A (late) Halloween story: The Tale of Jack-of-the-lantern (S)

Our tale takes place in Ireland, way back when history fades into legend. There was once a man known by many names, Stingy Jack, Jack the smith, Drunk Jack, Jack of the lantern, but here we'll just call him 'Jack'. No doubt from the names we know him by that it's no surprise he wasn’t exactly a Godly character. Indeed he was infamous throughout the Irish towns for being a deceitful, manipulative and downright boorish blaggard. Jack had no home to call his own and so passed through every town so long as they could put up with him. As things were he never stayed in one place for very long, so most of his life he spent roving over the wide Irish landscapes. Rumours and tales of his debauchery reached far and wide, rumours sure to eventually fall upon unkind ears.

Upon one of Jack's usual drunken wanderings whilst he was between towns he stumbled and lost his footing against uneven ground. Yet it was not merely the loose cobbles of the path he walked that threw him off balance but a stone cold corpse strewn out like a ragdoll underneath his feet. Jack, as was his nature, started rifling through the pockets of the corpse when it turned its gaze to meet him; Jack drew back as its mouth curled into a malicious grin.

The corpse rose to its feet and lost the hue of death, replacing it with the hue of infernal flesh. That, along with accompanying horns, left no doubts in Jack's mind to the identity of the figure; a being that needed no introductions to the lapsed-catholic Jack for here stood the devil. He had heard of Jack's evil deeds and silver tongue and was offended that a mortal such as he could rival the father of all lies. So he had come to put an end to his tomfoolery and claim Jack's blackened soul for himself.

Now Jack had begun to sober up. He realised this was his end unless he thought fast. Luckily thinking fast was Jack's specialty and so he requested that the devil let him drink one last ale before he claimed his spirit and his life. The road to Hell is long and winding, surely they could make do with at least one drink to help them along the way. Surprisingly the devil saw no reason to deny his request. Indeed he secretly held a deep respect for the man who had managed to garner such ill repute in such relatively short a lifespan. In twice a decade Jack had managed to become as loathed as it took the devil centuries to do. So in all he believed he owed it to the man to give him a drink for his efforts.

The closest tavern was not far away and within moments the pair had drunk their fair share of ale and beers. Seeing that the devil had become sodden and lax in his physical form Jack told him that he had no money to pay the tab, and that if he turned into a silver coin he could pay the bartender and turn back later to claim him. To Jack’s surprise the devil complied and he deftly snatched up the silver piece and trapped him into his wallet, within which Jack had carried a crucifix. The devil was outraged. The presence of the cross meant that he was trapped in his changed state until Jack removed it. Confident in his victory Jack declared that he would release the devil on the condition that he leaves his soul untouched for an extra ten years. He released his captive and, bound by his agreement, reluctantly complied to spare Jack’s life, with a flick and a flame the devil had gone, vowing revenge on the man who had bested him.

Ten years hence, on the anniversary of Jack's triumph his time had finally run out. He found himself walking an all too familiar cobbled road, yet the body was no-where to be found this time around. In fact, quite done with pretence the devil appeared behind jack with a wicked grin across his face. This time he would take Jack’s soul to the underworld for good, no-more tricks and no-more treachery. Jack's time had run out completely. Jack, seeing no option, decided to flee up a nearby tree.

 The devil laughed at his pathetic attempts to escape him and climbed up after him. Yet upon reaching jack, he jumped down and hurriedly marked a crucifix into the base of the tree. Trapped once again he cried out in exasperation and demanded to know what jack wanted this time.

He made one simple demand that the devil was never to claim his soul into Hell. Cursing his name, the devil accepted and Jack slashed out the crucifix at the base of the tree. With a flick and a flame, the devil was gone.

However, Jack was not immortal. Eventually his life, now free from the burden of guilt of the prospect of Hell, had degenerated into a self-destructive cavalcade of indulgence and sin. His old body gave out and his soul rose to Heaven, expecting to be let in. Yet at the gates he was stopped by St Peter who told him that, due to his lecherous and sinful life, there was no way he could be let in to Heaven among the pure. The spurned Jack went to grovel at the gates of hell to find some semblance of rest for his weary soul. Yet the devil just looked on with laughter. He had obliged to Jack’s wishes so that he could not, under any circumstances, take his soul into Hell. He had granted his own damnation and his fate was one of his own making. As a final act of mockery the devil gave Jack an unending flame in a hollowed out pumpkin to guide him and so that others may know of his damnation.

From that day on Jack became Jack of the lantern, cursed from then until eternity's last breath to walk the earth neither living nor dead. His story remembered for falling on all hallows eve.