Marley is finally alone in the beautiful new house and for the first five minutes, it’s bliss.

Her husband Chris, a firefighter, has just left for a five-day shift. The boxes are unpacked, the wine is poured, and the newlyweds’ first house is all hers. Then she crosses in front of the front window and sees someone standing across the street.

A clown. White gloves. A red striped suit, neon green socks, and oversized yellow shoes. Staring straight at her and holding a single pink balloon. Her favourite colour.

He never speaks. He never rushes. He just gets closer: ten feet every few hours. The police can’t arrest a man for standing on a sidewalk. The locks are double-bolted, the yard is fenced, and her 180-pound St. Bernard, Rufus, never leaves her side but every time Marley looks, the clown is nearer, and his smile is showing more teeth.

By the time Chris comes home from his shift, he’ll find the house dark and quiet.

A short, creeping horror story about the thing that doesn’t chase you it waits, and it closes the distance while you’re not looking.