A Story of Laughing Jack.
Authors Note:
I do not own creepy pasta; I am simply a huge fan of them. I do not own Laughing Jack, but he is one of my favorites, and I thank my friend, PrincessofBooks08, for recommending this site for me. This story may be disturbing for younger readers, and I do not advise you reading it if you are younger. This story is completely fiction. Also, if you are sensitive to animal death, do not read. (Oh, and to the people who read/watched the actual Laughing Jack story, I know the end is sorta like its end. I ran out of ideas, sorry!)
Have fun reading!
~-Moth-~
My daughter, Emma, was seven, her hair straight and bleach blonde, her eyes a baby blue. One day I heard her talking to someone so I looked through my study's window and out at her, because she was usually a shy and lonely child. I saw her in the backyard, laughing, but didn't see anyone else. What was she doing? I waved it off and opened the window, calling her inside for dinner. She said goodbye to no one, and opened the sliding glass door, sliding into the kitchen. I closed the window and locked it, going downstairs and sitting across from her at the table. Her father would not make it to dinner tonight, he left when I told him we were expecting. "So, Emma, who were you talking to out there?" I ask my daughter while putting some spaghetti onto her plate. She looks up at me with confusion at first, and then smiled.
"My new friend! His name is Jack." I frown and look at her. Emma NEVER lied. I quickly replace my frown with a smile.
"And how old is this… Jack." I'm a bit hesitant to say his name. It's familiar… but I don't know where from. Emma sizes me up and down.
"I think he's about your age." She says quietly, and then started to eat. I stopped putting spaghetti on my plate, almost dropping the spoon when the name 'Jack' becomes more familiar. A sweet smile starts drifting through the fog in my memories. I hear his soft laughter then a bark. I frown as I get snapped back into reality. I look down at the massive German shepherd staring at me. I smile sweetly and pet Honey softly. She barks softly and I stand up, walking into the back room and Honey follows me silently. I pour her a bowl of dog kibble and fill another bowl with water.
I turn and start walking to the kitchen when I hear something from upstairs. I see water dripping down the stairs then hear Emma talking to someone. I dart into the kitchen and see a plate with hard candies in front of her on the table. I know for sure I didn't put them there. I look at Emma and ask quietly, "Emma, where did those candies come from and who are you talking to?" Emma turns her focus to me, a big grin on her face.
"The candies are from Jack—" She gets cut off for some unknown reason, then continues, "I mean Laughing Jack, and that's who I'm talking to." I frown and look around the kitchen, seeing no one. Is Emma actually lying? No. My angel can't be lying. I pick up the hard candies and put them on the counter. I look at Emma intently. The she looks at me, stops talking to no one, and frowns, "Mama, why'd you move the candies?" I continue looking at her and frown.
"Emma, tell me who gave you the hard candies, because I know Laughing Jack didn't." Emma puts on her saddest face and my heart breaks a bit. She moves spaghetti around on her plate with her fork.
"Mama, I'm telling you that Laughing Jack did it." I'm becoming worried and angry now. I smile and send her to her room to clean it even though it is already spotless.
I start washing the dishes. I keep the hard candies on the counter and walk upstairs to Emma's room to tuck her in. When I look inside her room, I find her already tucked in. I frown and walk over to her window, locking it. I walk out of her room and close the door silently. Honey trots up the stairs then stops when she reaches me. She lowers her haunches and growls at something around the corner. Then I remember the water dripping down the stairs. I walk slowly around the corner and see a knocked over vase. I sigh and look at Honey, and then a thought comes to mind. Honey was in the backroom when this fell. She couldn't have done it. I look back down at Honey and she continues growling. I kneel over next to her and assure her everything is ok. I then stand up and start cleaning up the broken vase.
I see a piece of paper with something written on it in all of the mess. I finish cleaning up and pick up the piece of paper. I read it carefully, it says: Jill, You Know I'm Here. Stop Denying It. – Laughing Jack. :)
My hand shoots up to my mouth, covering it. That isn't Emma's handwriting, or mine. I look down at Honey and she runs towards Emma's room, barking like crazy. I knock on her door because it is locked for some reason. Emma answers immediately, opening her door. "Mama, I don't wanna play with Jack anymore." Her blue eyes are not haunting and empty. I hug her and pick her up.
"Why? What did he do to you?" I say quietly. She hugs my shoulders tight and starts sobbing, choking words out between each sob.
"He asked… me… to come with him… away from you…" I frown and nod, hugging her tight, not ever wanting to let go.
"It's ok now, Em. Let's go to bed in my room."
I carry her into my room and lay her on the bed, lying with her. She cocoons herself into my side and falls asleep, tears running down her face. "I'll never let you go…" I whisper silently to her. Honey drops onto the bed and falls asleep next to my feet.
I wake up a couple hours later and hear sinister laughing coming from the kitchen. I check beside me and Emma is still safe. I notice only ONE living thing missing from the room. Honey. I shoot out of bed, grab my pistol from my drawer and dart downstairs and into the kitchen silently. I see a pasty white figure with a black long-sleeved black shirt with black and white feathers on the shoulders, and a frilly, drooping collar around his neck, a white bandage wrapped around his stomach, and only the sleeves striped black and white. I notice bandages wrapped around it's palms and wrists. The last thing I notice from behind, is his long, spiked black hair pointed up, I suppose it's supposed to look like an afro, like a clown. I walk closer cautiously, my pistol loaded. I see sticky crimson blood and organs spilled out all over the floor. I look up and see her. Honey, tied to the ceiling fan above the dining table, her stomach cut open and her insides filled with hard candies instead of her organs and flesh. I gasp and feel like I'm about to get sick when he turns around, grinning. Grinning oh-so wickedly… so insane. I take him in from the front. Spiky teeth, tipped with blood, a cone shaped black and white striped nose, black patched suspenders, white eyes with black pupils, with black eye shadow and eyeliner around them, and a black mouth. I look at him, "Jack…?" He continues grinning and stands.
"Hello, Jill. I came to collect my daughter."
I shake my head, causing blonde hair to slide around my face, "You can't have her. You left me when I told you I was expecting. That we were expecting, Jack." This seems to upset him because he disappears and I faintly hear him running up the stairs. I run after him but he is much faster. I step into my room and see Emma, tied up to the window, her hands tied to the top corners, her ankles tied to the bottom ones. Her stomach is cut open and her eyes are gone, leaving empty holes. I notice no organs spilled out. Jack must have taken care of this one… He was going to take my baby, after all… Jack stands in front of her, facing me. I hear police sirens and point the pistol at Jack. I hear him laugh and disappear as soon as I pull the trigger.
The bullet drives straight into Emma's still beating heart. Me taking away any chance of her survival… me taking away her life. I collapse in front of her, in defeat, and start sobbing. I hear booted footsteps running up the stairs and then the tune of 'Pop Goes the Weasel' drowns everything out. The last thing I remember was me screaming about how there was a man there, who cut open my baby. Then I see him behind the police officers. His grin now more wicked and insane than ever. Everything blacks out after that. I don't remember it. I wake up a couple weeks after, in a padded cell, my body wrapped in a straight jacket so that I can't hurt myself. I see my ribs against it and hear 'Pop Goes the Weasel' outside my cell door, and think to myself. I'll talk to them about it in the morning… I smile with the same grin as Jack before everything went black all those weeks ago… them feeling like an eternity ago.
END