The Tales of 13

April 21, 2018
Custom User Avatar
More by this author

Ah death, such a bone chilling word. Yet some always seem to say that death is not a bad thing. They say that the dead get to go up to heaven and help others, or get to come back as a fresh new amazing person. Oh, if they only knew, knew what horrific pain we have and will forever suffer. If only they knew that, the way we died will never let us rest, go to heaven, come back, and warn others.
I am one of the 13 that have been brutally murdered. Each one of us was forcibly abducted a late Halloween night. Each just a year apart. Our ages range from a small four-year old to a young adult 16-year old. Out of the 13, only four of us can bear to relive our horrible last days.
Six-year-old Ada’s story:   Halloween had always been my favorite time of year. I loved dressing up in costumes. On my last Halloween, I was dressed as Cinderella. I remember having a big bucket of candy, walking into my house and going to my room to dump out my candy. After eating a lot of the candy, I went to sleep. I woke up later that night. I was thirsty so I went to the kitchen to get some water. After getting my water, I began to walk back to my room. When I passed the back door, I heard a little knock and saw a silly looking clown standing outside with a bucket of candy! Of course, I went to open the door. As soon as I did this, the strange man grabbed me and pulled me outside! He took me into his van and closed the door. I guess I fell asleep because I woke up in a basement. Once I had woken up, I looked around and saw him. He was not a clown anymore and I did not like that. As I cried, the man approached. Soon he was kneeling in front of me, laughing. I smiled, and he hit me hard. Confused I started crying and he laughed. After a little bit I stopped, and again he hit me. I started shaking and pulled away. He moved too, getting closer and closer until he was nearly on top of me. That is when he pulled out the knife. I knew knives were bad so I screamed. That is when he cut me, up my arm. It hurt and I started crying again. Then he left, taking the knife with him.
Over the next 11 days, he continued to cut and hit me. Until finally he had me step up onto a bucket and put my head into a rope. He then tightened it and kicked the bucket. I screamed and then died. I was his first.
Eight-year-old Sawyer’s story:   Halloween was my second favorite time of year. I loved getting candy. I remember having a huge sack of candy and dashing into my house and running to my room to count out my candy. After lying in bed playing games and reading, I went to sleep. Late in the night, I heard a noise and saw a funky looking clown standing over me with a bucket of candy! Of course, I screamed and that is when I realized I was not in my house. I started screaming and he laughed. I stopped and he hit me hard. Confused, I started to cry and he laughed. After a little bit I stopped, and again he hit me. I started shaking and curled up in a ball. In the silence, I heard him breathing and laughing. When I looked up, he had a knife and was holding it against my back. He laughed and cut my back. As I screamed, the man laughed. I cried until I was dry of tears and he hit me hard again. Then he left, taking the knife with him.
Over the next 11 days, he continued to cut and hit me. Until finally he had me step up onto a bucket and put my head into a rope. He then tightened it and kicked the bucket. I screamed and then died. I was his second.
10-year-old Lilly’s story:   Halloween was stupid. I hated the people hiding under masks, dashing up to houses, and running around gathering candy. My stupid friends pressured me into going along, so I ended up going as Supergirl. Afterwards, when I was walking the last block to my house alone, I saw a crazy looking clown standing ahead of me with a bucket of candy! Of course, I tried to avoid him and turn around but he was suddenly on top of me. I tried to scream but he had already gagged me.
I suddenly woke with a pain in my head. Rubbing my head, I started to look around. When I saw the six kid’s bodies hanging from nooses, I screamed. That is when I heard him laugh. I turned and stared. The man cradled a knife adoringly in his hand as he laughed. Suddenly he lunged forward and cut my wrist. I screamed and he laughed and smiled a stupid smile. Trying to catch my breath, I stopped screaming. That is when he hit me, hard. Angry, I started shaking and tried to hit him but he pushed me hard and I felt blood drip down my face. As I screamed again, the man laughed. I cried until I there was nothing in me. He waited and when I stopped, he hit me hard. Then he left, taking the knife with him.
Over the next 11 days, he continued to cut and hit me. Until finally he had me step up onto a bucket and put my head into a loop of rope. He then tightened it and kicked the bucket. I screamed and then died. I was his seventh.
16-year-old Rebecca’s story:   Halloween was ok. I loved seeing all the little kids running around gathering candy. For this Halloween, I even got a job passing out candy at this weird person’s house. I was a little skeptical about passing out candy for the person, but he was paying 60 dollars an hour so I agreed anyway. After about an hour, I heard the bell and opened the door to a creepy looking clown standing in front of me with a bucket of candy! Surprised, I fell back and laughed nervously. Of course, I tried to avoid eye contact with him and turn around but he was suddenly on top of me, pinning me to the floor. I tried to scream but I had already passed out from the pain.
I slowly woke with a pain in my head. Rubbing it, I tried to remember what happened. I did not remember going to bed. Alternatively, even home! When I opened my eyes, I started screaming. The man was leaning over me smiling. The man held a knife lovingly in his hand as he laughed. Suddenly he leaned forward and cut me on my cheek. I screamed and he laughed and smiled that stupid smile. Trying to think of what to do and not panic, I stopped screaming. That is when he hit me, hard. I started shaking and tried to get up. He threw me back onto the ground and in horror; I noticed blood dripping into my eyes. I screamed. The man laughed. I started crying again, knowing it was no use. He turned and left, taking the knife with him.
Over the next 11 days, he continued to cut and hit me. Until finally he had me step up onto a bucket and put my head into a rope loop. He then tightened it and kicked the bucket. I screamed and then died. I was his thirteenth.

Rebecca was his latest victim and hopefully his last, but as Halloween approaches once again, everyone is nervous. We do not need another dead kid.
(Based off the killings of John Wayne Gacy the Clown Killer)
 






Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

AmySue said...
today at 12:16 am
Stephen King in the making! You have a gift!
 
Site Feedback