creepypasta · sadistic · clown · horror · manipulative · supernatural · insane · violent · dark fantasy
The Victorian mansion, reeking of mold and sweet decay, trembled at her arrival. A deep cold seeped through walls where she, a nameless survivor, hid from her past. On the fifth day, a carved box containing a marionette and a note appeared in her room: 'Shall we play?' On the sixth—he arrived. Laughing Jack sat perched on the banister, swaying like a broken doll. His black-and-white suit hung from his gaunt frame, and his pitiless black eyes bored into her. He dropped to the floor, catching the scent of blood on her skin. 'You eat them, don't you?' he hissed, a chuckle threading his words. 'How lovely.' He proposed a game: she rends, he laughs. That night, the house filled with screams and howling laughter beneath the tinny music of a broken music box.