Microhorror Writing Contest

He Returns

Her mum had promised Sarah that the fair wouldn’t come back. That he wouldn’t come back.

Ever.

But the nights lengthened, the winter returned and so did the lights.

She’d taken the tablets with dinner as always. They’d made her sleepy, also like always. She’d done everything the doctor and her mum had told her to. But now she lay on her back, wide awake despite the drugs, watching the lights fade across her drawn curtains for the third night in a row. Red to green to yellow. Slow. Deliberate. Enticing.

She hadn’t told her mum. She didn’t know how to tell her that she’d been wrong.

Also, this time, the others had seen them too.  After all the teasing. All taunts and giggles in class. ‘Psycho Sarah’ and her imaginary carnival had been the talk of the playground for weeks. But now they’d seen the lights. And they wanted to go.

So…she had to go. Go or be called chicken. Or a wuss. Or, worse, a liar.

“Prove it,” Hannah had jeered. “If there really is a something scary out there, show it to us.”

The lights stained the low cloud over the hill as she slipped out the back door, holding the handle so it didn’t snick as it shut. The wind was chill and smelly. Like old leaves and dead things.

Sarah shivered but buttoned her coat and went to the gap in fence. She knew where it was even in the dark. Just as she knew the way through the woods beyond without having to look up.

Hannah, Jade and Kara were all waiting where they said they’d be. The lights were brighter here, illuminating their wide-eyed faces. Muted music tinkled on the air. Old chimes. Nursery rhymes played on bells. A tinny lullaby from some old speaker somewhere out of sight. But no voices. No car sounds. No sign of movement.

Sarah stopped, frozen, in the shadows. But Hannah spotted her.

“There you are. Wow. You weren’t kidding. And there are really no grown-ups allowed?”

Sarah shook her head. Her voice was dead somewhere in the back of her mouth.

“And you don’t have to pay for anything?”

Sarah shook her head again.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Kara’s braces flashed in the coloured light as she grinned.

“We shouldn’t go.” Sarah found her voice but it sounded rusty, fear corroding her throat.

“I’m going,” Jade started forward. “It looks amazing.”

Sarah sensed rather than saw movement ahead. Something slinking between the trees. Its movements jerky. Its manner expectant.

You said you’d bring friends… The voice was in her head. A voice without breath but tight with laughter.

“We shouldn’t go,” Sarah repeated, louder this time. “He’s waiting.”

“Only babies are afraid of clowns,” Hannah drawled and followed Jade towards the light. Kara trotted after her, calling for them to wait.

Sarah let them go.

They’d dared her to prove it, after all.

He’d prove it for her.

Thank you, Sarah…