M.A. Kleen

Amidst haunting carnival melodies in an abandoned hospital, an FBI agent, mortician, and old priest unite to confront a vengeful killer clown bound by a century-old tragedy.

Please enjoy this horror short, part of a series experimenting with artificial intelligence. I fed the location, characters, scenario, and mood into ChatGPT and asked it to craft a story, then used Stable Diffusion XL to create illustrations. How did it turn out? Well, you be the judge.

In the dimly lit corridors of St. Bernardine’s Hospital, the pendulum-like echoes of dripping water resounded alongside the faint, haunting strains of carnival music. The hospital, long since abandoned, had become the theater for unspeakable acts – a hunting ground for a malevolent being with a painted face and blood-spattered clothing.

Agent Victor Lowell, a man in his mid-forties with greying temples and piercing blue eyes, roamed the corridor, the beam from his flashlight slicing through the shadows. The FBI had never been called for a case like this before: a killer clown leaving a trail of grotesque performances. Every victim was meticulously positioned to emulate a puppet or marionette, strings meticulously splayed from their limbs. The hunt had led Victor to St. Bernardine’s – the source of the accursed music that seemed to draw the deranged jester.

Suddenly, the beam caught a hunched figure further down the corridor. “Reverend Abner?” Victor called, recognizing the familiar stoop of the old priest. Abner, a frail man of seventy with thinning white hair and a persistent air of melancholy, had served at St. Bernardine’s chapel for years. His deep connection to the hospital was palpable; he still believed the souls of patients past roamed its abandoned halls.

Reverend Abner’s pale face turned to Victor, eyes filled with sadness. “This place… is cursed, Agent Lowell. There are spirits here. Angry, restless spirits.”

They continued together, navigating the hospital’s labyrinth. A door creaked open to reveal a mortuary. There, surrounded by autopsy tables and instruments, stood Sylvia Ward, the mortician. Her raven-black hair was pulled back, revealing the pallor of her skin and the sharpness of her cheekbones. She had been the one to discover the first victim, positioned eerily like a marionette on her own table. Ever since, she’d been assisting Victor, her familiarity with the dead making her a valuable ally.

“Victor,” Sylvia whispered, her dark eyes reflecting both terror and determination. “There’s something I must show you.” She revealed an aged photograph, depicting the very clown they were after. But the date stamped was from 1921.

Victor’s jaw tightened. “This… this can’t be right. Is this a cruel joke?”

Reverend Abner chimed in, voice trembling. “The man in the photograph was Elias Blythe. A performer, he was. When the hospital opened a century ago, he often performed for the sick children. But a fire broke out during one of his acts. Many believed Elias started it. He perished in that fire, alongside innocent children. His spirit, they say, seeks revenge.”

The haunting carnival music grew louder, pulling them into the bowels of the hospital. The trio cautiously approached an old performance stage. At its center, a puppet theater, from which the melody emanated.

From behind the curtain, a voice echoed, mocking and playful, “Welcome to the grand performance!”

The curtain swept back, revealing the horrifying sight of Elias Blythe, the killer clown, amidst his ghastly marionettes. His makeup cracked, revealing scorched skin beneath, eyes wild with madness, lips stretched in a malevolent grin.

“What do you want?” Victor demanded, holding his gun up.

“To finish the performance,” Elias hissed. “To make you all my puppets.”

Sylvia, bravely stepping forward, spoke solemnly. “Your anger is misplaced, Elias. The children, the souls, they’re not at peace because of you. Let them go.”

Elias laughed, high and shrill. “It’s too late for that. I am bound to them and they to me.”

Reverend Abner, clutching a rosary, began to chant, his voice filled with power and resolve. “By the power of the holy spirit, I command you to leave this realm. Seek forgiveness and free these souls.”

As the old priest’s voice resounded, the entire hospital began to shake. Spectral apparitions of children emerged, surrounding Elias, their innocent faces contorted in anger and pain.

Victor, seizing the moment, fired at the puppeteer’s strings that controlled his macabre marionettes, freeing the spirits. The children reached for Elias, pulling him into the void with them, his screams echoing long after he vanished.

The haunting carnival music came to an abrupt stop. The hospital, once filled with malevolence, was silent.

Sylvia, her face wet with tears, whispered, “It’s over.”

Reverend Abner, looking older and wearier, nodded. “The souls are finally at peace.”

Victor, holstering his gun, gazed at the stage. “Evil comes in many forms, but there’s always a way to confront it.”

Together, the unlikely trio left St. Bernardine’s Hospital, the shadows of the past slowly receding behind them. In the vein of Poe and James, the story combined gothic elements with a chilling, atmospheric tale, weaving together three unlikely heroes who faced unspeakable evil, showing that even in the face of darkness, there’s always a glimmer of hope.