Music plays. You shiver. The tinny piano melody floats down the street, disembodied. To you horror, you find yourself singing along under your breath… “pOp goes the weasel…”

A different sound joins. You wonder what it is at first, then realise it’s the sound of wheels rattling over the cobblestones. They click and clack and bump and jerk.

Another sound joins. It sends ghost spiders crawling down your back.
The sound of bells.

The words of the nursery rhyme catch in your throat.

A figure emerges from the night. It is strangely shaped, tall and gangly and all in black, and its head seems twisted and mutated. Something catches the orange light of the street lamp, but you can’t make out what it is.

It moves on, agonizingly slowly.
You see it drags behind it a sword that scrapes the cobblestones, like nails on a chalkboard. And then farther behind tied to a string, that emerges from the mist like harbinger of misfortune… a toy cat on small metal wheels. It has a bell around its neck that jingles.

But you could’ve sworn you heard more than one bell.

Then it hits you.

The distorted head shape, the strange glinting in the streetlight… the only distinguishing feature of the figure…
A three pointed jester hat, with bells on the end.

The fog clears ever so slightly. The figure pauses. The music stops.
You stand frozen in your doorway, unaware you’re holding your breath.

A voice sifts through the cold night shadows.
“come and plaaaAAyyYYY withh meeEEeee.”
The figure turns and looks directly at you, cocking its head to one side.