they both knew what sexual abuse was and they both knew it was very illegal. As expected, her father walked out of their broken-down house, beer in hand and shouted at him: “I’m watching a football game, so you better get out of my property before I beat you to a pulp!” Johnathan grasped the stone he held in his right hand and tossed it at his forehead. The rock ricocheted off his now bloody forehead and landed in a rusty metal can nearby. “I’ll kill you!” He screamed back at Johnathan.
Johnathan leapt into a grass patch nearby as her father smashed his beer bottle and ran back inside. When he came out, he had a shotgun in his hand. He began shooting into the patch of tall grass. One of the bullets got so close to him that he could hear the bullet wiz past his ear. He crawled around until he felt something touching his wrist, it was a cold metal pipe. He grabbed the pipe and crouched around until he reached the back of her father. In the meantime, he could see her running out of the house, heading towards the river just behind her house. He jumped out behind her father and hit him in the head with the metal pipe. When he turned around, he bashed him in the face, opening up a large cut that sprayed blood all over his face. He repeatedly beat at him until he fell down with blood all over his face and shirt, and he was dead.
The guilt hit him like a bus, even thought the man he just killed was a pedophile. He knew that the police would never even find out the truth as the year was only 1972. He dropped the pipe on her father’s chest, then ran back into the wheat field so he could meet up with her at the river.
1984
He still felt extreme guilt, knowing he had killed a man just 12 years earlier, as a 13-year-old. He stood in front of the house in which twelve years prior he killed a pedophile at. The house was more run down now, the wood was rottener, and the metal supports at the bottom had begun to rust. He noticed graffiti on the wall made in big cyan spray paint reading: PEDO. He grabbed one of the stones next to him and hurled it at the window, the glass shattering as easily as a child’s sand castle on the beach, washing away from the waves, those waves being evil in the mind of the child. He felt evil himself, he ended the life of a man and he could not forgive himself for that.
He sat on a nearby log, just staring at the run-down house, not even knowing why he was just sitting there. He looked to his side and saw the grass patch he had hidden inside all those years ago. H got up, ready to pounce at anything and simply walked inside. He walked around to see the kitchen, decade year old sauces spilling over the countertop. The cabinets had been raided, and the plates were tossed on the floor, in pieces with mold growing over them. That was when he heard something moving in another room, he walked to the source of the sound and walked into the living room only to see a fat man, beer in hand, watching the static of the television. His hand had been corroded away, it was just skin and bone at this point. The man turned to face him, and he saw the man’s face, his face. The face he had not seen for twelve years, the face of a smiling pedophile with an inch deep cut over his face, still gushing blood over his white shirt. One of the man’s teeth fell out, rotten and yellow. He stood up from his chair and began limping toward the detective.
1964
“Boy, oh boy, it’s finally time for my first Baseball game!” He could barely see out the windows of his mother’s car, even though he could not, he still tried his hardest to look up, desperate to see the baseball field. He wasn’t even playing in the game, just watching, but he was still very much excited for it. When he arrived, he watched the players toss the ball, and sometimes they would hit it with the bat, other times not. He did not understand the game but his parents did, as they always would watch it on the television. That was when he heard a sound underneath the bleachers. He slowly walked away to go underneath the bleachers to see what the sound was. When he arrived, he looked right at it. It had long, bony fingers, pale and sharp. His hands were so white that he was convinced it was makeup. He looked at its face and saw it. There were lines of makeup going up and down his face, and an enormous mouth with extremely sharp teeth. It was chomping on a human arm, blood staining its big suit. It would pull off skin and slurp it up, then rip out the flesh and chew on it. Terrified, he ran, crying back to his parents and screamed, “There’s a clown down there!”
Thus, began a search for the killer clown, a body was discovered in the bleachers. It was that of a missing girl, whom had already been half-eaten. The killer was never found, and no evidence of it being a clown was ever discovered. Johnathan insisted the murderer was a clown, but no one believed him due to a lack of evidence. He still saw things that resembled a clown in his day to day life, such as banners at a parade forming a clown face as it smiled down upon him, oh so terrifying. However it was all based around perspective, as when it moved away it no longer looked like a clown, but more just red and white banners. Or some graffiti on the wall, painting a clown face.
1984
Tensions began to grow throughout the town as more evidence was gathered that Richard L. George’s death was not a suicide, but a murder. A shattered window in the basement, hidden behind some boxes. A mysterious amount of money was extracted from the man’s bank account, with the extractor claiming to be “close family coming to get our share of money” in their words, in the eyes of the detective, it was a robber, but they had an identification that proved otherwise. However suspicious that the person that the identification belonged to was found dead in a river just three days later, not looking like the picture in the card at all, possibly a stolen or replicated card. The man was arrested, and convicted of murdering the two.
The judge and jury thought the case was closed, but it wasn’t anywhere near closed as he escaped from prison just a day later, then Richard’s corpse was found dug up and vandalized, a clown face painted on, with a smile comprised of blood bled from Richard’s cheeks, which were found cut by a knife. It was obvious it was a murder at this point, but there was no reason to murder besides money, and during an interview with the criminal he said that he did not do it for the money, but that shadowy figure hidden in alleyways that no other person could see told him to do so.
The detective walked out of the police building one day, to see a small pool of blood forming around the sewer. Scared, he opened the manhole and crawled inside to see what it came from. It was a trail it appeared, going through the sewer. He followed the trail. The blood was thicker at first but it slowly thinned as he walked throughout the sewer, eventually leading to an old house at the top of a hill. When he walked inside, he was greeted with the corpse of the sheriff, his head had been punctured by some sort of tool. He looked as if he had been dead for at least a few hours. He noticed a telephone to his side and grabbed it, dialing 911.
An officer picked up and asked the traditional, “911, what’s your emergency?” the detective told them where he was, and that he had found the sheriff dead, but the officer said that the sheriff was right next to her, alive and well. When he looked over at where the corpse was, it was gone, no blood, no evidence of it ever being there. Then he saw a man in all black with a clown mask on who said to him “So, you’ve been seeing it too? It’s been hunting again, searching for the purest of blood to devour.” The man looked over at the detective and took a step closer. “I’m afraid if I want to survive, it requires a blood sacrifice, and it’s been wanting you for 20 years now.” The man leapt at Johnathan, and Johnathan flipped him over, so that his head was lying on the edge of the countertops of the kitchen, then he lifted the man up and then banged his head on the countertop edge, cracking the mask and spraying blood all over the detective’s clothes. He removed the mask to reveal it was the murderer of Richard, a paranoid schizophrenic, but also had a point, it had been wanting him, but this time instead of killing Johnathan, he killed it.An officer picked up and asked the traditional, “911, what’s your emergency?” the detective told them where he was, and that he had found the sheriff dead, but the officer said that the sheriff was right next to her, alive and well. When he looked over at where the corpse was, it was gone, no blood, no evidence of it ever being there. Then he saw a man in all black with a clown mask on who said to him “So, you’ve been seeing it too? It’s been hunting again, searching for the purest of blood to devour.” The man looked over at the detective and took a step closer. “I’m afraid if I want to survive, it requires a blood sacrifice, and it’s been wanting you for 20 years now.” The man leapt at Johnathan, and Johnathan flipped him over, so that his head was lying on the edge of the countertops of the kitchen, then he lifted the man up and then banged his head on the countertop edge, cracking the mask and spraying blood all over the detective’s clothes. He removed the mask to reveal it was the murderer of Richard, a paranoid schizophrenic, but also had a point, it had been wanting him, but this time instead of killing Johnathan, he killed it.
- GamerBrineOfficial