Lying on my bed and see my room full of clowns. Happy clowns, sad clowns, laughing clowns, even a tall gaunt clown with spindly legs. My mummy thinks I like them and keeps buying me more. I wish I could tell her how much they frighten me. Everywhere I look, I see another clown’s face.

One hundred different clowns, none of them the same. I say my prayers with mummy then count them before I sleep. Snuggled in my duvet I count them once again. This time the number comes up short and there’s a rustle under the bed.

MichaelMichael Brookes
Explorer of the wonders and mysteries of the universe and its denizens. Hold your breath and check out hisĀ The Cult of Me blog.

Read the next drabble – Solace and Dreams

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