We were camping. It was the last week of summer. We decided that we were going to tell scary stories. I was up first. Long ago there was a boy.

His name was Jack he was 13 years old. He lived with his mother and father in a cottage near a lake with woods surrounding it. There was no homes for miles. He had just moved from Texas to Kansas. This boy was fairly lonely.

He barely spoke to new people. Every day he would go outside and just enjoy the view. One day it was very windy but he still went outside. The trees were shaking. Leaves falling off of trees and the lake splashing.
He was looking around and he saw a bright pop of color. He moved over a little further. He saw a clown standing there. As if the clown wasn’t scary enough he was holding something. He had a sack in his left hand and an axe in his right hand.

The boy was full of fear. He ran as fast as he could. He didn’t know what to do. He ran to his house never looking back. He told his parents.

They told him he must’ve just been imagining it. He soon later forgot about it and decided to listen to his parents. He went on with his week with his normal routine. His school day had gone by like any other. He was outside.
He saw a red wig. He scooted a little further to the left. All of a sudden memories from the week before rushed back. He was shocked by what he did next, instead of running he went closer. The clowns didn’t speak to him they simply stood there staring at him. He didn’t say anything.

Then the clowns looked at each other then back at him. They started laughing hysterically. He still just stood there. He couldn’t find enough courage in himself to