Jester

The Jester smiled, laughter filled with malice, and the stench of rotting flesh on his breath. His sharp teeth tore into the girls' abdomen as he stared at me. Blood rose in her throat and began spilling out of her mouth as she struggled to wriggle free of his iron grip. That laugh, that damned laugh, like nails clanging in an old tin container. He smeared her blood on his face and giggled, it was giddy, almost child-like. I hot stench of her coppery blood mixed with the mildewed basement was almost too much, I dry heaved, doubling over to gag. This started a new roll of laughter from the Jester, his organ covered face dripping with blood. I could see that the remains of her body were posed like a puppet. She was sat up against the wall, her glazed over eyes staring blankly, her clammy dead hands were placed in a peculiar fashion, one on her mouth as if depicting surprise, and the other was clutching what was left of her entrails.

I averted my eyes, not wanting to gag again. "Oy, Bloke!" The Jester tempted me, challenged me, to turn around. I shook my head, not wanting to see the torn-up girl one more minute. A cold hand suddenly appeared on my shoulder. I turned around quickly, a curse shooting out of my mouth. The Jester was holding the girls' hand and dying of laughter at my scare. His once black and white suit was tarnished with soot, blood, and dirt. "Didn't anyone tell you not to play with your food?" I questioned, staring him down. "But, Darling, it's so fun!" Another roll of laughter was lit inside of him. I started up the stairs with him at my heels. I sighed, "Come on, I have to clean-up. Dinner is coming to visit soon. Go clean yourself up. And this time, let me help." He grinned at me, "Of course, Darling."