H is for Horror

     “What you gonna do about it?” the man on the other side of the counter asked, waving his gun haphazardly in my direction.

     I smiled. I was hoping he’d ask that; it wasn’t very often my wife let me play.

     His eyes stayed fixed on me as I walked around the counter and stood in front of him. He was still confident though, overly so. And I guess I didn’t blame him. I hardly looked threatening, that was the point.

     “That’s far enough,” he said, looking down at me, smiling like he had all the cards and I had none.

     “Funny you should mention that,” I said, watching as his eyes showed the first sign of fear, of knowledge. That was always my favorite part, when they began to realize what they were in for.

     “I was just leaving,” he muttered, already taking a step backward toward the door.

     “No,” I said. “You went just far enough.”  

    I could see in his pupils what I’d become for him, what his worst fear was. Another clown. Who would’ve thought so many people would be afraid of clowns?

     Oh well, I thought. It's his nightmare, I'm just creating it.