It had begun. Police littered your house, checking every room, wiping everything down. They had taken the child's body away for examination, making sure to pick up everything that sat outside your front door.

You sat in your dining room, hugging your arms tightly. Officer Della was back, sitting in front of you and asking you the obvious questions.

"What were you doing when you checked your front door?" He asked.

"I told you, I had been watching TV." You mumbled, staring at your lap.

"And you've never seen the child before?"

"No."

"None of the candy looked familiar to you?"

"It was wrapped in coloured wrapping, I don't know what candy it is." You sighed and rubbed your head.

"Are you feeling alright (Y/N)?" You looked up, Della was staring at you with concern, "You seem pale."

"Just need sugar, remember?"

He nodded, sitting back in his chair. You took that as your cue to stand and walk into the kitchen, rummaging around for your stash of sugars. Finding some butterscotch pieces, you grabbed them and walked back.

Officer Della watched you, eyeing the candy as you popped a piece into your mouth.

"Is that all the candy you have?"

"If you need to go through it then just do it." You huffed.

The officer stopped, before nodding and disappearing into the kitchen. You sighed and covered your face. They still thought you were the murderer? Why? Clearly they should know that you were home when all these murders happened.

So how come they are still suspecting you of all people?

You told them the truth, and much like the cliché movies, they thought you were crazy. What's next?

Eventually, the investigation had to be closed for the night, and soon enough, your house was empty again. The only one still hanging around was Officer Della, his partner Kingsley had already left.

He was standing around the front door, as if contemplating talking to a suspected murderer. You just wished he'd leave, you were tired and wanted to sleep.

"Look (Y/N)..." He finally started, "We have reason to believe that you are the murderer, but that's only because of the clues we've found. The need for candy, being the only one to have seen the killer, and the fact that a dead child magically appeared on your front doorstep."

"But what about the officer you were going to send to guard me?" You crossed your arms, "Surely he or she would have noticed that I didn't even leave my house when these murders happened."

"Officer Hannah, who we had registered to look after you, disappeared not long after she left the compound. We haven't seen her since." Della huffed, almost glaring at you, "Another reason to believe you are the murderer."

Your (e/c) eyes widened, "You mean... The policewoman you sent is... Gone?"

"Yep. No trace of her whereabouts. All we found was her car, it's tires slashed." He frowned, "As if they had been clawed, something you seemed to know the killer did."

"Because he has long claws."

"There is no killer clown. Others would have seen him if this was the case, monochrome or not, clowns don't just blend in the shadows. Why has no one else seen him?"

You groaned and pulled at your (h/l) hair, "Look officer, I appreciate you being concerned about me being the killer, but I'm really tired. It's been a long day, and finding that mangled body on my front door step is going to haunt my dreams. So can you please leave?"

He stood in silence, before shaking his head, "Fine, but I'll be back for questioning tomorrow."

"Or, you could just set up cameras around the area and stalk me." You rolled your eyes, "Talking to you drains my energy."

A small smile crept over his face and he glanced back at you, "Well then, if it's easier, we'll just stalk you then."

"Whatever..." You were beyond caring, the thought of your bed was making you weary, "Just get out of my house."

"Fine, but that means you are under house arrest, you won't leave." He stated, exiting your home, "We'll bring you food and candies and all that crap, you just stay."

Blinking, you stood in your front door, "That's going a bit far don't you think?"

"Well how else are we going to keep an eye on you? If you leave the house and a child is murdered then how can we prove you aren't the killer?"

You pouted, "Yeah okay... Fine."

He smiled almost in amusement, "Have a good night then.. (Y/N)..."

And with that, the last officer left your house. He walked to his car, where his partner sat waiting for him. You watched them talk for a while, before both glancing at your house and driving off down the street.

You grumbled to yourself and closed the door, making sure it locked and walked upstairs. Fantastic, now you're going to be watched like a child on the playground. Like a serial killer.

Whatever, at least with the cameras around you'll be safe.

Right..?

The photo you had supposedly taken of the clown came to mind. If you couldn't catch him in a photo, then what about a video?

Hopefully so, though there was a small pang of doubt as you flopped on your (f/c) bed, wrapping yourself up in the sheets. The next image to appear in your mind was the child's mangled body, which you found outside your house.

A shudder went through you. Was the clown reminding you he was still there? He had to be, but what could that mean?

You let out a sigh, unable to keep your thoughts running, you slipped into unconsciousness.

And sat up. Drenched in sweat.

A dream? Was it all just a dream..?

You groaned and rubbed your head, slowly getting out of bed. Your stomach growled, and you huffed, walking downstairs. Everything was clean, there was no signs of anyone being in your house. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone.

Wow, it really had been a dream, you were back to the day you supposedly saw that killer clown. Which meant you'd need candy. Pouting slightly, you walked to the cupboard, not entirely feeling up to going into town. Hopefully there are some candies left.

You opened the cupboard and screamed. Stuffed into the shelves were children's bodies, twisted and bloodied, candies surrounding them. You stumbled back as the sweets started to flood out of the cupboard, the bodies of the un-named children slowly tumbling out and landing on the ground with a sickening splat.

You covered your mouth and ran upstairs, pulling your phone from your pocket. The clown was real! But how were you back those few weeks? And how where there children's bodies in your house if you haven't even seen him yet?

How did he even know you existed?!

You tried running to your room, but as you ran it got further and further, the wooden door seeming impossible to get to. You gave a frustrated cry and ducked into the bathroom instead, holding your phone close to your chest.

Call for help!

You held your phone up and tried to unlock the screen, but your password wasn't working. It kept coming up saying 'try again'. You let out a whine, leaning against the bathroom wall when you heard something pattering up the stairs.

-Oh what now?- You glanced down the hall and almost screamed.

The clown from the ally stood tall on the stairs, tapping his feet as if he was dancing. He was humming something, his eyes closed in concentration. Hearing you gasp, he only smirked, stopping his dancing.

"Perception is a clash of mind and eye, the eye believing what it sees, the mind seeing what it believes!" He let out a giggle, "So, what do you see? And what do you believe?"

As he said that, a small herd of ghostly children appeared behind him, all ripped open and candy sticking our of their wounds, their heads were mostly leant forward or back, only some stared forward. The clown gave a devilish smile.

"You think you can escape? You're like a weasel, and I'm the monkey. I'll chase you around and around until you go pop~!" He stepped up the stairway and stood over you, his bloody claws reaching for you.

You tried to move, but you were frozen in place. You couldn't move. He seemed frozen in place too, he had stopped walking, and although you were a fair distance from him, you could swear his arms started to grow in length.

He started to hum again, amusement in his eyes as you tried to squirm away from him, the tune now sounding familiar. As he hummed 'Pop-Goes-The-Weasel' the ghost-zombies started to float forward, all letting out tiny whines and groans.

Your heart was thumping in your chest, tears were in your eyes. Finally, the clown's claws had wrapped around your neck, tight around your waist. But his grip only tightened, and you found it hard to breathe.

You let out a whine as you felt his claws pierce into your side, and a heavy pressure in your neck made you close your eyes. Everything went black as you heard a snap, hearing something wet hit the ground, and the clown's cracked voice.

"Pop goes the weasel...~"