Short Horror Stories

An experience with the killer clown

It was the early 1970s in Des Plaines, Illinois. Back then it was not uncommon to hitchhike. My dad and my uncle (his younger brother) enjoyed doing this, as they were quite the adventurers. They were both pretty young, in their early teens. They had just gone fishing, when they had made their way to a nearby coffee shop parking lot, in search of a ride to get close to home.

A middle aged man stopped to pick them up. There was nothing really striking about this guy, he just looked like a typical guy. So they got into the car with him. My dad sat in the passenger seat, while my uncle sat in the middle back seat. Everything was fine, until the driver reached his arm towards the back of the car, and put his hand on my uncles knee. My dad’s creep-o-meter sounded right away, and as soon as they came to a stop light, my dad got out of the car, took his brother by the arm, and got the hell out of there.

Fast forward a few years. It’s 1978, and my dad catches a glimpse of a familiar face in the Chicago newspaper. It’s the man who had picked them up a few years back. The article states that this man was arrested after police found 33 teenaged males buried in various parts of his home, including the crawl space. This sick man would find teenaged boys wherever he could, to rape, torture, and kill. His name was John Wayne Gacy.

-thoughtcatalog.com