clown virus

“Honey, do we have to go to the circus?” Mike asked his wife, Donna, frowning. “You know I hate clowns. They’re… creepy.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” Donna replied with a smile. “We’ll get the kids to come along since they’re home from college. Make a family night out of it, it’ll be great!”

Mike sighed but didn’t argue further. After dinner, the Williams family made their way into the big top. The air smelled faintly of popcorn and sawdust, and the lights flickered over rows of folding chairs. Crystal, Brandon, and Katie, all home from college for the weekend, found their seats and nudged Mike.

“Dad, can you grab some snacks before the show starts?” Crystal asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Mike replied, forcing a smile, and headed toward the concession stand.

The show began without him. Donna leaned over to the kids. “What’s taking your father so long?” she asked, glancing toward the entrance.

Mike walked through the midway, the sounds of laughter and carnival music fading slightly in his ears. Something felt… off. Shadows twisted between the stalls, just out of focus. He shook his head. I’m imagining things, he muttered.

But then he saw them. Two figures standing near the edge of the crowd, watching him. At first, he thought they were kids in makeup—but something about their posture, the stillness in their movements, was wrong. Their hair was a dark, unnatural green, matching the gloves they wore, and their skin was unnaturally pale. And then there were their eyes. Purple. Glowing faintly, impossible to look away from.

Mike froze. Panic surged, and he tried to convince himself it was just a trick of the light. He quickened his pace, weaving through the crowd toward the concessions. The figures moved with him, silently, effortlessly, their giggles soft but unnerving.

Every glance back made his chest tighten. Their eyes seemed to pierce into him, pulling at the edges of his thoughts, clouding his mind. His legs felt heavy, his movements sluggish, as though the ground itself resisted him. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t.

And then, just as he rounded the corner toward the concession stand, he realized he could no longer ignore it. Their eyes followed him, unblinking, and a soft, chilling giggle echoed just behind him. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. But even as he tried, he felt an icy weight locking his movements.

Mike’s last coherent thought before darkness seemed to tug at him was: I can’t look away… their eyes…