In this creepy clown story, a college student finds himself the target of a creepy clown’s twisted game.
I really hope this is some sort of deranged joke. I guess I can understand how a simple joke could get out of hand. However, it has started to reach the point where I am truly terrified. I don’t think I fit the standard victim profile in stalker cases. First off I am a big guy, 6’3’’ 205 lbs to be exact, and I was a member of the University football team before a season ending injury. I keep to myself and like to think I lead a pretty simple life. These days my life basically revolves around school, work, my girlfriend, and video games. Someone has apparently taken an interest in me. This isn’t your standard case of stalking either. It is not a crazy ex-girlfriend or some deranged admirer making a pitiful stab at friendship. This is something much, much darker.
It all started a few weeks ago when my cell phone started ringing with calls from a blocked number at odd hours of the night. At first I only encountered silence during these calls, but my stalker seemed to gain confidence with each call. Over the course of this past month silence turned into heavy breathing which evolved into him speaking to me. The conversations are always the same. Here is an example of a call from a few days ago.
“You need to stop calling me.” I demanded immediately upon answering the call. A low, raspy voice responded, “Won’t you please come outside and play?” Ignoring the question I say, “Who is this and who gave you my number.” He voice changes and he shrilly cries into the phone, “Please, please why won’t you come outside and play with me?”
At that point I hung up. I was not going to play games with this guy. I even called my cell phone company and had them give me a new phone number. A few days passed and I thought I had lost the guy. No such luck. Yesterday morning I found a picture of a clown holding a hammer taped to the front door of my apartment.
My apartment door. The actual door to my apartment. That means this sick fuck knows where I live and was able to get inside the apartment building. On the back of the picture, written in red lipstick, it says, “I miss our phone calls… I’ll be waiting for you to come out and play…”
I called campus security and the police but they played it off as a Halloween inspired prank. They told me to contact them again if it escalates beyond that. Well, it has escalated for sure. Last night I left my apartment around 11 pm and there was a guy in a grotesque clown suit sitting on the trunk of my car. I started to approach him, to settle this once and for all, when I saw that in his hands he held a huge machete. I turned around and sprinted back into my apartment and bolted the door. I immediately called the police and thanked God I am on a third story apartment.
Unfortunately my stalker was long gone by the time the police arrived. However, the police did tell me that there have been reports of clowns wielding weapons all over the southern parts of California. They told me to keep my guard up, and to call them again if I have any more problems. As soon as they left my phone rang again and a blocked number popped up. I decided that I needed to take control of the situation. My stalker got his pleasure from being in a position of power. With renewed confidence and a plan in mind I answered the phone.
A gleeful voice greeted me with, “Aww, why did you have to call the police? Don’t be afraid I just want to play!”
I decided to play along, and feigning fear I stammered, “W-what do you want from me? Please leave me a-alone.”
A piercing giggle blasted through the phone and my stalker said, “Ohh let’s set up a play date, my dear.”
“Okay, okay, w-whatever you say man. I want to meet in a public place though, how about the University cafeteria at 2:30pm tomorrow?” I said again allowing myself to stammer.
He said “Mmmm can’t wait.” And shut off his phone.
I felt empowered. I was in control now. First, I now knew that my stalker was a student since you need a university keycard to gain access to the cafeteria. I began to set my plan into motion. I called my phone company and explained the situation. I asked if they could identify the blocked number that had been calling me at odd hours over the past few weeks. Surprisingly, they complied, so I guess phone companies commonly deal with this sort of situation. The next step was to contact my former teammate from the football team who worked in the cafeteria to help pay tuition. I explained the situation and asked if I could hang out in the kitchen area so as to have a good view of the sitting area while remaining out of sight. He agreed, and told me that he would let his co-workers know about the situation since he would be in class at the time.
The next morning passed slowly as I anxiously awaited the moment of truth. I was thankful that my girlfriend and I did not live together. First it might have made her a target of the stalker, and second she probably wouldn’t have agreed with how I planned to deal with my stalker. In any case I finally wrapped up my morning classes and set up shop in the kitchen of the cafeteria. My teammates buddy even set up me up with a kitchen smock and hairnet to help me blend in. My heart began to beat furiously as 2:30pm neared. I tried to remain inconspicuous and pretend like I belonged in the kitchen.
At 2:30 I snuck a glance out into the sitting area but was disappointed to see no one sitting out there. The cafeteria closes at 2:30 so it is usually empty by that time, which made it the perfect time to identify my stalker. At 2:40 I snuck another glance out into the cafeteria and was about to give up until I saw a figure sitting in a dark corner of the cafeteria. That was him. I knew it. My heart began to race and I started to lose confidence in my plan until the friend of my teammate came up to my side and said, “Is that the sicko that’s been messing with you, yo you gotta fuck this dude up.”
With renewed confidence I opened my phone and dialed the number that the phone company had given me. After three rings I saw the figure raise his phone to his hear and heard a soft voice say, “Hello?” through my phone. I had him, but I couldn’t see him. I needed to be able to see his face so I turned to friend of my teammate and asked if he could do me a favor. I told him my idea, and he quickly agreed. He walked up to the figure, my phone in hand, and snapped a couple pictures of the man as he told him that the cafeteria was closed. He had a huge smile when he got back and said, “you are never going to guess who I just took a picture of.”
I actually had to sit down before I could look at the picture. My hand trembled as I took the phone, and when I turned it on I saw that my stalker wasn’t a student, but Mr. Feeley, my goddamn sociology professor from freshman year. What the fuck. I reeled in confusion. I had been expecting some twisted social reject, but instead I got an accomplished professor that I had earned an A- from. I decided to abort my plan, and headed back home.
That night I received another call from my stalker, who I now knew to be Mr. Feeley. He said, “I am sooo upset with you. I even wore my best outfit today! I think your girlfriend has been distracting you, but luckily I am at her house right now.”
My heart sank and for a moment I stood frozen in place. I then sprinted out the door and drove as quickly as I could to my girlfriend’s house. The back of the house was in flames. I jumped out of my car and burst through the front of the house and found my girlfriend lying crumpled on the floor in the hallway just outside her bedroom. I picked her up and carried her out into the front yard. Thank God she was still alive, though breathing very lightly. The police and ambulance eventually arrived, but I told them none of what I knew. I was going to deal with this myself.
It was time to put my plan into action. I parked my car in the alley behind Mr. Feeley’s house and crept around to the front. I rang the doorbell and then sprinted away and hid behind a row of bushes. I saw Mr. Feeley answer the door and called the number that I believed to be his while blocking my own number. I had to be sure.
“Mr. Feeley?” I asked.
“Speaking.” He said.
“It’s time to play” I said giggling.
I then slipped into the grotesque clown suit I had bought earlier that day. The plan was in motion. I crept around the back of his house and kicked in the back door.
I called out, “Mr. Feeley, oh, Mr. Feeley! Come out and play!”
I found him cowering in a corner, phone in hand. “You are going to pay for what you have done.” I said. He let out a blood curdling scream as I raised my crowbar and brought it down upon his head with a sickening crunch. Blood pooled around his body as I left the room to search the house for any evidence of the clown suit I had seen, but found none. I quickly changed out of my clown costume and threw it along with the crowbar in a garbage bag which I dumped in a random trash can.
I immediately drove to the hospital to be with my girlfriend. She had inhaled a great deal of smoke but the doctors said she would recover. I held her hand, grimly satisfied that I had done what a man should do. Protect himself and his girl at all costs when threatened. At that moment my phone rang. I looked down and chill ran up my spine when I saw a blocked number. I answered the phone and a voice drunk with glee said, “You were a great playmate, thanks for playing my game.” I ran into the bathroom and vomited when I realized what I had done.