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  • Writer's pictureEva Nel Brettrager

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but...

The incessant honking of the horns.

Their glaring red noses, bouncing light from the spotlights.

The biggest grins, painted on thick.

By the hundreds.

I was frozen in place, bound by hand and wrist to the pole behind me, as more of the ever cheerful rainbow haired, white faced freaks danced around me. Their massive feet clamped and clopped around me. Their never ending laughter echoed off the walls around me.

Their laughter turned to quite chuckles and eventually came to a silence. They stopped jumping... stomping... moving...

They just stared at me with their big, bright, black eyes.

Softly at first, and growing louder over time they began to chant.

“Someone’s looking tasty. I think we found our dinner.”

Their teeth grew into massive sharp daggers, and before I could smash my eyelids closed, I saw them closing in on me.

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