Creepypasta

Laughing Jack

It's Christmas Eve in snowy 1800's London, England, and in a small house at the edge of town, there lived a lonely, 7-year-old boy named Isaac. Isaac was a sad child with not a friend to his name. While most children were spending time with their families and eagerly looking forward to opening the presents that were placed with care beneath a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, little Isaac spent this most holy of nights alone, in his cold, dusty attic room. Isaac's parents were very poor, his mother was a strict crow of a woman who stayed at home and schooled Isaac. His father worked long hours down at the London harbour to support his family, although a large portion of his earnings went toward purchasing and consuming copious amounts of alcohol at the end of his shift. Sometimes, he would come home drunk, after being thrown out of every bar in London, and shout at his beloved wife, Isaac's mother.

Occasionally, it would escalate to violence and he would beat her savagely, then when he was done, he'd force himself upon her in a drunken, sexual rage. As it so happens, this particular night was one of those occasions. Isaac just remained quiet, quivering beneath his soiled bed sheets until the screams and loud bangs subsided. Once poor frightened Isaac was finally able to fall asleep, he'd dream of what it would be like to have a friend to play with, so maybe he could laugh and be happy like the other children of London. Luckily for little Isaac, this Christmas Eve marked a big change, when his abysmal loneliness caught the attention of a guardian angel, who then crafted a very special gift for the sad little London boy.

As the sun rose on that Christmas morning, Isaac opened his eyes to find a strange wooden box sitting at the foot of his bed. With eyes widened in awe, he stared at the colorful, hand crafted box, wondering who had left it. He was not used to receiving gifts, especially toys. What little toys Isaac did have were ones he'd found abandoned in the street or washed up in the gutters. Isaac scooted up to the foot of his bed in front of the mysterious box and picked it up with both hands. The box was beautifully painted in colorful styles, with carvings of happy clown faces on the side. There was a tag on the box that simply read "For Isaac." On the top of the box was an engraved text.

Isaac squinted his eyes as he sounded out the words, "L-laugh-ing-J-Jack-in-a-b-box..." he paused, "...Laughing Jack-in-a-box?" Isaac had heard of a Jack-in-a-box, but never a Laughing Jack-in-a-box. His mind spun with curiosity as he grasped the box's metal crank. Isaac tuned the crank and the song Pop Goes The Weasel chimed in rhythm with the crank's gyrations. As the song came to its climax, Isaac sang along with the final verse, "Pop goes the weasel," but nothing happened. Isaac let out a sigh, "It's broken..." He placed the box back down on the edge of the bed, and shuffled across his small dusty room to his dresser where he changed out of his soiled sleepwear and into his usual tattered clothes.

Suddenly, Isaac heard a loud rattling noise coming from the bed behind him. He spun around to witness the wooden box violently shaking. Then, without warning, the top of the box swung open and a parade of colorful smoke and confetti bellowed out. Isaac rubbed his eyes in disbelief of what he was seeing. As the smoke cleared, there stood a tall, thin, multicolored clown man, with bright red hair, a swirly, rainbow colored cone nose, and feathery shoulders that sat atop his raggedy and colorful clown outfit.

The Technicolor clown spread his arms and excitedly announced, "COME ONE, COME ALL! WHETHER BIG OR SMALL! TO SEE THE BEST CLOWN OF THEM ALL!! The one, the only, LAUGHING JACK-IN-A-BOX!!!"

Isaac's eyes lit up, "W-Who are you?" he asked.

The colorful carnie stepped down off the bed and with a happy grin said, "I'm glad you asked! I am Laughing Jack, your new friend FOR LIFE! I'm magical, I never get tired of playing, I'm a wiz at the accordion, and I adapt and develop with your own changing personality... In other words, whatever you like, I like!"