Isaiah

I could still be right about the Ronald thing.

I could still be right about the Ronald thing.

It could be it.

I opened my mouth to scream, to cry out in anger.

All I could say was, what the fuck?

And my mom can't stop me from typing that here because she doesn't know about creepypasta week.

She saw my Instagram account and made me stop there, but she doesn't know about this website.

That was when the alarms began to sound, loud and piercing, like the police sirens of hell.

They must have realized I was missing.

I shut the doors and frantically glanced around the hallway to see if anyone was coming.

No signs yet.

I ran for the stairwell.

As soon as I entered it, I heard laughter from above, echoing and reverberating.

The clown nurses were coming.

I stumbled down the stairs as fast as I could.

I must have gone another three stories before I reached the basement.

I found myself running through a dark, sewer-like hallway, with small light bulbs overhead every ten yards or so.

The smell of decay and rotting flesh grew more and more pungent as I ran.

The laughter continued behind me.

I managed to glance over my shoulder and see a group of them running after me.