My body bolted out of bed bed, a cold sweat clinging to my skin. My mind raced, each thought a splintered shard of glass. Was this real? Was I awake, or was the nightmare still pulling at the edges of my consciousness?
That dream... it still had its claws in me. The hallway, a familiar path to the kitchen, that stretched into a terrifying, endless chasm. Each step I took, the distance grew further and further i went, a maddening, impossible space between me and reality.
But it was my mother who truly chilled me to the bone. At first, she was just as I'd always known her, her familiar face a source of comfort. Then, the transformation began—a slow, grotesque morphing until she became a monster I could never unsee. The memory of it sent my heart hammering against my ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm.
The thought of her, even now, made the sweat on my brow turn icy.
My body bolted out of bed bed, a cold sweat clinging to my skin. My mind raced, each thought a splintered shard of glass. Was this real? Was I awake, or was the nightmare still pulling at the edges of my consciousness?
That dream... it still had its claws in me. The hallway, a familiar path to the kitchen, that stretched into a terrifying, endless chasm. Each step I took, the distance grew further and further i went, a maddening, impossible space between me and reality.
But it was my mother who truly chilled me to the bone. At first, she was just as I'd always known her, her familiar face a source of comfort. Then, the transformation began—a slow, grotesque morphing until she became a monster I could never unsee. The memory of it sent my heart hammering against my ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm.
The thought of her, even now, made the sweat on my brow turn icy.
I heard a knock on the door my mom called my name "Timmy Jake is here to see you." I slowly opened the door and took a sigh hoping the Hallway doesn't stretch like it did before. And right when I stepped out nothing happened everything was normal. I sighed again whipping my forehead.
"Thank God I'm not dreaming." I Said to myself. I was scared for a second that I was still in a dream. I saw my mother opening the door and there stood Jake my best friend. I was so glad to see him plus glad my mother wasn't a giant monster.
Jake stepped inside, brushing his sneakers against the mat. He squinted at me and smirked.
"Dude, you look like a mess. Did you even sleep last night?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Not really. I had this… nightmare. The kind that feels too real."
Jake raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
So I told him. The endless hallway, my mom smiling that horrible smile, her body twisting into something inhuman. Just saying it out loud made my stomach twist.
"Holy crap," Jake muttered when I finished. "That's… creepy. Like, horror-movie creepy."
I gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, well, I lived it. Or dreamed it. I don't even know anymore."
For a second, the room was quiet. Then Jake pulled something from his hoodie pocket and grinned. "Well, lucky for you, I've got something to take your mind off monsters." He held up a brightly colored flyer. On the front was a clown's face—smiling wide, balloons in his hands. "Carnival's in town. Starts tonight."
I stared at it, unease prickling my skin. A clown. Great.
Jake nudged my arm. "Come on, don't give me that look. We've gotta go! It's been forever since something fun actually happened in this town."
I sighed. "I don't know, man. After last night…"
He rolled his eyes. "Tim, we've been best friends since kindergarten. We've done everything together. Bike races, sleepovers, fishing down at Miller's Creek, even those dumb haunted houses on Halloween. Remember when you swore the ghost in the attic said your name?"
I chuckled despite myself. "Yeah. And it turned out to be your stomach growling."
"Exactly," Jake grinned. "We've always chased adventure, no matter how creepy it got. That's us."
He wasn't wrong. Jake and I had been through just about everything together. When other kids were glued to their video games, we were sneaking into abandoned barns, racing our bikes till our legs gave out, or camping in the woods and telling each other scary stories we swore were true. Jake lived for the thrill, and even though I sometimes pretended to be the cautious one, I loved it too.
"Fine," I said, grabbing the flyer. "Carnival tonight. But if a clown eats me, I'm haunting you."
Jake grinned ear to ear. "Deal."
Later that day, Jake and I dragged ourselves through the last hours of school, barely paying attention. The only thing on our minds was the carnival. By the time the final bell rang, we were already making plans, laughing as we stuffed our books into our lockers and bolted out the doors.
Back at my house, we changed out of our school clothes and got ready. My mom poked her head into the room, smiling as she saw us.
"I'm glad you're finally getting out of the house instead of just hiding behind a screen," she said, her voice light and teasing.
I rolled my eyes but grinned. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll have fun."
"You better," she laughed.
Jake and I grabbed our bikes, the metal frames clattering as we rolled them out the door. The carnival wasn't far—just on the edge of town—but the ride there felt like part of the adventure. The air smelled faintly of cut grass and summer heat, and the sun was already beginning its slow dip toward the horizon.
When we finally reached the fairgrounds, a wave of color and sound hit us at once. The carnival lights were just flickering to life, glowing against the twilight sky. Music spilled from the rides, mingling with the smell of buttery popcorn and fried dough. Kids ran past us holding balloons, and the squeals of people on the Ferris wheel cut through the chatter.
Jake's face lit up like he was five years old again. "This is awesome," he said, practically bouncing on his feet.
I couldn't help but smile, too. For a moment, the memory of my nightmare seemed far away, swallowed by the lights, the noise, and the thrill of being somewhere that felt alive.
The smell of popcorn and fried food hit us the moment we rolled up to the gates. Bright lights flashed from every ride, and the air buzzed with laughter and music. Jake's eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Dude, this is gonna be awesome," he said, tossing his bike against the fence. I followed him in, and for a second, I almost forgot about the nightmare. We played a few games, threw rings, and even tried the shooting booth. Jake won a stuffed bear and handed it to me with a grin. "Now you can remember who's the champ." I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. For the first time all day, I felt normal. We grabbed cotton candy, sat on the curb, and just watched the carnival spin around us. Jake leaned back, chewing sugar off his fingers, and said, "Man, this feels like when we were kids. Just you and me, chasing adventures." I nodded, but deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone in the crowd was staring right at me.
Later that night, Jake and I pedaled back to my house, the carnival lights fading behind us like they belonged to another world. By the time we got home, my mom was already half-asleep on the couch. "Don't stay up too late," she mumbled as we darted past her.
In my room, Jake and I set up Mario Kart on the old TV. We played round after round, laughing, trash-talking, and yelling every time one of us got hit by a red shell. For a while, it felt just like old times—no monsters, no dreams, no endless hallways. Just me and Jake being kids.
But sometime past midnight, when the laughter died down and the room was lit only by the glow of the screen, I noticed something. Out of the corner of my eye, through the window, a figure stood in my front yard. I froze, my controller slipping from my hands. A clown. Just standing there, under the streetlight, smiling at me.
"Jake…" I whispered, my throat dry. "Do you see that?"
Jake paused the game and looked out, but the yard was empty. He frowned at me. "Bro, you're seeing things. It's late. We should get to bed."
But I couldn't let it go. My stomach knotted, my skin prickling as if eyes were still on me. I had to know if I was awake—or if the dream still had me.
That's when the house creaked. Not just the floorboards, but the walls themselves, groaning like they were alive. The glow of the TV flickered, the colors stretching and twisting. Slowly, almost too slowly to notice, the wallpaper began to ripple. The air filled with faint carnival music—calliope notes echoing from nowhere.
I turned to Jake, my voice shaking. "Do you hear that?"
He nodded this time, his face pale. "Tim… something's not right."
The room stretched wider, the ceiling higher. My posters curled off the walls, replaced by striped tents and strings of lights. The smell of cotton candy and sawdust flooded the air. My bedroom wasn't my bedroom anymore. It was a carnival. And the clown was no longer outside—he was here, somewhere in the crowd of shadows forming around us.
The air grew thick with a strange music, faint at first, then louder—carnival music, the kind that should've been playful but instead clawed at my nerves. Jake's voice cracked as he grabbed my arm. "Timmy… this isn't normal. What's going on?"
"I'm still dreaming," I whispered, but I wasn't answering him—I was talking to myself, trying to believe it. My chest tightened, my heart racing like I had no control.
Then the lights snapped on—so bright I had to shield my face. When I turned back, Jake was gone. Just… gone. My voice caught in my throat as I called his name, but only the echo of my own panic came back.
And that's when I saw him.
Standing in the spotlight at the far end of what used to be my living room was a clown. His painted grin stretched too wide, his eyes unblinking, fixed on me like I was his only audience. The floor beneath my feet rippled, the walls melted away, and my house wasn't a house anymore—it was a carnival tent, striped red and white, the smell of popcorn and smoke choking the air.
My stomach dropped. I wasn't awake. I was trapped again.
Jake was gone. One second his hand was gripping my arm, the next it was nothing but empty air. My chest caved in. It was like someone had ripped the ground out from under me.
"Jake?" My voice cracked, thin and desperate. No answer. Just the echo bouncing off walls that weren't even walls anymore.
That's when it sank in. I thought I had escaped. I thought this was real life—safe, normal, grounded. But the truth hit me like ice water. I wasn't awake. I was still dreaming. And this time, I was alone.
The lights swelled, hot and blinding, and then a voice thundered from nowhere, a booming carnival announcer.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Step right up and feast your eyes on the one, the only… Bubble the Clown!"
Spotlight. Smoke. The sound of a drumroll that made my teeth ache.
And there he was.
Bubble stood perfectly still, head tilted, his painted grin unmoving. His chest rose slow, like he was savoring every breath. The way he stared, I knew I wasn't just an audience member—I was the main event.
From where I stood, it was almost like I could feel his thoughts. A show wasn't just for laughs. It was for fear. He wanted me scared. He wanted me broken. And worst of all… he was enjoying this.
My stomach sank. I wasn't awake—I couldn't be. The air felt too thick, pressing against my chest like it wanted to smother me. I clawed at my arms, pinching myself, anything to jolt back into reality. Nothing worked. I was still trapped. Still dreaming.
My mind screamed: How do I wake up? There has to be a way out. But the silence that followed was worse than an answer.
Then the spotlight flared again.
Bubble bowed low, hat sweeping across the warped floorboards, his painted grin never once slipping. The booming announcer's voice rattled the air.
"Step right up! Tonight's show is for one boy and one boy only!"
My name echoed in the air. "Timmy…"
My knees locked. The clown raised his head, eyes black pits behind the greasepaint. He didn't speak, not with words. He let the silence drag, stretching tighter and tighter until it snapped.
The ground rumbled, shaking beneath my sneakers. The carnival stage twisted into something alive—balloons inflating on their own, popping one by one, each burst sharp as gunfire. The cotton candy stand oozed pink sludge, dripping into the dirt like melting flesh.
Bubble clapped once, slow and loud. The sound echoed forever. He wanted me to look. To listen. To feel.
I couldn't breathe. My skin prickled. He wasn't just a clown anymore—he was something wrong, something made to terrify me. Every act he performed wasn't a trick. It was a warning.
The show went on—mirrors rising all around me, each one showing my reflection, only they weren't me. In one I was laughing like a maniac, in another I was crying blood, in another I was already lying dead. I spun around, heart slamming in my chest. Every direction, there was only me. Only death.
And Bubble, always in the center, grinning.
Then the music hit—an off-key carnival tune, loud, broken, stabbing at my eardrums. Bubble raised his arms like a conductor, and the whole nightmare pulsed to his command.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer roared, "for the grand finale…"
The spotlight snapped back onto me.
Bubble lunged, arms outstretched, claws ripping through the air.
I screamed—
—only to jolt awake, drenched in sweat, sitting up in bed again. My room was quiet, the sun barely brushing the blinds.
But my chest still hurt. My ears still rang. And I knew this wasn't over. This was only the next loop.