Kàtár

"I do not fear the Darkness. I only fear what lies within."

It was creeping me out. Like, I knew I was supposed to be grateful for gifts and all, but this thing was just... weird. Its beady black eyes seemed to follow me everywhere. And when I could have sworn I had turned it a certain way, it always seemed to be facing me. I wanted to return it, but there wasn't a return address. And I was afraid of what would happen if I destroyed it.

It all started this morning. The mail had just been delivered, so I was going to get it. When I opened the door, there was of course my normal bills, letters, junk mail, and some other things. But there was also a small package. It was just a plain white box, the only words on it were on the top: To Roxas Strife. That's it. So, being the curious twenty year old that I am, I had opened it.

Never, ever, ever open a box when you don't know who it's from. I learned that the hard way. The package held one item: a plastic doll. But not just any doll. A clown. At first, I thought my best friend, Axel Char, was playing a Halloween prank on me, but when I called him, he denied everything. Even went so far as to swear on his lighters he didn't do it. And if there's one thing Axel doesn't do, it's risk his lighters' safety.

I had put it on the mantle, planning to get rid of it later because, frankly, I didn't like clowns. At all. So I had left it there and continued my day. It didn't go very normally, though. I constantly found myself passing that room, and I always had the feeling that it was staring at me. But every time I looked, it seemed fine.

I had grabbed the box, trying to figure out some clue as to who sent it. I turned it around, inside-out, upside-down. Finally, success. Well, sort of. On the bottom of the box was a symbol I had never seen before. It looked like a silver, upside-down heart, with three thorns connected to it at the top. It didn't help me but increase my unease. I was getting rid of it. Now.

Except when I went to get it, it was gone. It wasn't on the mantle. I searched the house, all in vain. No sign of the clown. Like it had completely vanished from thin air; it never existed, it was all just in my head.

You know that feeling you get when you just know something bad is going to happen? That feeling of jumpiness, so much so that you're afraid of anything and everything? The darkness and shadows themselves seem to have eyes, and you're scared of your own reflection. Worried some half-zombie half-human creature will show instead. You don't want to look, but the other half of you, the brave part of you, insists. You take a peek, thinking of the most gruesome, bloodied disaster in the place of you... and it's only your reflection. But that feeling won't go away. The music of death continues to play, the script of your demise is written, and you're acting the scene now.

There was a clown doll on the loose in my house. I was out of there. As I tried to go outside the front door, though, I saw it. Standing right in front of the door, with an evil grin on its face, was the clown doll. I froze, not daring to breathe. A cold wind blew down my neck, like someone was breathing on me. I shivered as goosebumps formed on my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck raising.

It started as a whisper, then grew louder and louder and louder. "Play... Play... Play..." it kept saying. I knew it was the clown. What else could it be? It seemed like one voice, but at the same time many, in high-pitched, low-pitched, echoing demands. "Play... Play... Play..." The house was freezing all of a sudden, and all I could hear was the doll. Screaming in my ear in whispers, shrieks, painful noises that were both too high and too low to hear.

"Play with me... Play with me... Play with me..." I clutched my head, wishing for it to stop but knowing it wouldn't. I fell to my knees, praying for mercy. I dared not open my eyes, fearing how close it would be to me now. The room seemed to spin around me, images in my mind blurring into colors, colors blurring into a picture, a person, a thing: the clown.

"Play with me, Roxas... Play with me, Roxas... Play with me, Ro-" It all stopped suddenly, and the front door flew open. I chanced a glance up, and saw Xion Fair, my other best friend. She looked like she had rushed out the door, her black hair slightly unkempt and flying around her. Her blue eyes landed on me, and she rushed to my side.

"Roxas? Are you okay? Axel said something was wrong..." She knelt down next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder, the other feeling my forehead. "Man, you're burning up. You should lie down." I nodded weakly, barely registering anything. Xion helped me to my feet and led me to the sofa. "I'll get you some water. It's a good thing I came over..."

"Wait..." I rasped, stopping her by grabbing her arm. She turned her head back to me, tilting it a little. "...The clown. Where is it?"

Xion gave a confused look. "Clown? What clown? I thought you were afrai- I mean, didn't like them."

"I... do." I narrowed my eyes, brows furrowing. "But... didn't you see it?"

"I haven't seen a clown, Roxas. Maybe you just thought you saw one. You've got a pretty bad fever, after all." She pulled her arm out of my grip and headed towards the kitchen.

I placed a hand on my forehead, barely registering the intense heat coming from it. She hadn't seen it? But it was right in front of her. What happened? Was it all a dream? Some freak nightmare forced by a fever? Or all real? Either way, I couldn't get those green eyes out of my head, or that voice...

I turned onto my side, planning to get some rest. Just as my eyes were closing completely, I saw it. In that little slice of vision I had right before darkness, I had seen it. The clown. My eyes shot open, staring in disbelief at the small figurine in front of me. It looked angrier than last time, if that were possible. The grin seemed to be almost... sadistic. My mouth dried, preventing me from yelling for Xion. We stared at each other for what seemed like years. Then I heard it. That barely audible whisper that you can't hear unless you're trying to, but once you hear it, it's louder than a thousand ringing gongs. It was only a sentence, five little words. But it was enough.

"You should have played, Roxas..."