Serena Van Houten awoke to tapping.
She was tucked into her quilted comforter, eyes closed, grateful that she managed to snag a few hours of sleep when she heard the first tap. It was barely a whispered touch, yet it rang in her ears, taunting her. Eyes bleary from sleep, she turned over and checked her alarm. It was two o'clock in the morning; perhaps she was just hearing things. Entertaining the possibility, she went back to sleep.

The second tap forced Serena's eyes wide open. She sat up in her bed, tired muscles straining. Her twin bed was situated right next to the window with the curtains drawn. Opening them, Serena's eyes were met with complete darkness. Her eyes strained to find the source of the eerie tappings. Yet all she found was nothing.
Attempting to go back to sleep, Serena rolled over and smothered her head with her pillow. She didn't want to hear the eerie melody of tap, tap, tap, tap.

She fell asleep to the sound of tapping.
-.-
Valerie Van Houten couldn't sleep at all.
Finding that note on the veranda had been an overly traumatizing event, something she wished she could close her eyes and forget about it. Yet the scene played out over and over in her head, like a broken record. It replayed in her mind as clear as day.

Valerie's breath fogged up the glass of the window as she stared at the rain outside. It was a chilly morning, typical for Hatfield, yet it was pouring buckets. Licking her chapped lips, she noticed something on the veranda. What was that? Squinting to make out the form on the table outdoors, she rose from her perch on the windowsill. Rushing to grab her jacket, she tip-toed out into the pouring rain, soaking her dirty blonde hair.
She didn't know what caused her to resort to such drastic measures to find a silly piece of paper, yet she felt some magnetic pull to finding out what it was. Valerie couldn't describe it. It was just a feeling. She felt the rain soaking her shoulders, but she trudged on until she picked up the soggy paper.
After reading the note around ten times over, her lips trembled and her eyes grew wide and fearful. Her hands shook as she swallowed down her fear and ran back into the house, feet numb with cold, eyes traumatized. As soon as she was back into the safety of her own room, she cupped her hand over her mouth and sobbed. Out of fear and dread and everything in between.
Valerie tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down. It was just a silly note – it meant nothing, right? She shifted under the covers, tugging them closer to her, trying to block out the world around her. But the fear surrounded her with a vice-like grip.
Just a note...
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Valerie's eyes widened. What on earth was that sound?

-.-
Both sisters arrived at the Hatfield Academy for the Gifted with bags under their eyes, pale skin and traumatized expressions. This appearance only caused more rumors to stir about the Van Houten sisters. What was going on now in that old Victorian home with bricks and grandfather clocks? What sort of witchcraft was going on behind those lace curtains? No one knew. They only assumed.
On their walk back from school, as soon as the gossipers faded into the background, Valerie turned to Serena. “Did you get any sleep last night?” Serena's normally thick chocolate hair appeared stringy and was styled into a rushed ponytail. She looked down at her hands.
“No,” she murmured, hating to appear weak in front of her little sister. She had to be strong or Valerie would start to get scared.
“You heard the tapping too, didn't you?” Valerie had a knowing look on her face as she appraised her sister. Serena turned around, and her face turned paper white.
“It was probably nothing,” she reassured her younger sister. “Just our imagination.”
-.-
There was a delivery on the front porch of the house on the corner of Hemingway Street. It appeared to be a UPS box with the names Valerie and Serena Van Houten written on the top in red ink. As soon as they saw it, both girls looked at each other with looks full of dread. Could they ignore it?

“It could be nothing,” Serena said weakly as she took the box in her hands but immediately dropped it. “It's heavy.” Valerie attempted to pick it up but soon it fell out of her nimble hands as well.

Serena sighed. “Let's just take it inside. Don't want the neighbors to get suspicious, do we?” Yet both of them knew it was too late. Everyone on Hemingway Street had their faces turned toward the two teenage girls as they headed inside with a box full of secrets and threats.
Serena and Valerie dropped the box on the wooden kitchen table. For a while, neither of them did anything but stare at it, wondering what it would bring to them. Breaking the silence, Serena sighed and began to open the box.

Bubble wrap greeted her. A bunch of bubble wrap. Serena's arched eyebrows curved inward as she examined it. “Just a bunch of bubble wrap,” she sighed and began tossing it out of the box one by one. As soon as all of it was gone, she peered into the bottom of the box. As soon as she did, her face became ghostlike.
“Wh-what is it?” Valerie asked, leaning forward, elbows on the table. She glanced down at what Serena was looking at and clenched her fists inward.
It was a bunch of the same story over and over again. The slightly terrifying tale of Clarentine the Clown was written on wrinkled paper over and over and over again like a broken record. Serena looked like she was about to cry as she began shredding the letters. Valerie tried to stop her.
“What if... what if we need to pass it on?” She asked, but it was too late. Serena looked almost manic as she threw the papers into the garbage with a final look on her face.
“We want nothing more of this,” she said with a tone of finality.
Valerie bit down on her bottom lip until it turned white as she couldn't peel her blue eyes off the box.

“What is it, Val?” Serena asked as she bent down to examine the bottom of the box, the message hidden under all the chain letters.
I am not joking. Pass it on.

Valerie Van Houten pinned back the last strand of curly gold hair up into a braid. Scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror, she fixed the strap of her floral skirt and wrinkled her nose. It was Serena's old shirt and it screamed morbid to Valerie. A sick joke.
She descended the steps in her wedges, making her appear to be a little bit more taller. She saw Serena sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper with a determined look on her face. Valerie sighed and took the seat across from her. “Have you decided on anything yet?”

Serena looked up, her blue eyes peering into Valerie's. “Yes I have.” She paused. “We are going to town.”
Valerie dropped the carton of orange juice she was holding. She had a stunned look on her face. “What?” To be perfectly honest, Serena and Valerie never went out in public much. They went to school, yes, but most of their time was spent hiding away in their old brick house.
Serena nodded, looking quite proud of herself. “We are going to town, and we're going to get our minds off of this whole mess.”

Valerie tried not to appear dubious. “Us... in public?” She let out a breathy laugh, yet Serena looked one hundred percent serious.
“And we're going to pretend that we haven't got anything to worry about,” Serena continued. After a moment's silence – where Valerie couldn't think of anything to say – she added, “I like your shirt.”

Valerie looked down at the floral blouse she was wearing and smiled weakly. The thought of getting out and leaving the house made her feel like she could escape the haunting memories of the previous two days and start fresh. “Thanks,” she murmured and chewed her toast.

Serena smiled too, a twitching of her coral pink lips. She had a feeling that today would be better.
-.-
I would be dishonest if I said that heads didn't turn when Serena and Valerie Van Houten walked down the paved streets of town. Heads turned over coffee cups and eyes peered at the pair behind wide-rimmed sunglasses. Yet both girls trudged down the streets – past Barry's Bakery and the Hatfield Jeweler.
“Let's stop for some ice cream,” Serena suggested as they rounded a corner and turned over to the run-down ice cream shop. It looked like a log cabin of sorts – small windows, a handwritten sign, and a promise that it held the greatest ice cream in town.
After ordering, Serena and Valerie ate their mint chocolate chip ice cream outdoors under a purple umbrella. Silence filled the air, along with the chirping of the robins outside. Everything felt calm and pleasant until they heard a muffled conversation.
Deputy Bob Hershey of the Hatfield Police Department and his Lieutenant, Mason Jacoby, were standing outside the police station drinking coffee and chatting amongst themselves. Their deep voices were loud enough so that Serena and Valerie could hear them clearly.
“Ah this case is driving me crazy, man,” Hershey said as he chugged down more of his coffee. Jacoby hummed in agreement as he tapped his knuckles against the license plate of the cruiser.
“But, on the other hand, it is kinda nice for something to happen in this town. 'Ya know – Hatfield, The Town Nothing Ever Happens In,” Hershey continued. Jacoby looked suspicious.
“Well I wouldn't say nothing at all happens in this town...” Jacoby trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Hershey. Some sort of silent communication passed between the two cops as Hershey nodded.
“At least there are no psycho clowns running around killing children, 'ya mean?” Hershey asked gruffly, pulling a cigarette out of his pants pocket. He lit it and offered it to Jacoby who shook his head. Shrugging, he inhaled the smoke.
“Pretty much yes,” Jacoby answered, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He was years younger than Hershey with spiked brown hair and mischievous eyes. After a moment's silence, he spoke up. “It's crazy to think that it happened only fifty years ago. I mean... everything seems so normal now.”

Hershey chuckled. “Yeah, seems being the key word, Jacoby. The ones who were alive when it all happened...” he shook his head. “... still have nightmares, I promise 'ya of it.”
Jacoby nodded, taking this all in. “Do you know the full story? I've only heard bits and pieces, and, you know, most people aren't willing to talk about it.”
“Bet 'ya heard the legend, yeah? Clarentine the Clown?” Hershey let out a gruff laugh. “All jokes aside, yeah I know most of it.” He then turned to Jacoby, wise grey eyes piercing the younger ones’. “Do you want to hear it?”

Jacoby shrugged. “Of course I do. It's one of the greatest mysteries in Hatfield.” Hershey considered this then nodded.
“Well, fifty years ago, there was this clown. His name was Clarentine, and he appeared at all the festivities and carnivals around Hatfield. Kids loved him. He was invited to all the birthday parties, and all the kids had only good things to say about him.” Hershey inhaled. “Strange thing was… nobody knew who he actually was. The person under the painted face and.. 'ya know. People assumed. They guessed he was just some kid looking for a good time. Whatever.”

“Strange things started to happen. People started dying. Rumors stirred about a murderer in this town. Someone attending all these festivals, but no one ever thought it'd be Clarentine. Until one time... This little girl – her name was Sasha Pierce. She was only six-years-old. For her sixth birthday party, her mom, of course, hired Clarentine to show up. Everything was going good; the kids were all having a blast in the bounce houses.”

“Sasha's mom went inside to bring out the food for the party. Sasha and her friends were playing a game of Hide and Go Seek with Clarentine. Clarentine was 'it' and Sasha went out to hide in the bushes. When Clarentine found her – and all her friends were hiding someplace else – he just went at it. He strangled the little girl who was only six-years-old.”

“When her mom came back outside, all the kids were still in their hiding spots. She called for them to go to the table and have lunch, and all except Sasha did. Her mom got worried quickly and began looking around for her with Clarentine behind her. When she found her, she was hysterical. She seemed to piece it together that Clarentine was the one who did it because everybody else outside was her daughter's age. But, when she turned around, Clarentine was gone.”

Jacoby leaned against the railing; his face was pained.

 “People don't know what happened to Clarentine. Nobody ever heard of him again. Who knows what happened with him? Maybe he ran off to some unknown place. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he is still here. Who knows? But, to this day, people will still tell you the tale of Clarentine the Clown.”

Valerie and Serena Van Houten could not take their eyes off of the two cops standing outside of the police department. Valerie put her head in her hands, elbows on the wooden table that held both of their bowls of ice cream. All calmness in the air had ceased, leaving a chilly atmosphere surrounding the two sisters.
The revelation had slapped Valerie in the gut. She couldn't believe it. Things seemed to be starting to make sense for her; yet she was torn about if she was happy about it or not. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she peered in between her fingers and glanced at her sister who remained impassive. Valerie was breathless. “You knew of this...?”
Serena would not make eye contact with her. That seemed to be enough of an answer. She stared down at her empty ice cream bowl. 


“You knew that our aunt-” Valerie began. Her mouth was hanging open, and she stared accusingly at her older sister, realizing that she never noticed the slight tremor in her sister’s lips that erupted whenever she was lying..

 “-Valerie not here,” Serena snapped, narrowing her eyes at her younger sister. She then took one sharp glance at Valerie, and then said, in an abrupt tone, “We are going home.”


Valerie didn't budge. “Nope. You can. I'm going to the library.” And, with those words, she slung her purse over her shoulder and began to walk away. Serena put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“For what?”


“Answers” was the simple reply as Valerie headed to the Hatfield County Library alone.
-.-
The tinkling bell to the Hatfield County Library rung as the fourteen-year-old, blonde-haired blue-eyed girl entered. She gave the librarian a small smile as she headed toward the History & Nonfiction center of the library. The shelves smelled like rust and dust, and dozens of hardback and bending paperback books were organized into alphabetical order.
Valerie Van Houten perused the section for a long time until she found a promising book: The History of Hatfield by Stephen R. Karoff. Nibbling on the corner of her bottom lip, she flickered through the pages until she came across a chapter entitled, Clarentine the Clown.
She took the old rusty paperback in her hands and sat at a small rounded oak table, opening up the book to the appropriate chapter. Chapter Fifteen: Clarentine the Clown.
“Not many people know who Clarentine the Clown truly was or where he originated from. One can only guess. Yet one of the most common explanations for Clarentine's existence was black magic.”
Valerie furrowed her brows.
“Investigators have found an exact replica of Clarentine the Clown in an old shop known for black magic (The Jade Snake). Most citizens guess that the statue was brought to life using some sort of spell or enchantment.”

With those words, Valerie slammed the book face-down and put her head in her hands, trying to control the tremors rising through her body. That couldn't be true... could it? Her breaths came out shaky as her mind raced a million miles a minute.
“You okay?” Someone asked. Valerie looked up through her fingers and saw a handsome boy who looked around sixteen peering at her with concern etched on his face. His hair was a light brown and his eyes a forest green. He was stocking books back on the shelf and raised an eyebrow at her.
Trying to regain her composure, Valerie nodded. “Fine, yeah. Just getting really into this book, you know,” she bluffed, nervously running fingers through her golden hair.
The boy stared at her for a little while longer before returning to organize the books back on the shelf. Valerie felt her face heating up from his stare as she tried to find where she left off in the book.
“The Jade Snake is located just outside of Hatfield and, at the time, was run by an old woman named Leigh Anne. Once investigators arrived at The Jade Snake, she disappeared completely and nobody has heard of her since.”
Could it be true? Valerie thought. Her breathing became ragged again, so she took the book in her hands, stood up and walked towards the checkout. The mysterious boy was there when she handed him the book. Valerie couldn't help but notice his nametag that read Austin.
He smiled at her as he handed the book back, a stamp on the title page telling her to return it in two weeks’ time. “See you around,” he said as she exited the library with flaming cheeks.
-.-
The house on the corner of Hemingway Street was silent when Valerie turned the brass doorknob. She almost tip-toed up the winding staircase, wondering if Serena was asleep or giving her the silent treatment. Either way, she remained quiet as she slipped into her room.
Kicking off her wedges and taking the pins out of her blonde hair, Valerie sat down on her quilted comforter and held the book in her hands. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around all the revelations she had experienced today.
Her aunt was murdered by Clarentine the Clown.
She had never heard much of Sasha Pierce, just the name. To be perfectly honest, Valerie did not much know about the Van Houten family. But, obviously, Serena knew more than she let on.
Perhaps the reason why they had received the letters was because of what happened to Sasha. Maybe there was some connection between Sasha's sixth birthday party and her mother.
Head aching from over-thinking, she let out a long shaky breath and let her head hit the pillow. Yet she felt something sticking out from underneath. Craning her neck, Valerie felt around for what it was and drew out a whole bunch of letters tied together in a rubber band.
Already feeling dread well up inside her, she unfastened the rubber band. The letter on the top said:

Remember not to shred these ones. I'm always watching.
Underneath it, there was that chilling tale of Clarentine the Clown rewritten over fifty times in that same carmine scrawl. Valerie felt the blood rushing in her ears as she held those chain letters in her fingers and watched them slip out. She felt like she was in some sort of temporary daze, where reality had ceased and all she had left was a horrific tale repeating again and again in her head and goose bumps rising on her arms.
Three eerie words kept repeating through Valerie Van Houten's head: Pass it on.

Serena Van Houten heard the sound of someone descending the stairs early the next morning. Groggy eyes searched the room for the source but found nothing. Sighing loudly and stretching her sore muscles, she rose out of the comfort of her twin-sized bed and peered out the window.
It was an overcast morning and it was pouring rain, which seemed to be the usual for the past few days. It was almost like the universe was involved in this horrific predicament that Serena had somehow gotten herself into. Tugging her nightgown closer to herself, she tip-toed out of her room to find the source of the noise.
She didn't expect to see what she did.
Through bleary eyes, Serena made out Valerie's pixie-like form making its way to the front door. She was still wearing her nightgown and her long gold hair was sectioned into two plaits like it always was at night. Valerie was also holding a whole bunch of letters in her hands with a determined look on her usually impish face.
“Valerie, what on earth are you doing?” Serena asked in a raspy voice, hoping her little sister wasn't doing what she thought she was doing. Valerie spun around, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
“I-uh-I um...” Valerie stuttered, looking at anywhere but her older sister. She attempted to hide the stack of letters behind her back unsuccessfully, but Serena squinted and could make out the terrifying red handwriting that she had grown so acquainted with the past few days.
“Valerie, what are you trying to do with those letters?” Serena raised a suspicious eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, watching her guilty little sister squirm.
“Nothing. Just... getting rid of them,” Valerie stumbled.
“And why is that something you have to sneak out at,” Serena checked the grandfather clock, “Four in the morning to do?”
Valerie finally met Serena's eyes. She looked scared. “I... I got these letters last night. And, Serena, he got into the house.”

“He?” Serena asked, trying to not let her fear show, swallowing it down.
“Whoever is giving us these letters. They got into the house. Here, look at them.” She handed the letters to Serena.
Remember not to shred these ones. I'm always watching.

The words echoed through Serena's head, making her feel dizzy. Holding onto the doorframe for support, she closed her eyes. For once in her life, Serena Van Houten felt helpless. What could she do? Call the police? She doubted they would listen to her anymore. Not after what happened.
“So I thought the only thing to do was pass them on,” Valerie concluded in a shaky voice. 

Serena shook her head. “No, we can't do that. It's not an option.”


It was Valerie's turn to raise her eyebrows. “And, why not? Just to keep safe.”

Serena stepped closer to her younger sister, speaking in a sharp low tone. “Look, if any of these letters are traced back to us, we are done for. If someone finds out we are passing on those letters, you know what will happen.”  Dark blue eyes piercing, Serena took the letters out of Valerie's hands and stalked away.
“Wait!” Valerie called, but it was too late. That wild, animalistic look back in her eyes, Serena Van Houten took the set of Clarentine's letters and tossed them into the fireplace. Both sisters watched in horrified fascination as the letters disintegrated into a puff of smoke.
Looking proud of herself, Serena turned to Valerie. “See? We aren't going to let those letters control us.”

Valerie looked torn. She thumbed the ends of her braids as she tried to process what had just happened. After a pregnant pause, she barely whispered, “What if that was our last chance?”
Serena looked doubtful. “What do you think is going to happen? Some psycho clown is going to break into our house? Clarentine has been dead for a while, Valerie.”


“How do you know that?” Valerie challenged, already starting to walk back upstairs. Serena followed her.
“That whole fiasco was fifty years ago, Val. He's got to be dead or extremely old.”


Valerie was silent for a while. She hurried up the steps, hiking her nightgown up to her knees. Yet, on the final step, she turned towards Serena. Her face was unreadable, blank. Eyes distant, she asked in a quiet tone, “But what if he isn't human?”

Yet again, Serena had no answer.
-.-
Valerie spent the rest of that overcast October day pouring over The History of Hatfield. She didn't find anything else of significance, only re-reading the passages about Clarentine, trying to absorb as much information as she possibly could. One thing stuck in her head:

The Jade Snake had something to do with Clarentine. It couldn't be some eerie coincidence that Leigh Anne's sculpture was the exact same as the clown. Valerie had a feeling that something very dark lurked inside that shop.

Which led her to the conclusion that it was certainly possible that Clarentine wasn't human. It made sense. How nobody ever knew the person under the blood-red hair and painted smile. How he never seemed to get caught. How he managed to flee the scene of her aunt's death in seconds. How he still seemed to have a rule over the people in Hatfield, even fifty years later.
But just the thought of him being inhuman made Valerie want to hide under her covers and shut the world out. She wasn't sure she wanted to face the possibility that those letters that were on her bed were delivered by some sinister force. Yet it was the only thing that made sense.
Shutting her book, Valerie leaned against her pillow and shut her eyes. Maybe for just a few hours, she could escape Clarentine the Clown.
-.-
Serena Van Houten sat on the veranda that October night, feeling the chilly air rush through her chocolate hair. She felt calm watching the stars and managed to forget about the whole mess for just a few sweet seconds. She was just about to drift off to sleep when she made out a small piece of paper flying in the night wind towards her. Furrowing her brows, she watched as it landed on her lap. Already feeling dread, she unfolded the note and read the following words: Do you want to know what happens to people who know everything, but do nothing?

It had been ten hours since Serena Van Houten received that chilling note, and it had been ten hours since she had slept. Here she was, sitting stiff and upright on her bed, propped up against the fluffy pillows, staring straight ahead. Her waist length brown hair was disshelved from tossing and turning in the duvets, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot from her fearful cries.
Serena was at a stand-still. She had no idea what she was going to do. Valerie had suggested passing on the notes, but Serena was not willing to do that. She couldn't risk passing on the notes and having it traced back to her and Valerie. She had always been a rational person; but, at the moment, she felt anything but rational. Sighing in fear or exasperation – she didn't know- Serena stretched her numb limbs and decided it was time to finally do something.
-.-
“What do you know about The Jade Snake?” Valerie Van Houten asked Austin as she thumbed through yet another history book about Hatfield. They were sitting around the long wooden tables in the middle of the library, whispering amongst themselves.

 Austin glanced behind him, checking for people. “I... I was once re-stocking some History books. I randomly opened one and...” he trailed off.

“And what?” Valerie asked softly, watching his face closely. It was such a handsome face with slightly spiked brown hair and muddy green eyes. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.
“There was a photograph of the statue in The Jade Snake,” Austin told her, looking down. “I was so shocked then that I just slammed the book shut.”

Valerie stiffened, listening to his words. “You... you saw a picture of it? What did it look like?” She leaned forward in her chair, until she noticed that their hands were almost touching. She jerked hers back.
“He was really freaky looking. I mean, he looked like one of those psycho clowns out of horror movies. I seriously have no idea why he was so well-liked,” Austin told her.
Valerie was silent for a moment, mulling over everything that she had just heard. “Do you think its possible that the book is still here?”

Austin nodded.
“I haven't seen anyone check it out since. Let me go check.”

He rose and headed over to the section that held all the legends and stories about Clarentine the Clown, located right next to where he and Valerie were sitting. She was left behind to think about everything she had just heard.
Barely a minute later, Austin came back, holding a thick leather-bound book in his hands. “Here it is. The exact one. I opened it up somewhere in the middle,” he said as he shuffled to the center. He leafed through a few pages until he stopped short, freezing as he did so.
“Except this wasn't in it last time.”

Valerie took the book out of his hands and stared at the photograph in front of it.
There was the statue of Clarentine the Clown – carmine hair, ivory face, dead black eyes, baggy polka dot pants and a frilled rainbow shirt. The image was so horrifying – so unbelievably eerie and terrifying – that Valerie had such a bad taste in her mouth and her head started to spin. But, what simply added to the fear factor, was the message painted on top in the same red scrawl that had haunted Valerie's nightmares for the past few days
Whoever reads this first is cursed! Pass this onto at least twenty people you know, or you will be visited by Clarentine the Clown.
Valerie felt her legs shake. Austin. Austin read it before she did. She turned to him with a ghostly pale face, but he looked surprisingly unaffected. He just shook his head.
“I don't believe in stuff like that.” And, with that, he put the book down and shrugged. “Clarentine's dead.”

Valerie put her head in her hands, trying to stop the sound of all her blood rushing in her ears. “What about The Jade Snake?”


Austin rubbed his temples. “Honestly, if Clarentine is still alive, why is he doing absolutely nothing? Why isn't he killing everybody he sees? This was probably just someone messing around.” He studied Valerie for a second. “You're scared.”

Valerie shrugged, seeing no point in denying it.

Then Austin did something that Valerie was not expecting, he reached across the table and took her hand. “Don't worry, okay? People do this all the time.”

Valerie looked down. “I don't know. What if he isn't dead? What if he is just looking for the right time to strike?”


***
The man at the Visitor's Center looked at Serena like she was simply crazy. He was graying with sideburns and glasses perched on the edge of his nose with a sour look adorning his face. “And why are you, Miss Van Houten, looking for where The Jade Snake is?”

Funny, Serena thought to herself, He knows my name, and I hadn't even told it to him. But, of course he did. Because he knew what she was known for. I do too.

Serena swallowed hard. “Is it really any of your business?” She asked as she leaned against the wall of the booth, sick of this old man already. “Just give me the address, and I'll leave.”


The old man rubbed his temples. Serena read his nametag: Hansen. “Fine, but you are warned, missy, it is a dangerous place with strange influences around.” Hansen sighed and took out a post-it note from his desk. He scribbled down an address on it with a reluctant hand and gave it to Serena. 
He looked at her, serious. “If I hear something bad happens when you are there, it isn't my fault, okay?”


Serena rolled her eyes and took the post-it note. “Okay.”

She had already walked out of the Visitor's Center before she read the neon yellow post-it note. In Hansen's messy scrawl, Serena could make it the following address:

0066 Candlelight Drive
Lantern Lake 66001
Serena looked at the address, squinting to make sure she had read everything right. Then, nodding to herself, she fisted the note and put it in her purse. She knew her destination now.

Amma-May was an enigma of a young woman with auburn hair and bangled wrists. She was leaning against the counter, having a quick smoke, when Serena Van Houten walked into The Jade Snake. She raised her eyebrows at the young woman.

“Welcome to The Jade Snake,” she intoned in a melodious voice as Serena maneuvered past the beaded curtain and past the voodoo dolls.
“Um, thank you,” Serena coughed awkwardly, looking anywhere but the voodoo dolls. “Is it possible that I could speak to Leigh Anne?” She fiddled with the strap of her purse, looking extremely nervous and timid. Completely different to how she felt exiting the Visitor's Center.
Amma May smiled condescendingly at Serena, her jade eyes anything but comforting. “Honey,” her accent had a slight Southern twang to it, softened by her breathy tones, “Leigh Anne has been dead, and Leigh Anne has been dead for a while.”


Serena bit her lip, thinking. “Well, would it be possible that I could have a look at something?” Her question was vague, but her intention was clear. Amma May pretended not to understand.
“Well, take a look around. We just got some ventriloquist's dolls ordered in -”


Serena looked at her name tag. “Ma’am -”


“- and, there are is a huge assortment of potions to look at-”


“- Show me where your statue of Clarentine is right now,” Serena was surprised by how strong her voice rang through the claustrophobic shop that's air was thick of spices and potions.

Amma May looked caught off-guard, dumb-founded. It took her a second, but then her eyes darkened to a low tone of earth. “I suggest we do not do that, sweetie. There are rumors about certain, er, powers that that statue has.”


“Well, have you seen it?” Serena asked stubbornly.
Amma May shook her head.
“Do you know where it is?” 
Amma May finally nodded.
“Show me it. What harm can a statue do?”

It's kind of funny, looking back on the whole fiasco that plays afterwards. I am fairly certain that if Serena knew what would happen after she took a peek that she would not have said those words. What harm can a statue do? What harm could a statue do?

-.-
Serena was not home when Valerie Van Houten ascended the stairs of the house on the corner of Hemingway Street. As soon as the door shut behind her, Valerie knew something was off. The house felt… empty. The grandfather clock rang, intoning that it was twelve o'clock. Midnight. Where was Serena?

Valerie checked her sister's bedroom. She was nowhere to be found.
The bedroom. The bathroom. The living room. The kitchen. The veranda.
Serena was nowhere.
And it scared the wits out of Valerie.

After everything that had happened today – with finding the book that Austin had stumbled across, and reading the words written in red ink, Valerie could really have used having a long-talk with her sister. But all she found was empty halls and abandoned beds.

 Where would Serena be? It's not like her sister ever left the house that much, and Valerie highly doubted that Serena was going out hunting for Clarentine. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Sighing to herself, and trying to control the shaking in her hands, Valerie closed the door to her bedroom. Locking it, she threw herself onto her bed and shut her eyes.
In the dark and in the quiet, Valerie could silently admit to herself that Clarentine the Clown was still out there. The notes and the red nose and the way her family was woven into the tapestry of his story, he certainly was out there and waiting for the perfect time to strike.

But what about Austin? What would happen to him? He had nothing to do with this, he was innocent and should not be brought into this dark, dark fantasy that had somehow become her reality. Cursed. Cursed. Cursed. Cursed. Cursed. The words rang through her head and would not stop, like a terrifying song on repeat.
-.-
Amma May led her through various long halls, filled with effervescent potions and beaded curtains, Serena timidly following her. Mentally, she was preparing herself for what she was about to see. Deep in her gut, she knew it would be terrifying.
Finally, Amma May paused in her tracks. She slowly turned to Serena. “You ready to see this, sweetie?” Her Southern twang muted by her breathy tones. Serena nodded. “Okay.”
Amma May opened the door.
Carmine hair, ghostly pale face, beaded black eyes and sickeningly bright clothing, a very realistic statue of Clarentine the Clown greeted Serena Van Houten. A smile was adorning his red painted lips that somehow looked false, but his eyes were manic with animalistic hunger.
There was a small imprint on the palm of his hand, right underneath his frilly sleeve. Seven. Furrowing her brows, Serena turned to Amma May who was shaking. “Seven?” she almost whispered, her voice hoarse.
Amma May nodded. “There was this legend running around that Sasha Pierce's mother had heard Clarentine whisper something the day her daughter died. She swore that, right before they played hide-and-seek, that he said he was gonna make seven souls suffer. And she said that she saw him with the number 7 on his palm.”

Seven souls suffering, Serena silently pondered to herself. Seven souls suffering. Her legs began to tremble. Her mouth was dry. Clarentine would make seven souls suffer, and Serena was ninety-nine percent sure that she was one of them, and was one-hundred percent sure that Valerie was.

Sasha and Eleanor Pierce were whispering amongst each other, laughing to themselves. They were running around their house on the corner of Hemingway Street, holding their identical dolls, Hollie and Mollie. Victoria Pierce let out a long exhausted sigh as she checked the clock again. The guests were arriving at twelve-thirty. Clarentine would be here any minute.
“Mommy!” Sasha called, her long black pigtails swinging as she skipped. “I think I see Clarentine coming!” All day she had been like this – bouncy and giddy – for it was her sixth birthday that day. Her younger sister, Eleanor, just played along with it.
“You do?” Victoria rubbed her temples, already putting on her pleasant welcoming face and straightening her floral collared dress. She had always been a rather professional woman; but, right now, she was off her game. Maybe because of the nightmare she had the night before.
Everything was blurry, almost like she was underwater, looking above. She could make out Sasha's pixie-like form, and Eleanor's petite little arms and legs. The bounce houses were full of laughing children, but it sounded far away, like she had water in her ears. All she could hear was muffled laughter and more laughter.
She saw Clarentine approaching the bounce houses, his flamboyant apparel glinting in the sunlight. He had that same artificial smile plastered onto his dark lips. Except something was different about this smile. It wasn't friendly. It was wild, animalistic. And it sent goose bumps up Victoria's arm.
She swallowed hard as she saw Clarentine walking where Sasha was. Sasha didn't seem to notice his eerie demeanor as she giggled at something he said. Victoria tried to swallow her fear. She was ninety-nine percent sure her mind was just playing tricks on her, just like it had been doing lately. Right?
As soon as Sasha smiled one last time and ran off, Eleanor skipped over to where Victoria was standing. Instead of her usual content smile on her face, she looked troubled. She ran straight into her mother's arms. Victoria held her tight, not sure what to say.
“You okay, honey?” Victoria asked softly, leaning to kiss the top of her youngest daughter's head. Eleanor was shaking.
“N-no, mommy,” She cried into her mother's arms. “Th-there is something wrong with Clarentine.”

Victoria stiffened, hoping that her suspicions wouldn't be confirmed.
Trying to keep any form of trembling out of her voice, she asked, “What's wrong, honey?”


Eleanor began to full on sob, tightening her grip on her mother's waist. “He's... he's scaring me, mommy!”


The doorbell rung, signaling that Clarentine had arrived. Victoria slouched back into her comfortable arm-chair. She debated not even opening the door. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to think logically. She couldn't let a stupid nightmare affect her. That would be childish. Stupid.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Victoria rose from her chair and opened the door.
She would be lying if she said that she wasn't scared of Clarentine. For some reason, she always deep-down despised the clown. Normally, she was perfectly fine with clowns – but there was something... off... about Clarentine.
Perhaps it was the red hair. Or the painted face. Or the creepy smile that always adorned his lips. Either way, Victoria cringed on the inside whenever she was within a one-mile radius of the clown.
She put on her best hostess smile and said, “Hello, Clarentine. Thanks for coming.”

Clarentine's false smile grew wider, but he didn't say anything.
He stepped into the house, grinning at everything around him. Sasha ran up to him, her pig-tails flying all around her and began spouting off curious questions, talking a mile a minute.
Eleanor hung back, leaning against the doorway, eyes wide, with a timid look on her face. Victoria walked over to her and put her arm around her. “You okay, honey?” she whispered in her ear.
Eleanor's legs trembled. “No.. no..” she whimpered into her mother's ear. “L-last night, I had a nightmare 'bout Clarentine.”

Victoria froze. It couldn't be possible, could it? Her ears must have deceived her. She tried not to let her fear show. “It is just a dream, El. I wouldn't worry.”


-.-
“Let's play Hide and Seek!” Sasha giggled, two long pig-tails swishing in the air around her as she skipped around. Clarentine agreed silently with an eager nod of his head. Eleanor Pierce found it very strange that he had never said a word the whole time. It was kind of odd to her that none of the other children picked up on that.

The kids all agreed with their hiding spots and set out to keep away from Clarentine the Clown. Sasha and Eleanor decided to huddle up together behind a rosemary bush, and they both giggled as they saw Clarentine confusedly search for the children. Eleanor's long blonde ponytail must have caught his attention though because  his eyes started to gleam with a mischief that made both of their legs tremble.
“I found you,” he whispered hurriedly – the first words they had ever heard him say. There was a certain coldness to his tone that made Eleanor shiver involuntarily. His voice was wild and frantic and certainly not human. Sasha giggled and smiled, unaware of the way he was side-eyeing the two girls.
What happened next happened so quickly that it is almost impossible for me to recount. One second, Clarentine was looking at them; and, then the next, his pale hands were wrapped around Sasha's dainty neck. There was a moment of struggle. A couple quick horrific seconds to which I stood, frozen in shock, unable to do anything.
The door to the house creaked open and Victoria Pierce exited the confines of her home. She narrowed her eyes as she held the tray with the chocolate birthday cake and glanced around the backyard.
Eleanor breathed heavily. “Wh-I-uh is she okay?” She stuttered, running a scared hand through her long ponytail.
Clarentine turned to Eleanor. “You are getting off this time, but I swear I will make seven souls suffer. And you are one of them.”

He gave her one last look and laughed maniacally as Victoria came over to where Eleanor stood, shaking. Just before he disappeared, Eleanor noticed the 7 ingrained on his palm.
Victoria's eyes were wide as she looked at Sasha's unconscious body. Her mouth fell open as she looked at Eleanor, disbelieving. “What is...?”


Eleanor crumpled down onto her hands and knees and sobbed loudly. She could care less that she was squatting down on sticks and stones.“It... it.. it's Clarentine, mommy! Clarentine the Clown killed Sasha! I told you we should not have let him come!”

“It's really peaceful out here,” Valerie whispered as she breathed in the fresh Autumn air, closing her eyes. Her long gold hair blew softly in the wind. It seemed like today was the first day that she could breathe, and she wanted to keep the feeling in her as long as she could.
Austin nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured and continued staring at the sun shining down on the both of them. Valerie stared at his profile – brown hair swept to the side, forest green eyes, fair skin. He looked deep in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Valerie asked curiously as both of them walked down the pathway in the park. The trees surrounding them had become somewhat bare; all of the leaves had turned deep shades of carmine and gold, pale yellows and deep oranges. For a second, Valerie admired the beauty of what was before her. This was the reason why Autumn was her favorite season.

Yet she could safely say that this was the worst Autumn of her life.
“Everything,” Austin answered vaguely, the sun reflecting off of his light brown hair, making it look like a shade of gold. 

“Meaning...?” Valerie asked, eyebrows raised. “The book you found in the library?”


To her surprise, Austin laughed. “No. Are you still thinking about that, Valerie? Because, if you are, just stop. It isn't a big deal. People make jokes about it all the time.”


The words slipped out of Valerie's mouth before she could stop them. “This isn't a joke.. It's been going on for a while.”

And, just like that, Valerie Van Houten told Austin Kingston about her chilling encounters with Clarentine the Clown from the start to the finish. From the crumpled up note on the veranda and the red nose, to the deterioration of her life ever since. She didn't have a real logical reason why she told him, but she trusted Austin and she just really wanted to tell somebody what had happened.
Austin was silent for a while after that. He seemed to be thinking over everything Valerie had told him. Finally, he spoke in quiet tones. “And you are sure this is Clarentine because...?”
“Because I just feel it, you know? I know something has been going on recently. I always feel like someone is watching me.” After she said that, Valerie drew her arms around her sides and rested her chin on her knees. She didn't look at Austin, just stared forward.
Austin turned her head around. “Hey, look at me. Nothing's going on, okay?”

“You don't know that -” Valerie protested.
“- Yes, I do. Come on, Valerie, think about it. Do you really think he's still around?”

“I don't-”

 “Just think about it-”


“-But-”

Austin cut Valerie off with a kiss to her lips.
To say Valerie was caught off-guard would be an understatement. Her eyes were wide open with shock before her body caught up with her, and she shut her eyes as well.
They stayed like that for a while, kissing each other, until Valerie felt the feeling of something blowing in the air. Opening her eyes and separating herself from Austin's tight grip, she looked at what had disturbed them. Squinting in the sun, she glanced at the strange white document.

 An envelope.
Furrowing her brows and trying to ignore the twisting of her stomach, Valerie reluctantly got up and scrutinized the envelope. It didn't look like anything special, just blank and a crisp shade of white. The only thing setting it apart from other envelopes was the writing on the front: Look inside.
The writing wasn't the normal shade of crimson that Valerie Van Houten had begun to dread. It looked like the type that would belong in a newspaper of sorts – bland and bleak. Yet there was something about the writing on that envelope that made her queasy.
Austin didn't move, just stared at her.
“What is it?” he asked.
Valerie looked up. “Honestly, I have no idea,” she shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Inside she was screaming. What was in there? Tremors rising in her hands, she slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was... nothing.
Confusion muddling her mind, Valerie double-checked the envelope, still not getting anything out of it. She looked up at Austin with a confused look.
“It said 'look inside' but there is nothing in there.”

She handed it to Austin who checked yet again, but came out empty handed also. He had a look of intense concentration on his face – eyebrows furrowed, eyes distant. Finally, he shrugged.
“I honestly have no idea,” he said, staring at the two words on the outside of the envelope.
Look inside.

Look inside.
Look inside.
But there was something evident in his forest green eyes, some hidden knowledge, some understanding. Austin and Valerie were quiet for a few moments before he looked up at her. He looked very serious as he ran a hand through his light brown hair.
“Maybe it means something different than you think.”

After Austin said those words, everything seemed to click. Look inside. Clarentine the Clown wasn't talking about the envelope. He was speaking of something far worse. There was nothing in that envelope. But there was definitely something in the house on the corner of Hemingway Street.

Creak. Creak. Creak. The brass knob on the front door of the house on the corner of Hemingway Street made a squeaking noise as she turned the lock. Anticipation coursed through her as her eyes navigated to and fro the front door of the house. Once she did, she dropped the key.

The old Victorian home was anything but recognizable. For years and years on end, Valerie had grown accustomed to how the house on the corner of Hemingway Street looked like. Neat and tidy, perhaps a little dusty, and everything had that ancient glow about it. It was comfortable, even though it looked anything but from the outside.
Yet, now, standing right in front of her, was destruction. An utter mess. Couches and coffee tables were thrown upside down in a fit of rampage, paintings turned to the other side, smashed china, and knick-knacks scattered across the living room.

Valerie was too scared even to move. If she moved forward, she would drop like quicksand into the ground. She felt a warm liquid rising in the crevices between her toes. Looking down and taking a sharp inhale of breath, Valerie realized she was standing in warm red liquid. Lips quivering in panic or shock – she couldn't tell – a scream escaped her throat. As soon as she did that, she clamped a hand over her mouth. What if someone was inside the house?
Frozen in place, her eyes surveyed the rest of the damage.
The television screen had cracks all around it. The old antique lamp was thrown haphazardly on the wooden tiles. Pillows were torn apart, stuffing scattered all around the living room. Valerie checked behind her. The front of the house had appeared extraordinarily ordinary; but, inside, it was hell.
Summoning the courage to move, Valerie put one bloody foot in front of the other.

 Yet, as soon as she heard the noise, she stopped.
Footsteps. Nimble, soft footsteps that wouldn't have been heard if she hadn't been paying extra attention. And, if Valerie's senses were reputable, they were coming towards her.

She tried to swallow, but she found that her feet were planted onto the ground in sticky blood. What was going on?
Click. Click. Click. Click. The sound of those old brown wedges, Serena's favorite shoes. Already feeling her breathing calming, she heard the door open.
-.-
The long walk back from The Jade Snake had taken its toll on Serena. She had to travel through five miles of pure forest in the early hours of morning, meanwhile being extremely terrified. Yet she had to make sure that Valerie was safe. She just had to.
After hearing the ground-breaking news of the Seven Souls, Serena had never feared more for Valerie. She knew her little sister was in grave trouble. Trouble that had rooted all the way to the 1950's – to the days of Eleanor and Sasha Pierce.
Desperate to let her sister in on everything going on, she had run the whole way. In an almost metaphorical way, she was running to her problems instead of away (which she was usually guilty of). But she kept one foot in front of the other, and showed up at the front door to her and Valerie's house at five AM in the morning.
She had found the door unlocked, letting her know that somebody was in. Hoping dearly that it was Valerie, she turned the rusty old knob and found her sister, frozen in place on the front doormat, feet coated in red sticky blood.
-.-
“What?”
Too traumatized to speak, Valerie shot her sister a look. Her blue eyes seemed to beg Serena to move forward. Which she did.
Once Serena's eyes noticed all of the damage done to their house, her legs began to shake. She looked more terrified than Valerie. Hands and knees swaying back and forth with tremors, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
She gasped. “I am so, so sorry, Valerie.” Breaths coming out shaky and uneven, she tried to move towards her sister but tripped over an old antique that had sat in that house for hundreds of years.
Valerie swallowed hard. “Sorry for what?” She didn't like the way that it sounded. It sounded pitiful and guilty, and like she was saying her last words to her. Valerie turned to look at her sister who was sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth.
“I- I should have told you,” Serena managed through her sobs. 

Blinking in confusion, Valerie asked. “What?”

“I AM SORRY!” Serena whimpered again, fresh tears pouring out. Yet, this time, her eyes were not directed towards her little sister. Her glassy eyes were looking straight ahead, up the winding staircase, and all the way up to the top floor of the house.
Dread rose in Valerie.
“Sorry for what?” She demanded this time, stronger. She felt anger surging through her. Serena was shutting her out again. Here Valerie was – pale feet coated in blood, sweat sticking to her forehead – standing in front of utter ruckus, and her sister still wasn't letting her know what was going on.
Serena obviously knew.
Why so reluctant, then?

“I really am, Valerie, if I'd had known...” Serena managed, looking anywhere but at the chaos inside. Her chestnut hair had fallen out of its long braid, flyaway pieces sticking everywhere. Yet the most unnerving thing about her appearance was her eyes. Her eyes were usually so strikingly beautiful – a blue deeper than Valerie's – and they had always looked guarded. But, at that moment, her eyes were wild and manic. Fearful. Terrified. Savage.
“If you had known what? What are you sorry for? And what is going on?” This time, Valerie was yelling. She yanked at the end of her blonde ponytail in frustration, just wanting to know why their house was ransacked. She wanted to know why their large mirror in the living room had I gave you so many chances written in blood all over it.
Serena inhaled sharply, now finally making her way to her feet. She took a step forward, towards her sister. “I'm sorry Valerie that I hadn't told you this. We don't have much time. But I want you to know that he is still alive and is seeking you out because of our mother. That's all I can say because he is in this house right now.”

The sterile white room and pristine walls greeted Eleanor Delilah Pierce with a sense of bitterness. Or maybe that was just the sour taste in her mouth as she navigated the long and winding halls, having absolutely no idea where she was headed. A young blonde-haired woman, who appeared to be a receptionist, flashed her a small smile filled with pity and walked towards her.
“Ma'am, have you signed in?”
She can tell, thirty-two year old Eleanor Pierce thought, she can tell that I am mental and in need of this loony bin. Sighing loudly, Eleanor whispered in a distant and unattached voice. “No. I think I'm lost.”
The receptionist, whose name read Heidi, smiled at her like she was a little child. “Okay, honey, well, follow me and we will get you all ready, okay?”

Eleanor blinked a couple of times, deciphering what the strange young girl had said to her. Her mind kept spinning off in different directions, making her physically dizzy. She shook her head to clear her mind. “Okay,” she finally whispered for she was so lost and tired and just wanted to curl up in a ball and shut the world out.
Heidi led Eleanor through many twists and turns that she was paying no attention to. Her mind was running a mile a minute. She thought of the one catalyst that led to all of these emotional breakdowns. She thought of how the cold tile stung her bare feet. She thought of the stuffy feeling of this facility and how she desperately wanted to break free from it already. But, mostly, she thought of Serena and Valerie, her two children. Valerie was only one year old and Serena was five years old. What would happen to them?
She had just been torn apart from them. They had been told she had unfortunately passed away. Being young and small, they took everything at face value.
She supposed Louis would have to take care of them. He'd have to.
Wait, Louis was dead, Eleanor reminded herself. Sometimes her brain had a hard time catching up with all the recent... events.
Like that letter that had brought back so many chilling memories.
Heidi cleared her throat, forcing Eleanor back to reality. She blinked a couple of times, trying to remove the dancing spots from behind her eyelids. She found herself in a room that greatly resembled a jail cell to her: a small, closed off space with only the necessities.
So this is where the crazy people go, she pondered as Heidi put a rusty old key into the doorknob. Eleanor kept her feet planted firmly on the ground, trying to stop the spinning of her head.
The door creaked and Eleanor stepped into the room that smelled mostly of Windex and fresh sheets. She inhaled sharply as she glanced at the utter blankness of the room. It wasn't homey like her big brick house on the corner of Hemingway Street which was filled with old books she had read and pictures from milestones in her life.
This wasn't hers.
This belonged to a lunatic. A lunatic, I tell you! Heidi asked her a couple questions off of a clipboard then told her to get some rest. Eleanor didn't protest because her mouth was dry, and she felt truly numb. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
She would figure everything out. If she was able to.
-.-
Eleanor Delilah Pierce had been in the Hatfield Home for the Mentally Impaired and Disabled for six months in that chilling November day. Over her 'stay' there, her health and appearance had slowly degraded (not that any of the nurses there particularly cared – even they kept their distance from the crazy woman with the dead sister). Her usually perfectly kept blonde hair now was a tangled mess and her eyes had a sunken-in appearance due to her strange eating habits.
Every day, she was fed a hot meal, yet she always ended up throwing hers in the trashcan. It was her own personal rebellion, for she was not crazy. Perhaps she sometimes forgot her husband and sister were dead, and maybe sometimes her dreams were so incredibly vivid that she woke up coated in sweat.
Phantasmagoria, they called it.
Eleanor had absolutely no idea what that meant, but she definitely knew one thing: she was not crazy. She was just broken.
On that November day – the sixteenth- the day began like any other. The hot breakfast was wheeled in; and, as always, she wrinkled her nose at it. It was some kind of dry rock-like biscuit with gravy and oatmeal that didn't look particularly appetizing.
Once the nurse left, she threw it out and began to pace the perimeter of her very own prison cell.
She absolutely had to see her children.
So, how could she do that? They wouldn't let her young little children into a loony bin. It simply didn't work that way. Which left only one option:
She would have to escape.
She had pondered her very own plan oh so well. She knew how to get past the security procedures and had it all laid out in front of her like a map.
Since she wasn't crazy, the nurses and doctors should not have a problem with that, right?
Eleanor Delilah Pierce was certainly not crazy, and everybody in the Hatfield Home for the Mentally Impaired and Disabled knew that too. They would let her through, right? To see her kids? And her husband?
Wait, Louis was dead, she reminded herself.
At least she would get to see Sasha though. She missed her sister. It felt like she hadn't seen her in years. She remembered the last time they talked. Her sister seemed scared.
Eleanor shook her head. Sasha Danielle Pierce was dead too as was her husband.
Yet, Eleanor felt solace in the fact that her two little girls were very much alive. Well, as far as she was concerned. She wondered who was taking care of them. Probably that slightly-odd nanny with the hook nose. Yes, probably that one. What was her name again? Phoebe? She couldn't remember.
Either way, Eleanor was going to see her kids. She didn't care if anybody got in the way. She would get to see Serena and Valerie again. One way or another.

The rain was mercilessly falling from the sky; the millions of storm clouds cleverly hid the moon and stars. Everything in Hatfield was painted grey, a terrifying omen of what was to come. Thunder and lightning roared overhead, sparks of light illuminating the tall Victorian house on the corner of Hemingway Street.
In the courtyard, everything was drenched in rain. Tall thin trees swung back and forth in the harsh weather; the rustling of their leaves mixing with the melody of rain hitting the pavement.
Two young girls were standing in the front, lips blue from the cold, as they ran to their old treehouse in the back.
Years back, their nanny, Phoebe, had built it for Serena's eighth birthday. Both girls were overjoyed at the lavish gift that they weren't used to, seeing as both of their parents were dead. They had laughed and played for hours in it; the rickety sound of feet hitting the boards a familiar sound of the two Van Houten sisters.
At that present moment, both girls were running at a rapt speed towards their old childhood safe haven. Valerie's old jacket was soaked with the water; Serena's long brown hair was fighting against the roaring winds. Even through the noisy weather, I could still hear their heavy breathing like everything was perfectly quiet.
Once they arrived to their old childhood safe spot, both of them wrapped an old ratted blanket over them and looked that each other, unwilling to break the silence. Finally, Serena spoke.
“We don't have that long,” she almost whispered, chest heaving. “And I need to get all of this out. So don't say anything until I finish, okay?” The words spilled out of her lips at a rapid rate as she kept checking behind her shoulder for any sign of movement from indoors.
Silently, Valerie nodded.
“I... I went to The Jade Snake,” Serena admitted.
Valerie looked taken aback, but didn't say anything.
“I saw the statue of Clarentine, okay? And it scared the wits out of me. I noticed something on his hand.. A 7.”
Valerie raised her eyebrows and was about to speak, but she remembered the rule so she just nodded like she understood.
“The lady at the Jade Snake, I forget her name, told me that our grandmother had heard Clarentine say that he would make seven souls suffer.”
Valerie fought the words that rose in her throat.
“I'm one of them. You're one of them. Aunt Sasha was one of them. Our dad was one of them. Grandma Victoria was one of them. Our mom is one of them.”

Momentarily forgetting the 'no-speak rule', Valerie blurted out, “Is?”
Hanging her head in shame of what she was about to say, Serena forced the words out of her mouth. “Our mom isn't dead, Valerie. She's just... not mentally stable.”

Silence surrounded the two sisters. Valerie stared down at her hands, trying to ignore the twisting sensation in her stomach. So many different emotions rushed through her. Relief, dread, sadness – but, most of all, anger. “Why didn't you tell me?” She finally shouted, startling Serena. The rain was pouring down more intensely now; the wind furiously whipping around them.
“I couldn't, okay! I couldn't put you in danger!” Serena shouted back, wiping raindrops from her forehead.
Valerie shook her head. “That's not important. But, why did I have to go through most of my life, believing she was dead!”
“Our mom was in the asylum, Valerie!” Serena snapped. “She is dangerous!”
“Was?” Valerie asked loudly. “Is there something else you aren't telling me?”
“She escaped thirteen years ago and nobody has heard of her since.”
Serena's words hung in the air around them, a sort of fog formed between the two sisters.
When Valerie was silent, Serena went on.
“This is the reason that Clarentine is hunting mainly you down. He managed to kill the older sister, but the younger one escaped.”
Valerie thought of the message in the book Austin got. She hoped that he wouldn't be dragged into this mess because of her. She tried to comfort herself, saying that he had no part in this. But her stomach still twisted with a dread that wouldn't go away.
“What are we going to do?” Valerie finally choked out. Everything had begun to sunk in. This... this freak of nature, Clarentine the Clown, was inside their house, turning over tables and waiting for them to go inside. Her legs began to tremor. They couldn't put this off forever.
“You stay in here; I'm going in,” Serena said determinedly. She didn't appear half as traumatized as she did when they were in the house.
Valerie almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “What? No! You can't just walk in there! He wants to-”

“- He wants you more,” Serena cut her off and straightened. “And, frankly, somebody has to take care of him.” She moved to stand up.
Valerie tugged on her arm.“He's not human, Serena! You can't kill him!” She shouted, moving to stand up as well. Lightning roared overhead.
“Watch me!” Serena yelled through the rain and wind. Not giving her sister time to respond, she descended the steps of the tree house and ran into the Victorian home, not looking in the least bit scared.
Valerie's mind raced. She couldn't let her sister do that! Clarentine was in the house! Fists clenched at her sides, she began to run down the steps as well.
A particularly loud clap of thunder erupted, causing more rain to fall. Valerie tugged her grey jacket closer to her body. At that moment, she was far more determined than scared. Somebody had to get Serena out of there. She finally arrived at the front door. In a rush, she was about to turn the knob. Yet something stopped her. Realizing she stepped on something, Valerie looked down at her feet.
A message was imprinted on the mat. A message that was not there when she was last standing on it. A message written in that same shade of red she had grown to hate.
Austin may or may not be dead.

Austin Kingston may or may not have been lying in the front yard of the house on the corner of Hemingway Street. He was sprawled under the old Weeping Willow tree out front, eyes closed, blood spilling out of his neck. His face was as white as a ghost. Under him were the words: I told you there would be consequences.
Valerie Van Houten's eyes filled with tears as she saw the broken body of Austin, the boy she had only recently met but had told all of her secrets too. She walked towards his mangled form, hanging her head as she glanced down at all of the blood and the ivory tones of his skin.
Swallowing hard and trying not to cry, Valerie spun around. She couldn't look at it, not right now. She had to go in and help Serena fend off Clarentine. Wiping her eyes of the moisture that had gathered there, she ran to the front door of the house and swung it open, not giving her any time to even think.
-.-
The house was eerily quiet. Serena Van Houten checked behind her shoulder nervously, eyes scanning the perimeter of the living room for any 'visitors.' There wasn't any at the moment. Careful not to make any noise, Serena slowly ascended the stairs, one foot at a time, listening closely for any movement.
Truth be told, she was terrified. She put up a brave front for Valerie's sake; but just the thought of Clarentine inside the house made her want to scream and cry and run all at the same time. 
She finally made it to the top of her stairs without finding anything out of place. Sucking in her breath, Serena slowly craned her neck around the darkness that surrounded her. Somebody had turned off the lights. Her breathing was heavy in her ears as she reluctantly started to tip-toe along the top story of the house on the corner of Hemingway Street.
Serena blindly walked around the loft on the top level for a few minutes when she heard the first sound. The creaking of a door shook her out of her temporary daze. Without thinking better of it, she jumped. The sound of her toes leaving the ground and coming back shook the upper level of the house. In the eerie quiet, it sounded as loud as thunder.
Tremors rose in her body as she realized what this meant. If he didn't already know, Clarentine knew now that Serena was inside. The sound of the door shutting closed sounded in her ears. The sound was loud and forceful, and a couple quick bangs were heard afterwards. 
Serena grabbed a kitchen knife.
She allowed herself now to admit that Clarentine was most definitely coming towards her.
And, just after she admitted it to herself, loud footsteps sounded towards her. Clown feet banging against the tile. A hint of a maniacal laugh.
Serena started to shake; she knew she couldn't back down. She had to fight. Tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to keep Valerie safe.
Forcing her eyes open, Serena glanced around the loft, looking for the figure. Straining hard, she managed a glimpse at bright red hair coming towards her.
And that was when the lights turned on.
-.-
It took everything in Valerie not to cry as she ran up the steps at an unearthly place. Where was Serena? Where was she? She had a gut feeling that Clarentine the Clown was upstairs, so she seher sights at the blinding light in front of her.
The artificial light was scintillating. She wondered why on earth every single light in the vicinity of the house was turned on. Was this some of Clarentine's sick joke?
All of the doors were open – swung open, revealing bright lights and upturned furniture. Valerie felt her blood rushing in her ears. Clarentine was definitely up here. Only one door remained closed; the door to the loft, the room where Serena and Valerie used to play billiards and watch the three channels they had on their television.
So many thoughts were rushing through Valerie's head. Where was Serena? Was she in the loft with Clarentine? She refused to believe that. If her sister was locked in the room with Clarentine the Clown – the same creation that had killed so many people – there was a huge chance that...
No, Valerie refused her mind to go in that direction.
Summoning up all of the courage she had, Valerie Van Houten forced the door open.
-.-
Plain, pitch black darkness greeted the youngest Van Houten sister as the knob turned and all she could see was black. The unknown caused her legs to shake. Something felt... terrifying about the room. An off sort of feeling coursed through her. Perhaps it was the faint metallic smell of blood that entered her nostrils, or the quiet that surrounded her.
“Serena?” she whispered, craning her neck to find the light switch. The darkness swallowed her as her hands fumbled around for the light switch.
That was when she heard the first noise.
Loud footsteps ran across the tile at a fast pace. They were not Serena's – they were too forceful, too furious, too terrifyingly close to the noise that had haunted her dreams. In that moment, Valerie knew who was in the room with her. She started to breathe faster. The mere size of the loft gave her time. Twitching hands reached for the switch.
Valerie turned on the lights.
The same blinding light that greeted the hallway shocked her. Her eyes closed from the contact, but she forced them open. Once she did, she regretted it.
For the first and hopefully the last time in her life, Valerie made face-to-face contact with Clarentine the Clown.
The picture in the history book Austin showed her had nothing on how he appeared, flesh and blood, right in front of her. His face was a sickly white, his eyes a beady black, and his red hair was wild. False lips curved up into a smile as he maniacally laughed at her.
When she couldn't bear to look at him any longer, she turned her head to the side. To the heap that was lying next to her. And, the picture in front of her was ten times more horrifying than Clarentine the Clown in person.
It was her sister.
Serena. Her face was the same white shade that Austin's was. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. Dead.

One Week Later
“Do you have anything to say?”
A nurse with olive skin and black hair looked towards the blonde girl, only fourteen, who stared straight ahead. Her eyes were open, but they were not seeing anything in the facility around her. Her long gold hair was still in that same braid she wore a week ago, yet flyaway hairs surrounded it – a tangled up mess.

The nurse sighed in frustration and tried to regain her patience. “Come on, Valerie, you haven't talked all day.” She wheeled the hot lunch into the artificially light room. “In fact, you haven't talked since interrogation.”

Valerie Van Houten didn't say a word. She didn't flinch, nor did her eyes leave that same point in space she was staring at. She looked like a statue herself, no reaction, glassy eyes and stiff posture.
The nurse, whose tag read Maria, gave up on getting any reaction from the young girl. She felt sorry for the poor little thing who was only a teenager, and had witnessed her sister and boyfriend's death. With one last final glance, Maria left Valerie alone.
Valerie had spent one whole week without speaking. She had spent all of her days, staring into space, with so many thoughts to think that she thought of nothing. She didn't want to live in this world anymore – a world where people died and people killed. She wanted an out.
Due to her lack of communication, the Hatfield Police Department thought it best for Valerie to be sent to the Hatfield Home for the Mentally Impaired and Disabled. They didn't give her any choice – they had tugged on her arm and drove her over to the asylum where she would be treated as if she was crazy.
Valerie, however, knew she wasn't crazy. She was just broken.
However, she felt no need to escape. Where would she escape to? The police hadn't found Clarentine; he had disappeared in a flash, leaving no evidence except for two dead bodies and a whole lot of destruction. So, Valerie gave up and kept staring at a point in the distance, a point far far away from where she was at right now.
Her hot meals were wheeled in at the same time every day. It was always the same meal. Some sort of grain, a rock hard biscuit, and orange juice for breakfast. Rice, vegetables and water for lunch.  Stroganof and steamed vegetables for dinner.
Valerie didn't ever eat anything of it.
Finally, she moved for the first time in a week.
Her eyes moved. They glanced over at the door, eagerly waiting for this all to end. It couldn't though. Even if she escaped, she couldn't escape the psychological mess she had become. She couldn't escape the fact that Austin and Serena were both dead and gone. She couldn't escape the fact that she had been face-to-face with the single most terrifying person/thing she had ever seen.
All of those images were permanently imprinted in her brain, never to leave. Leaving herself physically incapable of being happy ever again. Leaving herself being shipped off to the Hatfield Home for the Mentally Impaired and Disabled. Leaving herself traumatized.
Valerie's blue eyes moved to the lunch and her stomach twisted. She was not hungry, even though she hadn't eaten since Serena and Austin had died. Since she had gone... crazy.
Her eyes navigated towards the one window that was in the room -  a barred one, but a window all the same. It was a sunny day out, the sun hanging promisingly in the bright blue sky hanging overhead. The juxtaposition between the weather and how Valerie felt caused her to almost laugh.
Keyword: almost.
When she couldn't handle the blinding sky anymore, Valerie closed her eyes, unwilling to open them. For a second, she almost didn't think. She wished she couldn't.

She wished she could have some more of that medication they had given her earlier. But, she had a sinking feeling they wouldn't give her more. Valerie had liked the way that she seemed to have gone into another world when she swallowed the pills.
A small noise of frustration escaped her throat. Wasn't it possible for her to escape the haunting images that invaded her brain, day and night? Wasn't it possible for her to be allowed to breathe?
Perhaps she was a little crazy.
No, she wasn't! Valerie Van Houten wasn't crazy! They knew that.. right?
With all of the internal fighting inside of her, she became somebody else. She wasn't Valerie Van Houten anymore – a young, bright, happy fourteen year old girl with gold hair and blue eyes. She was Eleanor Delilah Pierce – a young, traumatized and broken girl with a dead sister and a visit at the mental home.
The realization crippled her.
She had become just like her mother, dead to the world and everybody around her. Clarentine had caused her to want to disappear and to die and to rely on little white pills for escape.
Serena was Sasha – the older sister who couldn't escape Clarentine the Clown. Valerie was Eleanor – the younger sister who survived, but not really.
Valerie Van Houten was just a ploy in a sick cycle – starting with a letter on the doorstep and a trip down memory lane. She wished the end would come, but it wouldn't as long as she lived.
Valerie shut her eyes. She couldn't think about that anymore.
I watched her sadly, stomach twisting with the eerie familiarity of her appearance and the way that she looked out into nowhere in particular.
-.-
Valerie? You got a letter,” Maria announced as she stepped into the pristine white room in which Valerie was seated, still staring off into space.
Inside, Valerie was screaming at the world: letter. The same eerie feeling threatened to choke her.
Smiling, completely unaware of Valerie's internal battle, Maria handed the letter to her. “I'm not sure who sent it to you, but I'm sure it will make your day better. You seem to be making progress.”
Maria left the room, leaving Valerie alone.
She bit her lip and reluctantly opened the letter, dying to know, but afraid to find out. Inside, were three words. Three words, in that same red tone, that caused her to spiral into pure undeniable insanity.
It isn't over.

I write this to you because I feel that you need to know that there are dangers out there. Dangers that start with a letter written in blood on a doorstep. I write this to you because I want you to learn through my daughters' experience to pass on chain letters.
Yes, sometimes they are cleverly crafted tales from a bored neighbor. Yes, sometimes you may not have Serena and Valerie's fate if you do not pass it on. But, how do you know what is true and what is false?
You simply don't.
The question is: are you willing to take the chance? Are you willing to ignore it, and possibly be visited by an unknown force? I hope not. 
When my older sister, Sasha, died, I never would have traced it back to the scary letter I had gotten two weeks prior or the nightmare I had the other day. I was simply young, but I understand it now.
I write this to you in my old bedroom on my house on the corner of Hemingway Street. Most of the hype since the murder has died down, leaving me in a small bit of privacy to recount all of the horrors my two daughters have witnessed. The room is sort of cold; perhaps I should turn on the heater. It is pretty dark too, but I prefer it that way.
The blinding light still reminds me of the sun shining the day that my older sister, Sasha, died. I have an aversion to the light since then. I have an aversion to happiness.
Yet I hope that you have happiness. You will if you pass this story on to everybody you know. If not, I may have to pay you a visit or two.
Don't worry, this is a lesson. A lesson to keep you safe. Who knows? Clarentine may still be out there somewhere – I have no idea – and, do you really want to be his next victim?
I surely hope the answer is no.
I also hope that you learn something from Serena and Valerie. They were truly acting foolish, considering it safe to ignore all of those letters.
And, why, you may ask, did I not step in?
I didn't step in because I needed my two girls to learn themselves the dangers of messing with Clarentine. I ignored the letter, and I paid for it. Serena and Valerie had to do the same.
It also counted for a good show too. I had a really good view.
The house is completely empty except for me. Serena is underground in the Hatfield Cemetery, her soul suffering, and setting a good example for when you ignore warnings. Little Miss Valerie is still in the Hatfield Home for the Mentally Impaired and Disabled; her mental health slowly deteriorating. I hear she even tried to strangle her nurse.
I hear impending footsteps coming towards me. I'm not entirely sure what they are; perhaps it is my mind playing tricks on me. Of course it has been doing that for as long as I can remember. Ever since Sasha's death.
However, there is something eerily familiar about those loud furious footsteps that have haunted my dreams ever since Sasha's passing. And there is something unbelievably real about how they sound.
Should I turn around? Call the police? I find myself frozen in place. The footsteps are only growing louder and louder, and I hear a door swing open.
I turn around. I see a shadow, that same familiar figure that was at my sister's birthday party. The same one that played hide and seek with me. The same one that killed my sister.
A glimpse of red hair appears in my field of vision. I can only see the red hair. I refuse to move. Perhaps Clarentine the Clown will not see me if I remain still? Just like I did at the birthday party?
I continue writing this to you because I want you to know what happens when you are a fool like me. A fool who ignores warnings and doesn't pass on chain letters.
Yes, it is him.
He is coming closer.
I can see his face now. The ivory skin, the dead eyes and the crazy wide smile that spreads all across his face. His smile seems even wider now. He is glad he caught me.
A wild, evil laugh escapes his lips. “I found you!” he exclaims with a sick happiness embedded into his words. I continue writing because I want you to know.
Clarentine comes toward me. He is behind me now, I can feel him. There is no breath – he is simply not human. A freak of nature originating from black magic and from the bloodcurdling statue in The Jade Snake.
I feel his cold inhuman fingers wrap around my neck and I