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And suddenly, the page with the image of the jester began to tremble ever so slightly, as if something beneath it was stirring. A moment later, a small figure, no taller than thirty centimeters, slowly rose out of the book. It was the very same jester from the picture. His red cap with little bells jingled softly, and his grin seemed even wider now.
— So, — he drawled lazily but with an oddly serious tone, stretching as though he had just woken up, — who woke me up?
Emma froze, unable to utter a single word. She instinctively turned to Mark, but he seemed oblivious, staring intently at his own hands and muttering something about “the fifth dimension.”
The jester turned to Emma, giving her a playful bow, the bells on his cap letting out a cheerful chime. Emma’s eyes were locked onto his wide, unnerving smile.
— Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, — he said, studying her with a mischievous curiosity, — you woke me up, so go ahead—state your wish.
— A wish? Is this a joke? — Emma blinked, her voice trembling as her mind struggled to make sense of what was happening. — Who… what are you?
The jester tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing as his grin stretched even further.
— Who am I? Hm… That’s not important, girl, — he said with a lazy mockery, spinning on his heel as if reveling in his newfound freedom. — What matters is that you woke me up. And now… your wish is my command.
Emma shook her head, as if trying to convince herself this was all just some bizarre dream. She turned to Mark.
— Mark! Do you see this?! He just climbed out of the book, right here on the table! — Her voice was shaky, but she desperately tried to stay calm.
Mark slowly turned his head toward her, his eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused. He blinked lazily before following her pointing finger toward the table. Finally, his gaze landed on the jester standing there, and his face lit up with a smirk that quickly turned into loud laughter.
— Haha! Oh, Emma, you… you’ve really gone all out, huh? — he said, his words slurring slightly from laughter. — Like… what’s it called… — he waved his hand vaguely, trying to recall, — oh yeah, a hologram! Just like Princess Leia in Star Wars!
Emma stood frozen, unable to believe what she was hearing.
— A hologram?! This… this is a real jester! He climbed out of the book, I’m telling you!
But Mark had already shifted his attention. His thoughtful and serious gaze was now fixed on a towel hanging on the opposite wall.
— The towel… it’s… hey, Emma, do you see how it’s moving? There’s gotta be a portal there. — He raised a finger, pointing at it as though it were the most extraordinary discovery.
Emma groaned and rubbed her face with her hands.
— A portal?! Are you kidding me?! There’s a JESTER standing on the table who just climbed out of a book and is TALKING TO US!
Mark waved dismissively, as though swatting away a fly, and leaned back in his chair again.
— A jester… — Mark repeated slowly, shaking his head with a faint smirk. — Emma, turn off your cartoons. You’re too little for stuff like that…
— I’M NOT LITTLE! AND I DON’T WATCH CARTOONS! — she exploded, her face flushing with rage. She turned to the jester, who stood on the table with his arms crossed, watching the scene with unabashed interest.
— I like you, — he remarked, nodding approvingly. — Feisty. So? Your wish. Speak. I’m waiting. And don’t take too long—I’m starting to get bored.
Emma froze, emotions bubbling inside her like a volcano.
— Fine! — she burst out, barely keeping her anger in check. — I want to be an adult! So that no one ever… — she shot a furious glance at Mark, who was still staring at the towel, — calls me a kid again!
Mark lazily turned his head toward Emma, his eyes half-closed as a slow grin spread across his face. He leaned against the table, staring at her before his gaze drifted somewhere over her shoulder.
— Emma, being an adult sucks. Adults are boring, annoying… you have to work. Pay taxes… ew, — he drawled, squinting. — I, on the other hand, want to be… like… not an adult. Being a kid is awesome. None of that… crap.
The jester glanced between the two of them, his grin stretching unnaturally wide, almost sinister. A spark of something malevolent flickered in his eyes, as though he’d already planned everything down to the last detail.
— Done, — he said curtly, snapping his fingers. His voice was sharp and chilling, like a blade scraping against glass. For a brief moment, the room was bathed in a blinding flash of light—so brief it could have been imagined, though Emma was certain it had happened.
Emma froze, trying to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Mark, swaying slightly, raised his hand as if to ask something but then thought better of it.
The jester vanished into thin air, dissolving like smoke, leaving behind an oppressive silence.
The kitchen looked the same, but something in the air felt different—a heavy, suffocating vibration that sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. She glanced at Mark, who slowly shifted his gaze from the towel back to her. Narrowing his eyes, he muttered:
— Something… feels wrong. Or is it just me?