Crowding The House

It started when the sun went down at nine. I was spotting some strange men outside of my house. All dressed as clowns. Out of all the damned things to be seeing this Summer, this wasn’t what I was expecting. A group of creepy ass clowns outside of my home? Never been on the list.

Maybe some kind of invasion of the body snatchers type thing. Some kind of freaky human trafficking ring. But a group of God damn clowns? Nah.

That is something that I would expect out of a crappy horror novel. And now I’m living some crappy horror novel. For the past few hours, I’ve been doing my best to keep myself out of these assholes’ sights. I’m not entirely sure if they’re the cause of the missing people this past month. Yet my gut feeling is saying otherwise. These guys must be the ones. I would bet my last cookie that these guys are the ones. They were the ones that kidnapped Roseo from across the street. People said that he just ran off or something like that. In fact, my uncle told me that he ran off with others who were taken. Told me that they were just living in some off the grid place having sex. Sinful sex. Whatever the Hell that means to his stupid ignorant ass.

But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that there are at least five clowns outside. One of each have been trying to get into the house. Luckily the windows have had bars on them since we’ve moved in. Our doors are reinforced. With big locks. Unfortunately, I’ve tried to look for my phone and realized that it’s with my dad. He’s grounded me from it since I went to that pride event. Showing off to the world that I’m a trans man. And that I’m dating a trans girl. Whose parents are loving, sweet, and have had her sent off to her grandmother’s place. All the way to Maine. If she’s sent me letters or anything, I wouldn’t know. Dad’s been taking my mail from me. He is also the person that I’m waiting to come back as he’s my only hope for safety.

I hope.

He comes home a little after six a.m. Seven if work is keeping him later than he anticipated. Right now, it’s twelve-thirty. Six or seven hours of this. All I would have to do is keep awake and keep those creeps out of the house until then. While I crawled along the floor of the kitchen, I kept an eye on the kitchen door. It was locked. The dinner table was against it. But I had this gut feeling again that it wasn’t safe. No matter what I had done to make sure it could be. I did my best to crawl over to the knife block and got up slightly to snag a big knife from there. Barely keeping calm as I spotted one of the clowns leaning against the window over the sink. Or rather leaning against the bars of that window.

Waving at me as he moved his shoulders up and down. Chuckling loudly as he looked down at me. Grinning wider than I would anticipate a human being could. Shoving down the urge to scream, I got up and ran away from the kitchen. Towards the stairs that led upstairs. Hurriedly running up them. Only stopping to check the rooms as carefully as I could. Peering in and turning on the light before going to the windows. My dad’s window was nailed shut. As he was paranoid, someone would break into our house that way. Never mind that our bedrooms were on the second floor. It also showed that the other clowns were getting closer to the house. I quietly shut the thick curtain and turned off the light. Getting a small flashlight out of dad’s nightstand. Check the rest of the rooms on the top floor as quickly as possible. To avoid possibly being spotted by any of those other damned freaks that were surrounding the house.

Despite how strange this seems to be. I had this feeling that they were going to get in one way or another. They were at least half a mile away from the house. And from what I could tell from my spot in dad’s room, they were gaining fast. Without a thought, I grabbed some twine and the axe from dad’s room. Carefully tying the ax with it and putting it up high. It took me a second to get the doorknob tied with the twine. Quietly, I started putting pieces of board with nails in front of the windows. Something in my mind said that the bars weren’t going to keep them out for long. At least not the one that had been in front of the kitchen window. Who had been gone when I came back to it. Carefully I set the boards in a way that one of them wouldn’t be easily seen.

A trick dad showed me.

That way no one can easily break in without hurting themselves. Leaving DNA behind if…if…I can’t think of that. What I do instead is start to make small weapons for myself. Stuff with glass bottles and some gas. I put rags inside and snagged the lighter my dad keeps in the kitchen junk drawer. Peeking up at the microwave, I saw that it was one-ten. Taking a few deep breaths, I hurriedly went back upstairs and headed to the attic door. It pulled down and could be locked. If necessary, I could lock myself inside. There was also a shotgun. My dad’s most prized possession. He told me,’Bobby. This gun is yer papaw’s favorite huntin’ gun.’

‘Don’t ever let me catch you usin’ it until we get you properly registered.’,he warned. Going against this wasn’t something that I ever wanted to do. But I wanted to survive. And I knew enough about gun safety to know that I would be fine. Especially since there are people trying to break into the house. Taking a few deep breaths, I managed to get the drop string to pull the attic stairs. Getting up the stairs, I pulled them up after myself. Hurriedly going to the place that dad put the gun. Pulled it out of its safety box. Loading it before I pumped the damned thing. Hurrying to the tiny window as I checked to see how far the clowns were. Soon as I crossed the room, I heard glass shattering downstairs. Along with something getting forced across the floor. It might have been the damned table from the kitchen; it might have been.

I wasn’t too sure.

All I was sure of is that I was in trouble. Quietly I knelt and pointed the gun to where the stairs were. At first the only thing that was audible to me was silence. No sound of squeaky shoes on the floor. Like you would expect from a clown. Only silence and my ragged breathing. Then my rising heartbeat. A few beats later, I heard screaming. Pained screaming as I feel one or more of those idiots stepped on my boards. Either way, I didn’t move from my position in the attic. Maybe they had gone for those wooden boards. Maybe they didn’t. It still wasn’t worth the risk of being seen. Being caught. So, I kept myself still as I kept Papaw’s gun aimed at the stairs. It wasn’t long until those screams died down and I heard men talking. Muffled men’s voices but nothing discernable. Not like words that were easy to understand at all. Only tones. Angry tones. Obviously one of them was hurt by my little traps down there.

My heart pounded in my chest as I listened to more noises. One of the men screamed that I was a ‘little fucking bitch’. And that he was going to get me. A muffled bike horn sounded not that long later. Along with the sound of something unlocking downstairs. Someone shouted for the person to stop but the thud that intercepted it made me wince. The ax on the front door.

One of them opened the front door and got hit.

It still didn’t make me go downstairs. Despite the loud screaming. I knew it was better to stay put in the attic as I listened for these assholes. One of them talking about how he was going to kill me. Followed by loud thudding squeaks coming up the stairs. It was probably the guy from earlier. The one that called me a ‘little bitch’ or whatever. What followed was a lot of crashing, screaming, and cursing me out. That as soon as he found me, I was dead. Not like the others who were alive. No, I was going to die. And I was going to die a lot slower than his friend just did.

That ax killed one of them.

Good lord, I killed a man. But I also kept quiet as I listened to him and the others running around below me. Looking for me in each room. Grateful that I managed to keep the string up with me. That none of them would just look up for no reason. Not if I don’t make a sound as I kept kneeling in the attic. Breathing slowly, quietly, and as shallow as I can. Staring down at the attic stairs. I’m not sure how many hours had passed while I stayed up in the attic. All I know is that it was a long time before the sun’s rays started streaming into the tiny room. Those men spoke downstairs about how they couldn’t find me. One of them, I think the angry one, pointed out that there was an attic. That I could have hidden myself up in there. They nearly decided against looking into my hiding spot, but the angry one was insistent. My heart pounded hard against my ribs as I tightened my grip against Papaw’s shotgun.

My finger isn’t on the trigger just yet. I didn’t want to risk shooting until I saw one of those fuckers.

Despite the string being up with me, I spotted the door to the attic being yanked down. Blood drained from my face as I took a deep breath. Watching the ladder go down. And hearing someone come up them as they shouted,”YOU STUPID LITTLE BRAT! I’M GONNA KILL YOU WORSE THAN YOU KILLED-“

That was all he got out before he made eye contact with me. And I pulled the trigger. Watching him fall backward as blood sprayed from him. I had shot that man in the face. Shot him and his body, maybe he was alive down there I’m not sure, fell on the others. Who shouted in fear as they tried to check if he was okay. While they did that, I pumped the gun once more. Biting my bottom lip as some tried to go up the stairs. Right until I heard sirens. They were loud and right outside of the house. Those freaks scattered. Shouting about how they had to leave. Some saying they didn’t want to leave without the injured man but were dragged out anyways. Despite the sounds of the squeaky footsteps going away along with the voices, I didn’t move until I heard dad’s voice. Carefully, I walked to the attic stairs, and I stared down them. I called,”Dad? That you?”

“Yeah, who else would it be? Bobby where are ya?”,he called. I told him that I was in the attic, and he came up the stairs. Flinching when he saw that I had Papaw’s gun in my hands and moved it away. That way I wasn’t pointing it at him. Looking relieved, he started climbing up the stairs. As he climbed up, dad asked,”The Hell just happened?”

“…you ain’t gonna believe the night that I’ve just had…”