Dreamscapes I: The Clown Invasion

Dreamscapes 1
The Clown Invasion

    It was a normal weekend afternoon, except for two factors: one, I was going shopping at K-Mart, and two, I couldn't find either my cellphone or my debit card. These things, however, didn't seem to really bother me much, which, thinking back, was extremely odd.
    The road to K-Mart was different; not as I remembered. It was landscaped, there were three tiers of parking lots, and the whole area was surrounded by trees and vegetation. I parked my car in the lowest of the three parking lots, and proceeded up the path to the K-Mart. I had a hard time finding the entrance; it was an oddly-shaped store. Eventually, I found it. The entrance was in the side of a hill, much like a hobbit hole would be.
    From here, my memory blurs, probably caused by the traumatic events that were to come. I remember buying a video game at the K-Mart, with a gift card I had found in my pocket, and I remember walking down to my car. But that's where my memory breaks. I couldn't find my car, so I wandered down, past the path. I kept walking down the hill, completely in view of the K-Mart above.
    I found myself standing on a sidewalk, looking out on a stereotypical suburban environment. On one side of the street was a group of children playing. On the side of the street I was on was an old, 60s-era VW van, that looked as if it hadn't been touched since the 60s. The van was beat up, and looked very much out of place on this street.
    I heard a sound. It sounded like firecrackers going off, but with a ricochet. My years of video gaming helped me to immediately identify the sound; it was a sound of gunfire. My years of video gaming, however, didn't tell me what to do next, so I craned my neck to look around, trying to see around the fences that bordered me on both sides. Suddenly, I heard the sound of tires screeching, and more gunshots. When I turned around, I saw a truck, with a man in the back. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the man's face was painted as a clown, and that the man carried, in his hand, a machine gun. He was firing rounds from the machine gun into the otherwise peaceful suburban landscape.
    I didn't know what to do. Even though I was alone, I knew that around me, people were dying, that this man had killed hundreds; maybe thousands. Time seemed to slow down, and I got a chance to run behind the VW van.I dove behind it, and I was safe, for a moment. From behind me, I saw a man get gunned down. I heard more tire screeches, and saw that there wasn't just one of these clown trucks; there were at least a dozen, in pairs, running down the street.
    The first two trucks passed on without a problem. Then came the next few. The sounds of death were all around me, but I couldn't see anything other than the suburban landscape. Even the children across the street hadn't stopped playing. The only signs of the destruction were the dead man behind me, and the screams from all around.  All of the trucks passed, except for the last pair. It was this pair that turned the corner right next to me.
    I locked eyes with the clown. Time slowed down to a stutter. I could see him begin to pull the trigger, and I began to make my peace with God. That's when I saw him. A child, no older than 6, had appeared from the house behind me. He was riding a tricycle, and he was carrying a gun. As I looked at the child, he jumped off of the tricycle, and layed down on the ground. He took aim at the clown, and the clown's head just disappeared. No blood. It just disappeared. The child took aim at the second clown, and fired again. This time, the clown just dropped to the ground. Once again, no blood, no gore. And then it was over.
    The child put his gun on the ground, and got back on the tricycle. He wheeled it back into his garage. The sounds of death and destruction ended. The trucks were still there; one with a headless clown, and the other with a clown. They both seemed peaceful, as if they were sleeping. Even the headless clown had no blood. Indeed, he looked as if he shouldn't have a head; as if that was the natural state for a clown like him.
    I ran. I ran to my car. I started my car. I drove as quickly as I could home, because I knew my parents must be worried sick. It was a five minute drive home, rather than the regular half-hour. I turned on the news. It was explaining that two of the clowns had been killed, and the rest had escaped. The total death toll was in the thousands.
    I reached my house. During this time, it had turned dark. My parents were in bed, and they were both reading. "Don't you guys know what happened?" I asked. "No," my mom replied. My dad kept reading his book. I took a look at both of them, rolled my eyes, and went into my bedroom. For some reason, it made no impact on me, what I had just seemed. It seemed natural; not something one would be commonly worried about; almost the natural progression of things. And that's how it ended.