by Blaise Langlois
I had been in the tent for most of the afternoon, sticky from the August heat. So far, most of the applicants had been rather underwhelming.
Just then, an awkward looking figure lifted the tent flap and strode over, his oversized black shoes squeaking as he moved. I indicated toward the empty seat in front of me.
His face paint was traditional, and a frown replaced the typical goofy grin—something that just wouldn’t do.
“Could you smile for me, please?” I sighed.
The clown’s red lips peeled back to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.
“You’re hired,” I told him.
Emerging author, Blaise Langlois, will never turn down the chance to tell a creepy story. You are sure to find her writing in between teaching and raising four beautiful children, or feverishly scratching out ideas (which to the chagrin of her supportive husband, usually occurs just after midnight).