Five children snuck out of their homes one night into the dark woods. To a place untraveled and avoided—an abandoned graveyard. While playing, one child found an object, taking it, they placed it into their pocket. As they returned home from their mischief and got snuggled in their beds, the first child noticed something sitting outside their window. Pulling the covers over their head in hopes the entity would leave, a whisper asked, “where is my blade?”
The child refused to answer, for they had no idea what the being was asking. The second child saw something in their closet; a whisper drifted out. “Where is my blade?” The child quickly squirmed under the blankets and pulled the pillow over their head, too terrified to peak out.
The apparition appeared to each child, getting closer and closer to them, demanding where their knife was. When finally the entity appeared to the fifth child, who was up playing with their newfound switchblade. The being stood near the child’s bed, “where is my blade?” When the child looked up, they saw a clown with a painted face and great big shoes. Before the child could scream, the entity took their knife and disappeared.
Only in the morning, when the parents checked on their child, the mother’s horrified screams were enough to convey the message. Never take things that don’t belong to you, for you never know who they might belong to.
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