“Jack!!!” I yell as the clowns chase us down the field of dead ferns. The field was muddy and full of dead grass and other plants. It was like a graveyard with all of the bones surfacing from bugs pushing with all their tiny might. I ran for my life as the clowns slowly gained on us waiving their chainsaws and knives in the cold, autumn air.

That’s when I tripped over the arm. It was disheveled and rotting like a leaf long fallen from it’s tree, stepped on and hidden under more and more leaves. I screamed and then the clowns caught me and dragged me away, into the darkness, into their circus of horrors.

I awoke in the main circus tent with clowns circling around me. Their clothes were still stained with blood and I realized that it was my blood. I felt the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, stinging the little cracks and cuts on my chapped lips. I scrambled to my feet, but grimaced in pain and fell back down. I heard the evil laugh of the clowns as they closed in on me, trying to claim my life like all of the other children’s torn up bodies laying in the fields. I looked down at my leg and saw blood gushing out of a slit in my leg. I screamed in pain, but I got up and started stumbling out of the circle.

Then I realized that I would never make it and I had to fight. I started back into the center of the tent where I saw a rusted machete lying on the ground. That’s when they attacked me slicing at my legs and arms with whatever they could find as they rode by on tricycles and bikes.

I collapsed to the ground and screamed with the last of my breath. Then they charged at me. Right when they reached me I woke up. “Marco!!!!” my parents yelled, “Time to go to the circus!!!”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” I screamed.