her story begins now...
Everyone
says it’s my fault the children died.
But if they’d been there, they would know that I never had the chance to save
those kids.
I
tightly folded my arms as I strolled down the street. The air lightly nibbled
at my skin. It was October and the steel-gray Nebraska sky threatened a
thunderstorm. I was in an old neighborhood near the University of Nebraska. The
neighborhood was dreary but beautiful and full of Victorian mansions. I was
babysitting for a fabulously wealthy young couple. They had two children: Max,
who was three years old, and Lily, who was five. Their parents, Mr. and Mrs.
Donahue, were attending a raunchy musical at the Lied, and they had offered to
pay me 200 dollars to watch their kids. I had gladly accepted, even though I
didn’t know the family well.
I
reached the house and I marveled at its beauty. It was freshly coated in creamy
white paint, the porch swing slowly rocked back and forth, and the light from
inside glowed through the dark storm windows. The lawn was slowly browning,
dotted with cherubic garden gnomes, and full of violets and petunias which were
beginning to die.
I was warmly welcomed into their home with
hugs that made me feel as if I had known the family forever. The parents gave
me simple instructions for the care of the children: Make dinner, play a few
games, and put the kids to bed at nine o’clock before retiring to library to
labor over my school assignments. If I needed anything, I could reach the Mr.
and Mrs. Donahue on their cell phone.
The
children were sweet, adorable, respectful and easy to care for. Max and Lily
were quiet and well behaved, providing a quiet, relaxing break from the rowdy
children who lived across the street from me. When I asked what they wanted for
dinner, they requested macaroni and cheese. I was relieved that they had asked
for something so simple and easy. After dinner, I blew bubbles with them and
played Candy Land. I helped the children brush their teeth before putting them
to bed at nine o’clock. Then I went to the downstairs library.
First, I
read the newspaper, hoping to find an interesting story that I could use for my
Current Events presentation in American History. The front page told the story of
a serial killer who invaded homes while dressed in costume.
It wasn’t
until then that I noticed a life-size clown statue in the corner. It was the
creepiest thing I had ever seen. His smile was so wide that it seemed as though
his cheekbones could tear through his skin at any moment. His eyes were beady
and seemed to peer into my soul. I wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Donahue would keep
something so disturbing in their library. I shook my head and begun working on
my Algebra 2 homework.
As I studied,
I kept getting distracted by the creepy clown statue. I couldn’t shake the
feeling that it was watching me. I thought that perhaps I should check on the
kids, but I decided against it. In all of the horror movies I had watched
during the previous weekend, the babysitter always died when she went to check
on the kids. I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Donahue would be home in less than two
hours. I had nothing to worry about.
I felt
terrified all the same. What if he was the serial killer who I’d read about? I
decided that I was being stupid. I had obviously watched too many horror
movies. I was in one of the safest neighborhoods in the city of Lincoln,
Nebraska. I had nothing to fear.
Still, I
was incredibly distracted. I had a lot of work to do and I couldn’t focus with
the clown in the corner. I finally decided to call Mr. Donahue.
“Do you
mind if I study somewhere else? The clown statue is really bothering me.”
He said
to wait just a minute, and he promised to call me back. I wondered what his
problem was. Why did he need to discuss it with his wife?
He
called me two minutes later. I could detect intense worry in his voice.
“Get out
of the house now, and take the kids with you. We don’t own a clown statue.”
Horrified,
I looked up to see the clown. He was standing over me, holding a knife that was
covered in something scarlet.
view the contest parameters HERE
No comments:
Post a Comment