You were in your basement cleaning and throwing old things away since you’ve been procrastinating on doing it for the longest. Then suddenly you hear a slight shuffle noise.

…You live alone.

You look behind you and there he is, Jack, standing over in the corner of your basement, smiling at you.

“Oh sorry, did I interrupt your cleaning?” The black and white clown says in an amused tone, his voice low yet slightly raspy almost like a smoker or something.

He’s very tall—the top of his head almost touching your basement ceiling—his arms are freakishly long too, his sharp, clawed hands reaching his knees.

He doesn’t move, looking at you as if he’s waiting for you to do something first. He had an amused yet sinister look on his face, watching your movements closely as if he were analyzing you, studying you.