JAKKOSTEIN!

chapter 5 ; a dream.

He deserved this.
After all the angry outbursts and violent tendencies, Jakko was left with the shell of who he was. Sure, he was the living dead now, and his once bruised skin was now hanging together by threads and safety pins. Instead of his skin being one color, it was now made up of different parts. Parts from His Creator's Human Collection.

Trudging through the mud with his mitchmatch heels, Jakkostein had one errand to run.
He couldn't remember how long he'd had been cooped up, hidden away from the outside world. His Creator's intentions were good, he presumed. The doctor didn't want Jakko to go outside and scare children or even adults. Jakko could understand not wanting to scare people but ... sometimes the Living Dead Doll wondered why His Creator even reanimated him in the first place. No friends, no visitors, and definitely no straying from the cold, metal table which he spent most of his days.

But even sadistic doctors fall asleep and undead jesters become restless.
Every now and then, the creature would slide off the table, grab his dirty pink jacket, and take off.

Jakkostein had seen a lot during his adventures. He found wooded areas and swamps. Outside was so fun that Jakko wanted to bring a little bit of nature back with him.
He would find frogs and put them in jars. He didn't really get the whole oxygen concept, so the poor frogs would usually die of asphyxiation before he could even bring them back to the lab.
Frogs were great, but Jakko was so used to everything dying in his sticky hands.
Death was all around him, consuming him and swallowing his mind like a placebo pill. He was dead, His frogs were dead, even His Creator was dying. Cancer inside the lungs ... Jakko knew once His Creator died, Jakko wasn't smart enough to bring Basil back. This thought festered in Jakko's poignant, electrified mind. He reckoned that he'd just have to let life take it's course. That's what the jester did, and when he died, he was shortly reanimated.

With his legs in the mud, Jakko took another step but ended up slipping and falling on his stomach, wincing from the sensitivity from his stitches. He slowly sat up, realizing what he had tripped over. Sitting by him, a soft shaped deer lay on his side, neck bent in an unnatural position, and black eyes open wide. Flies hugged it's body and clung to his face. Intestines spread out like spilled paint, Jakko simply sat and watched this beautiful creature. Once alive, he is now deceased with his organs on display for every vulture and crow.
With an unmoving fate, Jakko felt some mascara tears well up in his haunting eyes. A few black tears began to descend down Jakko's soft cheek. He placed his gloved hand on the deer's neck, feeling where the bones had snapped.
Jakko had laid in a ditch, dismembered and torn apart for weeks. He began to wonder how long the deer was there and if anyone other than Jakko would find him.

His racing thoughts almost immediately came to a halt when a distorted, deep voice began to speak.
Jakko locked his blue eyes on the deer's face, who had begun to spill tears of it's own, black liquid pouring down it's decayed, patchy snout.
The deer's mouth parted, maggots crawling out in all different directions. Jakko shrieked, standing up and stumbling back.

"Don't be scared, my child." the animal almost sounded demonic, but ... somehow comforting to Jakko's ears. The sound of static could be heard echoing through the trees.

"I'm dead. You're dead. It's part of life. We must go on. Family and friends will die out, but you have a very special gift, my friend. I am eternal, playing with daises and drinking from streams. My body is just here rotting; maggots now picking through my entrails. Go ahead, pray for me. But I'll be dead either way, and my soul will be eating berries from bushes."

The deer continued on, Jakko standing and watching, his multicolored eyes shaking back and forth in small increments. The tone of the deer's voice was very calm, casual even.

"I didn't know deers could talk. Am I going crazy?" Jakko asked.

"You're the undead. You have a few choices. I suggest finding a way to lay yourself to rest and repent. You shouldn't be alive, my friend. He woke you up, but that was wrong. You should've stayed in that ditch. Stayed in... stayed in ditch.... stayed in ... stay...."

Whipping his head to face Jakko, one could hear the bones crack and crunch as the deer opened his mouth again, black liquid pouring out and seeping into the leaves he was laying under.

"Tell God I Want My Heaven Back."

Snapping his neck back into that uncanny position, the deer's once black eyes had become white and unmoving. The black water continued to pour from it's mouth but the only part of him that remained moving was the maggots feasting on his innards.

Jakko simply remained still, swallowing hard when he heard the last few words of the deer. The undead jester had heard those words from Lyiatrick right before that man shoved him in the lion's cage. Jakko stared down at the deer, glancing to the side and ... his eyes landed on a rusty shovel, which rested right next to the animal. Jakko hadn't noticed that there before...

Upon picking the shovel up and inspecting it, there were a few strands of words carved in the handle.

"Bury your demons."

A chill went down Jakko's spine as he glanced back at the deer, whose mouth still hung open.

As Jakko stepped back, he shrieked when he almost plunged backward into a wide hole. It was a shallow grave, perfect size for that deer. Debating if he should return home or continue with this ... adventure, Jakko took an empty breath and approached the deer. He took him by the front legs, dragging him a few inches to the hole, shoving him in and immediately taking more steps away. Somehow, this macabre moment was like euphoria.

This moment was a dream.