Jack lived
happily on his modest farm for several years.
But
little by little, the farm became a village; the village became a town;
the town became a city.
Jack did not care for the city. He sought quiet. He sought peace. And
above all, he sought solitude.
The
forest offered all of these. Jack moved away, built a new home that
was smaller and superior, and lived among the trees. He was happy in
the forest.
Many
years passed in solitude.
Eventually,
a couple settled in the forest near Jack and among his trees.
In
autumn, after the soil had taken the leaves, he could see their chimney;
if the wind blew right he could smell their cooking; and, if he listened
hard, during those brief moments of twilight when the woods became quiet,
he could hear their laughter.
They
were happy, his neighbors. They had stolen his happiness from him.
In
the winter, after dusk, he made little trips to see them, to establish
what could be done.
And
of course, Jack fell in love with the woman at first sight. His hate
focused (as hate will do) and shifted to the man alone. This woman would
be his.
On
an especially cold day, he crept through the barren foliage towards
his neighbors. He smelled the woman’s cooking inside the small
cabin and heard the man splitting wood out back. He beat the man to
death with a discarded piece of timber, paying close attention to the
mouth, nose and throat.
When
he entered the cabin, the woman looked up from her boiling cauldron
and saw the blood on Jack’s hands and shirt and piece of wood in
his hand and she knew what he had done.
He
put a finger to his pursed lips, but she had no intention of screaming.
“My
husband and I were chased from the city,” she said slowly, stirring
her pot. “But you chose to remove yourself from the world. One
day you will change your mind.”
He
laughed, and she laughed and tossed herself into the boiling pot.
Jack
added the piece of bloody wood to the fire beneath the pot. He watched
as it flared briefly and returned to his house, alone.
He
could not keep the woman out of his mind.
Jack
went into the city (it had grown through the years) to steal himself
another woman. He found one near the bridge, but when she looked at
him the bridge collapsed and she was washed away in the river.
Undiscouraged,
Jack ventured into the city’s winding streets, but every woman
who laid eyes upon him died a horrible and fantastic death. One stepped
to close to a sewer and was snatched by an alligator. Another was carried
away by a murder of crows. A meteor hit yet another.
After
twenty-seven women had died by the mere sight of him, Jack tried once
again to leave the city, but found himself hopelessly lost in its labyrinth.
The city continued to grow and twist as he desperately searched for
a way out, inadvertently claiming the lives of countless women.
After
years of searching, the city and it’s civilization crumbled. Trees
and hills and wild green things made themselves known to Jack again.
He
found his old forest again, but never the home he had built, nor that
of his neighbor-enemy.
He
died, alone, during those twilight hours in the woods when no sounds
are heard.
