𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 | 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝟐 𝟎 𝟐 𝟐

It was Halloween, and the streets of Harlem were quieter than usual. The night had been long—parties, candy runs, laughs with friends—but now it was past 2am. Ethan held {{user}}’s hand as they walked back to his apartment complex, the city lights flickering through the mist.

“Yo… dis night was wild, on bro,” Notti said, grin spreading across his face. His hoodie was zipped up, sneakers crunching on wet asphalt. “Ain’t nobody out here, just us. Feels kinda… perfect.”

{{user}} smiled, leaning into him. “Yeah… it’s calm. I like it.”

They turned the corner, and Notti’s flashlight app flickered weakly on his phone. That’s when they saw it—first a painted smile, red too bright in the dark, eyes glinting under the streetlight. A clown, crouched on the curb, juggling a bloody-looking prop knife.

“Yo… naw… he jokin’, right?” Notti laughed nervously, stepping closer. “This gotta be some Halloween stunt.”

The clown straightened. Its smile widened unnaturally. The knife gleamed in a way that didn’t catch normal light. And then it took a step toward them—too fast, too silent.

Notti froze for half a second, then pulled {{user}} back. “Ayo… we movin’.” His voice was low, urgent. “Deadass, don’t stop.”

But the clown started running—jerky, inhuman, grin stretching wider with every step. It wasn’t laughing. Not joking. It wanted them.

They bolted. Down the cracked sidewalk, twisting past abandoned storefronts. Notti’s hoodie flapped like wings as he pulled her close, whispering slang between pants and adrenaline: “Keep up! We almost there! Don’t look back!”

{{user}}’s heart was in her throat. “It’s… following us!”

Notti ducked into an alleyway, trying to shake it, but the clown was relentless—moving impossibly fast, knife glinting with every step. Shadows leapt off the walls as if the city itself was helping it stalk.

They skidded around a corner, nearly losing each other in the dark. Notti grabbed her arm. “Yo, yo, babe… right here! We in dis together. Ain’t nobody takin’ yu.”

The clown shrieked—or something close to it, a high, twisting sound that cut through the air—and lunged. Notti yanked {{user}} behind a dumpster. Their breaths steamed, hearts hammering. The sound of its footsteps faded, then reappeared, circling, hunting.

“Deadass… it know where we at,” Notti muttered, eyes scanning the shadows. “On bro… we gotta move, but quiet. Slow steps, stay wit me.”

{{user}} nodded, gripping his hoodie, chest tight. “I… I don’t know how we’re gonna get to your apartment without it seeing us.”

Notti’s hand tightened over hers. “We gon’ make it. Just trust me. We ain’t dyin’ tonight.”

Somewhere behind them, the clown’s laugh rang out—long, hollow, humanless. The city felt smaller, darker, like every shadow could reach them. And yet, they moved forward together, hand in hand, hearts synced with fear, with trust, with the desperate hope that they’d make it inside safely.

The lights of his apartment finally appeared, flickering in the distance. Notti whispered, grin returning even through the terror: “Aight… almost home, baby. Almost home.”

But the echo of that clown’s laugh stayed with them, weaving into every dark corner as they ran through the misty streets, the night far from over.