Laughing Jack: How To Put A Jack In The Box Back In The Box (Laughing JackxOC)

Chapter 18: Story Telling

The air hung heavy with the weight of Sarah's thoughts as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her reflection wavering like a distorted image in water. She couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped in her own mind, each thought of a prison cell closing in on her sanity. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the cold glass, but even that simple action felt like an insurmountable challenge. The woman staring back at her seemed like a stranger, her features twisted into a grotesque caricature of herself. "What's wrong with me?" she whispered, the sound barely audible over the pounding of her heart. But the silence that followed was deafening, swallowing her words whole.

In the depths of her mind, shadows danced, whispering sinister secrets that sent shivers down her spine. She tried to push them away, to bury them beneath layers of denial and false bravado, but they clawed at her consciousness, refusing to be ignored. As she stared into the void of her own reflection, Sarah felt something stirring deep within her, a primal instinct awakening from its slumber. It whispered to her, promising salvation in the form of madness, urging her to embrace the darkness that lurked just beyond the surface. But she fought against it, clinging to the fraying threads of her sanity with all her strength. She couldn't let go, couldn't surrender to the abyss that threatened to consume her whole. And yet, as the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was already too late. That no matter how hard she fought, she was destined to become nothing more than a puppet dancing to the tune of her own madness. Just as she reached the edge of oblivion, a voice echoed in the recesses of her mind, a faint whisper of reason cutting through the chaos-

Dylan let out another frustrated sigh, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he wrestled with the words on the screen. He couldn't understand how Mr. Vender found this story compelling; to Dylan, it felt like nothing more than a cheap horror trope stitched together with clichés. He wasn't connected to Sarah, the protagonist, at all. In fact, he found her actions and the whole premise downright absurd. Sarah, a character he couldn't quite grasp, was supposed to be the centerpiece of this twisted tale. She had just moved into a decrepit house in the countryside with her oblivious family. The idea that her parents would willingly move into a house with such a dark history felt contrived to Dylan. It was as if they were inviting trouble, oblivious to the horrors lurking within the walls.

The backstory of the house was even more ludicrous. Serial killers from the 1800s, making deals with the devil? It sounded like something out of a bad B-movie, not a story worth telling. And the notion that their spirits were cursed to haunt the property for eternity felt like a lazy attempt to add depth to the narrative. As Dylan read through the outline of the plot, his disbelief turned to disdain. The climax, where Sarah murders her own parents and becomes possessed by the demon, felt like a cheap shock tactic. It lacked nuance, substance, anything that would make it more than just another forgettable horror story. But try as he might, he couldn't find it, couldn't connect with Sarah or the horrors that plagued her. With a heavy heart, Dylan closed his laptop, the unfinished story staring back at him like a taunt. He wasn't sure if he would ever find the inspiration to finish it, or if it was even worth the effort. But one thing was certain: this was not the story he wanted to tell.

"Whatcha doin Little Mouse?~" Laughing Jack giggles slightly looking over Dylan's shoulder.

Dylan signs quietly. He thought they had finally left for the day and was going to leave him alone. Unfortunately, his wishes were not granted. He reopens his computer, opening a fresh document.

"Having Writer's Block." Dylan wrote in response to Laughing Jack. Since he couldn't talk to the clown out loud he could just use his computer instead.

"Oh? What are you writing about?" He was not really interested in the story but he was bored and wanted something to do. He watched Dylan Delete what he previously wrote and started to type out the story plot which sounded boring. "That sounds boring, you know that right?"

"I know, but I have to keep it 'school appropriate' to a level." Dylan typed out.

"Well if you were to write it your own way how would you?" Laughing Jack Asked, with curiosity on what the boy would write.

Dylan glances around before he opens a doc he had been writing on.

'-But reason offered little solace as the demon's presence grew stronger, its malevolent energy seeping into every corner of her being. Sarah's hands trembled as she grasped the edges of the bathroom sink, her knuckles turning white with the effort to resist the entity's sinister influence. But the demon's power was relentless, twisting her thoughts and desires until she could no longer distinguish reality from illusion. With a gut-wrenching scream, Sarah felt something snap inside her, a primal urge to escape the suffocating grasp of the demon at any cost. In a desperate bid for freedom, she raised her trembling hands to her face, fingers clawing at her eyelids with a ferocity born of desperation. Blood trickled down her cheeks as she tore at her own flesh, the pain a distant echo in the sea of torment that consumed her mind. But still, the demon's hold remained unbroken, its malicious laughter echoing in the recesses of her shattered psyche. With a final surge of strength, Sarah plunged her fingers into her eye sockets, the squelching sound of tearing flesh drowned out by her anguished cries. Tears mingled with blood as she gouged out her own eyes, each excruciating moment driving her further into the depths of madness. As the darkness closed in around her, Sarah's screams faded into an eerie silence, broken only by the whispered promises of the demon that now held sway over her shattered soul. And in that moment of unimaginable horror, she knew that she was lost forever, condemned to wander the shadows for all eternity as nothing more than a vessel for the demon's insatiable hunger.'

"Well, well, not too bad,~" he remarked with a playful lilt in his voice, a hint of surprise coloring his tone. "I didn't quite peg you for delving into this kind of material," he chuckled softly. "So, spill the beans, what's the grand finale? The classic happy ending?~" Laughing Jack's curiosity danced in his eyes as Dylan navigated to the next document.

"No, after she kills her parents," Dylan typed, his expression solemn as he continued, "she's sent to a mental institution, where the demon continues to torture her mentally and physically until she takes her own life. Besides I don't believe in sugarcoating endings in my stories. Happy endings are just a way to provide false comfort, masking the harsh realities of life. I prefer to shine a light on the darkness, to remind readers that not all tales conclude with a tidy resolution. Just like the complexities of the real world."

"Well, isn't that interesting," Laughing Jack cackled, his tone dripping with sinister amusement. "Then you won't be too upset when I gut you like a pig, hm~?"

Dylan's fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard in response. "That won't happen," he typed out, his expression unreadable as the bell for the end of school rang, signaling the dismissal of the class. With a calm demeanor, Dylan closed his laptop and rose from his seat, gathering his belongings. He slung his satchel over his shoulder before heading for the exit, his steps steady and unwavering.