The Haunted School
"You aren't funny," you declare boldly to the darkness. You are surprised to hear how confident you sound. You don't feel confident at all. "When you come out of this bathroom, and you will, eventually, I'm going to hurt you," you say. "I don't care who is there. They won't be able to help you."
You know it is meaningless bravado, but it makes you feel better to pretend at being brave.
You listen, straining to hear.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Then so low that you can't be sure that it isn't a figment of your imagination, from in front of you comes a low, throaty, wet chuckle, a mirthless laugh that comes from deep in the chest of a large man. Or thing. Your mind conjures the image of a twisted and hateful clown.
Again you hear the shuffling sound, but this time it lasts longer, as if a decisions has been made to end this game. To end you.
You know it is meaningless bravado, but it makes you feel better to pretend at being brave.
You listen, straining to hear.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Then so low that you can't be sure that it isn't a figment of your imagination, from in front of you comes a low, throaty, wet chuckle, a mirthless laugh that comes from deep in the chest of a large man. Or thing. Your mind conjures the image of a twisted and hateful clown.
Again you hear the shuffling sound, but this time it lasts longer, as if a decisions has been made to end this game. To end you.