The Ice Cream Truck

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


PROMPT: At 3 am you wake up out of a very sound sleep. You hear the ice cream truck outside of your house. And you realize, the sound that woke you up, was the sound of your 4-year-old daughter,
letting the door slam, as she left the house.

Submitted: May 09, 2018

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Submitted: May 09, 2018

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I opened my eyes to a sound in the distance. My black and blue comforter obstructed my view, but I rolled to my back and blearily glanced around my darken bedroom. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So, what woke me?

That strange noise.

Is that a jingle of an ice cream truck? Strange. I looked at the clock, three am. No one in their right mind should be alive at this time.

I went to roll over and go back to sleep, but stopped. That's not the noise that woke me. Drowsiness left me from the familiar creak of my front door opening and closing.

My adrenaline spiked as I jumped out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat placed by the night table. I cautiously walked to my open bedroom door, both hands holding the handle of the bat in an iron grip, and peered out into the hall. I ignored the tremble in my arms as I stepped out of my bedroom and made my way to the main part of the house.

My bare feet made no noise on the hard wood flooring. The light rustle of my sleep pants couldn't compare to the pounding of my heart in my ears. I stopped at the end of the hall and pressed myself against the wall. The light switch was right by my left shoulder. I reached out for the switch, and took a deep breath, before turning the light on. The living room and kitchen of her two-bedroom house flooded with light.

I braced myself for an assault that never came. I glanced around for an intruder, and visibly wilted with relief when I found the living room and kitchen empty. Thank god, I thought as I ran my hand through my chestnut brown hair. I'm not much of a fighter.

I went through the kitchen with a firm hold still on the bat just in case, not yet feeling safe. I checked the screen door that led to the backyard, ensuring that it was locked. I then went to the front door. I startled when I saw both locks undone. There's no one in the house, I told myself, turning both locks. There's no one in the house.

I turned back to the hall and glanced around the living room and kitchen one more time before flipping the light back off. I didn't go back to my bedroom, instead I went to the second bedroom to check on my four-year-old daughter, Cassie. The door stood open like always, the purple and flowered wallpaper and the silhouettes of plush bears being vaguely seen through the darkness. I expected to see my daughter bundled up in her Shopkins comforter with her angelic blond hair just peeking out. What I didn't expect was the bed to be empty.

The bat slipped from my hand as I called out, “Cassie?”

I searched the room, my legs nearly buckling with every second I couldn't find her. I checked the bathroom next, only to find it empty. Where could she be? I then remembered the front door.

I rush there, fumbling with the locks before I yank the door open. The jingle of the ice cream truck grew in volume and drew my attention. There across the street sat an ice cream truck with a line of children along side of the vehicle. I see my daughter, second in line.

The fear pumping through my veins dims and gets replaced with simmering anger. How dare she step out of the house in the middle of the night for ice cream. I start forward, only to come to a stop when the person running the ice cream trunk focuses on me. A clown. Why did he have to be dressed up as a clown? Clowns had always given me the creeps.

Chills ran down my spine at the hard stare. And then the clown's lips spread and formed into the most malicious smiles I've ever seen. His hand snapped out and snatched the child at the window, yanking the young boy through the small window.

Without thinking, I sprinted to the children. Especially to my daughter, who stood next in line.

I swung my bat, not realizing until now that I had picked it back up, and hit the clown in the face. I spun around, wrapping my arms around Cassie and planning on carrying her far away from the truck. The other children I would have to worry about later, but my daughter had to come first.

Before I could take a step, a sharp tug on my hair jerked me backwards. I yelped at the searing pain in my scalp and clawed furiously at the hand that continued to pull me back. A scream tore from my throat at the razor-sharp teeth ripping into my shoulder. Hot liquid ran down the front and back of my chest, and to my horror I realize it must be blood.

For a split second, I think, I'm going to die, but that thought fades and the drive to live soars. I blindly search for my fallen bat, and when I graze the wood I grip the handle like its my only savior. With all the strength I could muster, I swing the bat at the head tearing my shoulder to ribbons.

I hit the ground hard. I gasped, the pain in my shoulder blinding. I attempted to push myself up, but a wave of dizziness overcame me. I had to move. I had to get my daughter and run. Come on body, move.

With a groan, I made it to my feet. I got one glimpse of Cassie before a hand wrapped around my neck. The last thing I ever heard was the jingle of the ice cream truck.


© Copyright 2018 Nikki Black. All rights reserved.

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