Best Creepy Story To Read Online | Short Stories

Short Creepy Story “The Haunted Mask”

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It’s been years, yet the memory of this incident feels so fresh. I was eight years old back then I lived with my dad as my parents were going through a divorce. My dad worked as a nurse at the local hospital, so he had to pull a lot of night shifts; often, whenever he had night shifts, I went to spend the night with my grandma, who lived two blocks away from our house but the night when this incident happened my grandma was out of town. It was a Saturday night, and my dad and I were all set to go out to dinner when his phone rang. After talking briefly, my dad told me he had to rush to the hospital as it was an emergency, but he’ll be back in an hour. He asked me if it would be okay to stay on my own for a while, which I gladly accepted. Being an eight-year-old having the house to yourself felt quite thrilling. He got into his car, and he told me to lock the doors and watch tv until he came back. I watched him drive away and then lock the door. It was my first time being home alone, so I felt like a king. I could do whatever I wanted now, and there was no one to scold me. I drank a lot of juice and ate three scoops of ice cream and two big chocolate muffins without asking for permission. Then I ran into my dad’s office, which always fascinated me. I sat on his big armchair and started to go through the stuff lying on his table. He had a fountain pen that often grabbed my attention. I started writing with it on his fresh white memo pads. After jeopardizing a few pages of the memo pad, I rolled them into a paper ball and aimed for the basket in the corner minutes went by doing all these stupid things. when I remembered about the clown head, a patient of my dad gave him a big rubber clown head before passing away in a terrible accident. My dad couldn’t say no to the man, so he brought it home, but he kept it in the garage no matter how I asked for it. He never let me play with that. I’ve always been a weird kid who was never terrified of clowns. Instead, I like them. I love their goofy appearance. I came out of his office and walked to the garage. The house was so quiet that I could hear my footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. I entered the garage and turned on the lights. The clown head was about a foot tall with no holes for eyes or nostrils. The clown’s face was drawn on; it can be creepy to some people but not to me. As I already said, I had a fascination for clowns. I picked up the clown head, and suddenly a stroke of cold wind brushed through my left shoulder. Holding the clown head, I saw nothing in that empty garage. The clown’s eyes were blue, and his smile was too big to describe as I held the clown’s head in my hands, a weird sensation took over my body. I began to hear a voice in my head; the voice was hush yet shrill put. It what is anyone here just put it on. Before I could realize I was talking to myself, my hands lifted my head and made me wear it. I can’t explain the feeling when my head entered the clown head, but I still feel something hypnotized me, making me wear it using my own hands. I stood like a statue for a moment; the clown head was weird from the inside. A smell of rubber mixed with paint lingered inside the air of the clown head as I snapped out of my state of trance. I realized I didn’t want to play with it anymore. Hence, I decided to take it off when the nightmare began. I casually pulled the clown head, but it didn’t come out. Thinking it might have got stuck, I grabbed the top of the head with both my hands and pulled it again, but the head didn’t move an inch. Drops of sweat appeared on my forehead as I realized the air inside the head had started to warm up, and there was no hole for ventilation in it. I couldn’t see or hear anything, and my breathing got heavy; okay, it’ll come off. I have to pull harder. I told myself to keep calm and not panic. I started pulling the head, but it wasn’t coming off. I tried to slip my finger in to create a gap, but it was stuck around my neck too tightly; what the hell. I tried harder for a few more seconds and finally started to panic. The air inside the head was getting hotter with me panicking, and I started choking and gasping inside it. It was so damn easy to put on but feels completely impossible to take off. Tears rolled down my cheek in fear. I screamed, dad, help me but then remembered I was the only one in this house. I couldn’t make my way outside the garage, and it also didn’t feel safe to walk with this head-on. I feared if I stumbled down, then I’ll get more injured. Slowly I started to suffocate. I grabbed it, pulled it hit it with my small hands, but nothing helped. I screamed and felt even more terrified hearing them cough inside the clown’s head. There’s no way my neighbours can hear me, which means if I don’t take it out myself, I’ll die. My ears turn red, and I can feel my entire face burning. The situation was so claustrophobic that I peed my pants. I was suffering and crying. I prayed to GOD to get me out of this, and I will never look at it again. My paranoia reached such a level that I felt pressure in my neck and vomited at once. The juice muffins ice cream came out of my mouth in the worst form possible and started to float inside the clown head, which was also running out of breathable air. The toxic smell of my vomit mixed with the rubbery smell of the clown head made me realize death is not far away. As I moved left to the right in panic, the vomit moved around my nose and ear, which resulted in me vomiting more and more. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to now. I was choking in my vomit under the worst circumstances possible. My nostrils got blocked by the disgusting fluid, and my ears felt numb. A shrill beep was going in my head that started to blur my vision. I understood that if I didn’t do something quickly, I would not survive. I pulled and pulled, but the head was tighter around my neck. I was trying hard, but suddenly my hand slipped, and I fell on the shelves at the garage wall, trying to regain my balance. I fell to the floor on my back, and the vomited fluid went behind my head and let my nose finally pop out. I was searching for something when my hand picked up a metal tool that had fallen from the shelf. It was a spanner; I placed the pointy arc between my jaw and the clown head and started to put pressure on the head to come out. The spanner created a small gap, and the gooey fluid started to drip from the gap. I kept still until most of the fluid flowed away, and some amount of air flowed in, giving me a chance to fight back once. I regained my sanity; I grabbed the spanner real tight and said to myself that in the count of three, I’d put all my pressure so that the spanner would pull up the clown head one, two, three as I did what I planned a cracking sound took place with horrifying pain that made me scream. The clown head tore from that one corner due to the pressure. Still, my jaw broke and smeared in blood, vomit, and sweat. When I finally took the clown head off, I heard footsteps coming at me while screaming my name Andrew Andrew. Oh my GOD, Andrew, I woke up in the hospital two days later doctor shad to clip my left jaw back, followed by seven hours of surgery; there was nothing to do. No one to blame as it was an accident that happened to a stupid kid who did a stupid thing while being home alone. Luckily, my broken jaw got better with time. I don’t have difficulty talking or eating as steel plates are attached to my mouth to support my facial structure. The only thing that bothers me is my scar. I have this huge scar on my left cheek for me into a disturbing smile. Whenever I stretch my lips, I’ve lost my face forever. Now there’s an invisible clown head resting on me for the rest of my life.

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