"Momma, I found a toy."
"Yes, Ozzy?"
"A toy."
"What's that?"
The six-year-old boy came to stand at the corner of the dining room table, intently watching his mother slather icing onto the top of a cupcake. "Can I have some?" He asked eagerly.
"May I have some. When I'm done, yes. You can lick the bowl afterwards." Heather replied to her son, setting down the cupcake and picking up a bare one to repeat the process.
"You made chocolate." Ozzy pointed out.
"Yes, I did. Because I know it's your favorite, and you're my favorite boy." She chimed, giving the child a wink. Ozzy beamed for a moment, then regained his pucker of concern.
"In the yard." He repeated.
"What about the yard?" Heather asked, just finishing up the other cupcake.
"I found a toy. A wind-up box."
Ozzy's statements finally seemed to penetrate through that innate mom-screen that filtered out unimportant chatter. Heather grabbed a dish rag on her left and wiped her hands.
"Did you touch it?" She quickly asked, making her way around the table and her son and into the kitchen. She peered out the windowpane built into the door, getting a complete overview of the front yard. To her surprise, a small blotch of dark brown stood out from the rich emerald color of the grass. Heather knitted her brow and glanced down at Ozzy. She then turned back to the yard, slowly opening the door. Making her way off of the front porch and into the yard, she strode over to the small wooden box.
The wood seemed aged to Hell and back. Nearly every inch of it was tarnished with cracks and splinters. Heather was reluctant to even think about touching it. A lifelong disgust for maggots and termites were to thank for that. The engraved text on the lid of the box was too worn for her to make out what it said, but it's not like that mattered. It was pretty obvious what it was.
"It looks old." Ozzy's sudden input nearly made Heather leap out of her skin. She darted her gaze back to her son, hand clapped over her chest. "Sorry, Momma." The kid added quickly, seeing his sudden approach startled his mother.
"No no, it's alright," Heather quickly assured Ozzy. She simply let out a sharp breath, turning back to the toy, "Did Colby ever have this the last time he visited?"
Deep down, Heather knew that was a stupid question. The last time Ozzy's friend came over was about two weeks ago. Yet again, Ozzy was herson, and she knew that he could be oblivious enough not to notice for quite some time. He got it from her. That aside, Ozzy simply shook his head.
"Colby once told me wind-up boxes scared him." He pointed out. Heather pulled a small frown, and stared back at the toy.
Could it belong to one of the neighbor's kids? She thought, glancing up at the fence that naturally separated their yard from the next door's yard. It didn't take long for realization to smack her upside the head. She was already aware that the neighbors didn't have children. That being said, she still wanted an answer to why a beaten down, last century toy was in her front yard. Well, whatever the matter, if it was simply just left here, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take it in. Ozzy had been complaining about all of his toys becoming boring for a while now. What's the damage if he got some good old fashioned Jack-in-the-box?
"Well, if this doesn't belong to anyone," Heather started, propping her hands on her hips, "Would you like to have it?" She asked. Ozzy's immediate reaction was a sudden flash in his eyes and a big grin.
"Mmhmm." The kid hummed happily in response, bouncing on his toes. Heather had an unconscious smile tug at the corners of her lips. She looked back down at the wind-up box and hesitantly picked it up, "I'm gonna have to clean it first, alright? You'll have to wait." She pointed out, reaching down and ruffling Ozzy's hair. The boy simply giggled and pranced back to the house. Heather grinned slightly, following behind her son.
She looked down at the toy in her hands, still squinting to see the words engraved on the lid of the box. "Laughing... Jack-in-the-box?" She sounded out. Laughing Jack? She's never heard of that kind of wind-up box. It's not like it really mattered all that much. There had been thousands of incarnations of the original.
It took a good while, but eventually Heather didn't spot any termites or maggots dwelling inside the wind-up box. She was a bit too relieved at that. In any case, she'd called Ozzy into the kitchen. The kid instantly became a little bundle of energy, snatched the toy from his mother and pranced back into his room. And without a thank you.
Heather simply shrugged it off.
The sun was finally beginning to touch the horizon, the sky tye-dyed with the oranges and pinks of the afternoon. Heather had already begun to finish up cooing dinner. As she removed a pot from the stove, turning it off as well, she hollered for Ozzy that diner was ready.
"One second, momma!" The boy called back. Heather pursed her lips, setting the pot down on a cloth on the table.
"Ozzy Mills, you've had plenty of time in your room today." She warned, voice stern. Not even five seconds and the kid finally cam bounding down the hallway and into the kitchen. He climbed up into his chair and awaited for his meal. Heather huffed quietly, grabbing a large spoon from a nearby drawer. "What were you doing in there that was so important?" She asked the kid, scooping up a good spoonful of macaroni and pouring it onto his plate. Ozzy looked up from the table.
"Playing with my new friend."
"Ah, you mean your new toy?"
"No. He's a friend."
Heather had to pause for a good minute to finally comprehend that her son had created an imaginary friend. Not just any imaginary friend, but one from his new toy. The woman drew in a long breath, and swallowed, quick to finish filling up Ozzy's plate.
Every kid went through this stage in life. It was important just to go with the flow.
"Aw, how sweet," She beckoned, taking her seat next to her son, "So, what's your friend's name?" She asked, voice laced with false interest.
"Jack. He's a clown." Ozzy answered. Heather pretty much saw this coming. She nodded once, turning to her plate.
"Interesting. So, what does 'Jack' like to do?" She asked again. Ozzy's lips puckered for a moment, a key sign that he was thinking.
"He likes to tell jokes and eat candy. He even makes toys come to life!" He whispered excitedly, leaning in closer to Heather. This must've been a very imaginative kid to think of 'bringing toys to life'. Even Heather had convinced herself that that's exactly what it was. Ozzy suddenly frowned.
"He also says he's sorry about you and daddy."
The woman paled, throat tightening to make breathing difficult. She stared at her son with a deathly look on her face, "W-Why is Jack sorry about me and daddy?" She drawled out. Ozzy awkwardly shifted in his seat a little; almost like he wasn't supposed to say what he'd just said. As if confirming that thought, the kid quickly shook his head.
"Never mind."
Heather's eyes narrowed at the kid, but she eventually brushed it off to think about later.
After an long, awkward dinner time, Ozzy brushed his teeth, changed into his sleepwear and got to bed. Heather, taking cautionary measures, took the wind-up box away so Ozzy wouldn't be playing with it all night. The woman scurried back into her own room, setting the wooden box on her nightstand. She came to stare at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was still pale from earlier.
"Does Ozzy actually know about the divorce? Is he making it seem like his imaginary friend knows and told him to cover himself?"Her mind was flooding rapidly with nearly unsolvable questions.
"Haha, you're on the right track, lady."
All the color flooded out from Heather's face, and her entire body went rock solid. She swallowed harshly, slowly forcing her head to turn towards the bathroom door. She held her breath. Whoever owned that voice, they were dangerously close; and she was nearly defenseless.
However, there wasn't any breathing, or rustling. She couldn't take any chances. She reached for one of the drawers of the sink, opened it quietly and grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Better than going out there with nothing. She forced her legs to start moving towards the door, a shaky hand working to unscrew the cap from the bottle in her hand. Baring her teeth, she kicked the bathroom door open wider and sprung out, ready to blind the intruder with the peroxide. But she immediately stilled herself.
Her room was empty. Just casually; almost mockingly, serene. She always closed her bedroom door when she entered, and her door was stillshut. Heather's brow furrowed and she simply put the cap back on the peroxide. It was better safe than sorry. She hurried over to the side of the bed and stuffed her hand under the mattress. She pulled out a handgun and switched off the safety. She quickly left her room and patrolled the house.
"Ozzy?" She called, speeding down the hallway to her son's room. She fumbled with the door handle for a moment before finally swinging it open. She lashed out her hand and flipped the light switch on, making Ozzy freeze suddenly.
The kid was out of bed, jumping around his Jack-in-the-box. Heather was hit with a wave of relief, but also irritation. She quickly hid the gun behind her back. "Ozzy, why do you have it?" She asked, voice stern. The kid frowned innocently.
"I didn't take it, I swear. Jack came into my room and wanted to say goodnight." He explained simply. Heather pulled a disappointed frown, stalking over to the toy and snatched it up. "I didn't take it." Ozzy said again.
"Ozzy, please," Heather held up her hand to silence the child, "Just go to bed." She sighed. Without another word, she turned and left the room.