The Night the Jack O'Lantern Went Out, Page 2
Alexander S. Brown
sister said. "If you go look out the window, you’ll see its nothing!"
There was silence like she was debating the suggestion.
"Yeah, go look," one of the younger brothers chimed.
She ignored them until one of the girls called her a chicken.
"Am not," Mary protested.
Someone made clucking noises. Another sibling joined the teasing and another and another. Several voices began in sing songy fashion, "Mary is a chicken! Mary is a chicken!"
The chant was like music to Robert's ears.
"Am not!"
"If you’re not chicken, go look out the window," teased the older sister that had spoken a moment ago.
"Fine," Mary blurted, determined to prove she was brave.
This is too easy, Robert considered.
Footsteps crossed the floor followed by a pause. He looked up to the window. Mary’s hands pressed against the glass, cupping around her eyes to block out all possible light. Inching her face closer to the window, she strained and focused outward.
Just when she was ready to turn away, Robert stood, holding up the jack o’ lantern so she was faced with its wicked grin. She screamed and ran toward her siblings, then hid behind the couch. At first, her family looked confused. Then two of the younger kids, one dressed as the Lone Ranger and the other dressed as a witch, saw him. They screamed, causing the older kids to jump. Without wasting any more time, Robert ran, laughing the entire way to his bike.
Before anyone could exit the home, he peddled away. Finally looking over his shoulder, he saw he had cleared a great distance from Mary's home. He slowed, feeling he was too far away for identification.
The trick had worked better than he’d imagined. Robert laughed until crying, remembering Mary’s face and the way she screamed. He tried to mimic her scream and although he couldn’t do it identically, the sound was close enough to encourage his laughter.
Ahead was a bend in the road. Following that was a steep hill that would lead to Timmy's house. This would be another residence he could rile up. Timmy was the class bully, one who would steal lunch money, trip others, pull pranks, and was the cause for most playground battles.
Although Robert was on Timmy's bully list, the two were considered competitors who fed off of one another. One would pull a prank and the other would attempt to outdo the prankster. Neither he nor Timmy ever partook in a fistfight. They were mature enough to swallow their pride and admit to one another, “That was a good one.”
Robert doubted Timmy would get as panicked as Mary did. Yet, the prank would still be worth seeing Timmy's fat ass waddle away, yelling for his mommy. After this prank, Robert would regain his spot on the throne for lead prankster. Come the following school day, he would boast about how he terrorized Mary and Timmy. In return, Mary would slap him and Timmy would punch his shoulder and say, “Good one.”
Robert came to the curve leading downhill and slowed. Yet, when descending, he discovered his speed should have decreased more before making the decline. Halfway downhill, panic flooded. His toes curled in his chucks and sweat began building between his face and mask. Even with his palms squeezing the handle brakes, there wasn't much luck of decreasing to a favorable speed.
His arms wobbled, causing his steering to become disoriented. Before regaining balance, the bicycle overpowered his intentions. While knowing he was going to crash, there was nothing he could do to prevent this accident.
Shifting his weight to the right at the hill’s base, Robert fell into a muddy patch where during even the calmest of rain, water would gather and sit for days, collecting bugs and trash. Even during the summer, he doubted if the spot ever dried. With a heavy thud he landed in the cesspool that smelled more of sewage instead of soil.
When he wrecked, he fell onto his side with the bike on top of him. Once the bike was pushed off, he sat in the mud. Although anyone else would jump to their feet, he sat in the cold filth sulking. A tantrum surfaced. He grabbed the plastic Devil mask and cursed, "Damnit!" He ripped the disguise from his face, breaking the elastic string that held it in place.
Robert threw his Devil mask aside and looked to his scattered bag of candy. He cursed further. If his parents heard this slew of obscenities, a bar of soap would enter his mouth. The tantrum ended once he noticed the jack o’ lantern was smashed to smithereens. Its orange meaty inner shell was speckled with red wax from the extinguished candle and mud from the foul soil.
When Robert stood, he found the majority of the mud was protected by the inferno printed poncho. Yet his pants weren’t as lucky as the water and mud seeped through the fabric, making him feel both gritty and cold. He could tell he was going to suffer a chafing from the wet pants rubbing between his legs.
Well, tonight's over, he lamented.
He turned to retrieve his bike and heard something rustle in the woods beside him. Looking over his shoulder, he expected to see some type of creature that he and his father would hunt, but saw nothing. For seconds, he waited and watched for the culprit to show itself. When nothing appeared, he assumed the sound was caused by the wind or his imagination.
Robert reached to his muddied bike and lifted it from the slop. He walked back to the paved road with intentions of climbing the hill. Once reaching the top, he would ride home. The journey would take him no more than fifteen minutes, just enough time for his inner thighs to get chafed.
As he stepped onto the road, a twig snapped behind him. He turned and saw a jack o’ lantern in the distance, held at what could be seven to eight feet from the ground. The jolting image caused him to grip his bicycle handles. He was expecting to see a coon, a deer, or at worst a wild hog, but not this.
In the shadows, the jack o’ lantern’s mincing, crooked grin, triangular nose, and jagged pyramid eyes glared. Although the face wasn’t as grim as the one Robert had created, the scene was frightening. Maybe this was a prank – maybe it was Timmy. Even with this rationalization, something felt unnatural and mysterious. Robert couldn’t help but think perhaps this wasn’t Timmy at all, but something paranormal. Still, he asked, “Timmy, is that you?”
The figure didn’t speak. Robert’s brain screamed, Of course it’s not Timmy! Timmy is shorter than you! This person is the height of a basketball player!
The towering figure stepped forward. Without wasting another second, instinct caused Robert to run. He attempted climbing the hill while pushing the bicycle. When he wasn't gaining the expected velocity, he looked down and saw the bicycle’s front tire was flat. Maybe he ran over a nail while going downhill.
Hoping to see the stranger had been a figment of his imagination, Robert looked over his shoulder. To his horror, the ghoul was real and it had progressed to the spot of Robert’s wreckage.
The specter stood there, watching him. Beneath the moonlight, the haunt gained a greater visibility. He was dressed in colonial attire suitable for a poor man. His skin was gray with the hues of purple, yellow, and icy blue. The face this villain displayed was sunken and slick. Most horrifying was how his skin loosely hung to its skeleton. Held in his oversized, bony hands was the jack o’ lantern. Even though this gourd was held at chest level, it appeared to be six feet from the ground. Stricken with horror, Robert understood. This was Jack.
Robert slung his bicycle down and fled uphill with a greater speed than most children. When reaching the hilltop, he turned and saw he was just out of Jack’s reach. This legendary figure had tucked the jack o’ lantern under his left arm. His right arm was outstretched, intending to seize Robert by his poncho. Jack moaned, exposing rotted teeth and a discolored tongue. His eyes were wide, exposing nearly the entire bulging eyeball.
Robert began screaming as he ran down the street. Jack maintained a speed not expected for a dead man. No matter how great Robert cried, no one stepped onto their porch or lawn to investigate. The neighborhood figured the commotion was probably another trick from a candy-neglected kid.
Although instinct suggested he knock on a door for help, Robert hadn't gained enough distance between himself and Jack to gain that ability. Until he did, he would continue running without looking back.
After clearing a few blocks, Robert’s legs began aching, and a stabbing pain pierced his side. Not long after, his lungs grew sore from the cold, dry air. Tears from fear and pain flew back, trailing to his ears as he fled.
Before making the end of this street, Robert’s speed slowed. His breathing grew wheezy like an asthmatic. Before getting back up to speed, a cold hand gripped his right arm. He squealed in pain as Jack’s long fingernails dug into the fat of his bicep.
Robert continued trying to run but Jack's grip refused escape. The boy turned and looked into the monster’s milk white eyes. Now that he met Jack, Robert no longer felt like they were kindred spirits.
If he could take back what he wished, he would but that would be useless. Robert had been in the wrong place at the wrong time without a lit jack o’ lantern.
“Let me go!” Robert shouted, “HELP, SOMEBODY HELP!”
“No one can save you,” Jack gurgled from rotting vocal chords. “I have waited years to bring the Devil a soul and now I’ve got one.”
Jack threw his jack o’ lantern down, where it shattered at their feet. There was no need to carry the gourd any longer. Before Robert could struggle free, Jack gripped the boy with his second hand. Robert jerked and yanked for freedom.
There was silence like she was debating the suggestion.
"Yeah, go look," one of the younger brothers chimed.
She ignored them until one of the girls called her a chicken.
"Am not," Mary protested.
Someone made clucking noises. Another sibling joined the teasing and another and another. Several voices began in sing songy fashion, "Mary is a chicken! Mary is a chicken!"
The chant was like music to Robert's ears.
"Am not!"
"If you’re not chicken, go look out the window," teased the older sister that had spoken a moment ago.
"Fine," Mary blurted, determined to prove she was brave.
This is too easy, Robert considered.
Footsteps crossed the floor followed by a pause. He looked up to the window. Mary’s hands pressed against the glass, cupping around her eyes to block out all possible light. Inching her face closer to the window, she strained and focused outward.
Just when she was ready to turn away, Robert stood, holding up the jack o’ lantern so she was faced with its wicked grin. She screamed and ran toward her siblings, then hid behind the couch. At first, her family looked confused. Then two of the younger kids, one dressed as the Lone Ranger and the other dressed as a witch, saw him. They screamed, causing the older kids to jump. Without wasting any more time, Robert ran, laughing the entire way to his bike.
Before anyone could exit the home, he peddled away. Finally looking over his shoulder, he saw he had cleared a great distance from Mary's home. He slowed, feeling he was too far away for identification.
The trick had worked better than he’d imagined. Robert laughed until crying, remembering Mary’s face and the way she screamed. He tried to mimic her scream and although he couldn’t do it identically, the sound was close enough to encourage his laughter.
Ahead was a bend in the road. Following that was a steep hill that would lead to Timmy's house. This would be another residence he could rile up. Timmy was the class bully, one who would steal lunch money, trip others, pull pranks, and was the cause for most playground battles.
Although Robert was on Timmy's bully list, the two were considered competitors who fed off of one another. One would pull a prank and the other would attempt to outdo the prankster. Neither he nor Timmy ever partook in a fistfight. They were mature enough to swallow their pride and admit to one another, “That was a good one.”
Robert doubted Timmy would get as panicked as Mary did. Yet, the prank would still be worth seeing Timmy's fat ass waddle away, yelling for his mommy. After this prank, Robert would regain his spot on the throne for lead prankster. Come the following school day, he would boast about how he terrorized Mary and Timmy. In return, Mary would slap him and Timmy would punch his shoulder and say, “Good one.”
Robert came to the curve leading downhill and slowed. Yet, when descending, he discovered his speed should have decreased more before making the decline. Halfway downhill, panic flooded. His toes curled in his chucks and sweat began building between his face and mask. Even with his palms squeezing the handle brakes, there wasn't much luck of decreasing to a favorable speed.
His arms wobbled, causing his steering to become disoriented. Before regaining balance, the bicycle overpowered his intentions. While knowing he was going to crash, there was nothing he could do to prevent this accident.
Shifting his weight to the right at the hill’s base, Robert fell into a muddy patch where during even the calmest of rain, water would gather and sit for days, collecting bugs and trash. Even during the summer, he doubted if the spot ever dried. With a heavy thud he landed in the cesspool that smelled more of sewage instead of soil.
When he wrecked, he fell onto his side with the bike on top of him. Once the bike was pushed off, he sat in the mud. Although anyone else would jump to their feet, he sat in the cold filth sulking. A tantrum surfaced. He grabbed the plastic Devil mask and cursed, "Damnit!" He ripped the disguise from his face, breaking the elastic string that held it in place.
Robert threw his Devil mask aside and looked to his scattered bag of candy. He cursed further. If his parents heard this slew of obscenities, a bar of soap would enter his mouth. The tantrum ended once he noticed the jack o’ lantern was smashed to smithereens. Its orange meaty inner shell was speckled with red wax from the extinguished candle and mud from the foul soil.
When Robert stood, he found the majority of the mud was protected by the inferno printed poncho. Yet his pants weren’t as lucky as the water and mud seeped through the fabric, making him feel both gritty and cold. He could tell he was going to suffer a chafing from the wet pants rubbing between his legs.
Well, tonight's over, he lamented.
He turned to retrieve his bike and heard something rustle in the woods beside him. Looking over his shoulder, he expected to see some type of creature that he and his father would hunt, but saw nothing. For seconds, he waited and watched for the culprit to show itself. When nothing appeared, he assumed the sound was caused by the wind or his imagination.
Robert reached to his muddied bike and lifted it from the slop. He walked back to the paved road with intentions of climbing the hill. Once reaching the top, he would ride home. The journey would take him no more than fifteen minutes, just enough time for his inner thighs to get chafed.
As he stepped onto the road, a twig snapped behind him. He turned and saw a jack o’ lantern in the distance, held at what could be seven to eight feet from the ground. The jolting image caused him to grip his bicycle handles. He was expecting to see a coon, a deer, or at worst a wild hog, but not this.
In the shadows, the jack o’ lantern’s mincing, crooked grin, triangular nose, and jagged pyramid eyes glared. Although the face wasn’t as grim as the one Robert had created, the scene was frightening. Maybe this was a prank – maybe it was Timmy. Even with this rationalization, something felt unnatural and mysterious. Robert couldn’t help but think perhaps this wasn’t Timmy at all, but something paranormal. Still, he asked, “Timmy, is that you?”
The figure didn’t speak. Robert’s brain screamed, Of course it’s not Timmy! Timmy is shorter than you! This person is the height of a basketball player!
The towering figure stepped forward. Without wasting another second, instinct caused Robert to run. He attempted climbing the hill while pushing the bicycle. When he wasn't gaining the expected velocity, he looked down and saw the bicycle’s front tire was flat. Maybe he ran over a nail while going downhill.
Hoping to see the stranger had been a figment of his imagination, Robert looked over his shoulder. To his horror, the ghoul was real and it had progressed to the spot of Robert’s wreckage.
The specter stood there, watching him. Beneath the moonlight, the haunt gained a greater visibility. He was dressed in colonial attire suitable for a poor man. His skin was gray with the hues of purple, yellow, and icy blue. The face this villain displayed was sunken and slick. Most horrifying was how his skin loosely hung to its skeleton. Held in his oversized, bony hands was the jack o’ lantern. Even though this gourd was held at chest level, it appeared to be six feet from the ground. Stricken with horror, Robert understood. This was Jack.
Robert slung his bicycle down and fled uphill with a greater speed than most children. When reaching the hilltop, he turned and saw he was just out of Jack’s reach. This legendary figure had tucked the jack o’ lantern under his left arm. His right arm was outstretched, intending to seize Robert by his poncho. Jack moaned, exposing rotted teeth and a discolored tongue. His eyes were wide, exposing nearly the entire bulging eyeball.
Robert began screaming as he ran down the street. Jack maintained a speed not expected for a dead man. No matter how great Robert cried, no one stepped onto their porch or lawn to investigate. The neighborhood figured the commotion was probably another trick from a candy-neglected kid.
Although instinct suggested he knock on a door for help, Robert hadn't gained enough distance between himself and Jack to gain that ability. Until he did, he would continue running without looking back.
After clearing a few blocks, Robert’s legs began aching, and a stabbing pain pierced his side. Not long after, his lungs grew sore from the cold, dry air. Tears from fear and pain flew back, trailing to his ears as he fled.
Before making the end of this street, Robert’s speed slowed. His breathing grew wheezy like an asthmatic. Before getting back up to speed, a cold hand gripped his right arm. He squealed in pain as Jack’s long fingernails dug into the fat of his bicep.
Robert continued trying to run but Jack's grip refused escape. The boy turned and looked into the monster’s milk white eyes. Now that he met Jack, Robert no longer felt like they were kindred spirits.
If he could take back what he wished, he would but that would be useless. Robert had been in the wrong place at the wrong time without a lit jack o’ lantern.
“Let me go!” Robert shouted, “HELP, SOMEBODY HELP!”
“No one can save you,” Jack gurgled from rotting vocal chords. “I have waited years to bring the Devil a soul and now I’ve got one.”
Jack threw his jack o’ lantern down, where it shattered at their feet. There was no need to carry the gourd any longer. Before Robert could struggle free, Jack gripped the boy with his second hand. Robert jerked and yanked for freedom.
