“I’ll be fast as a breeze” Jack said, and ran to the nearest apple tree. He climbed up hurriedly a few feet above the ground, but lost his grip and slipped down.
Devil glanced at his wristwatch and remained silent.
Jack grasped the trunk in a tight embrace, and climbed up slowly, inch by inch, by pushing his bare feet against the trunk. Devil watched his progress impatiently, growing restless with each move.
“Hurry up, you loathsome wretch!” Devil shouted “I don’t have the whole day for you!” and stamped his foot in anger.
“Yes Sir, just a few moments more…” Jack replied, “The trunk has become slippery due to rains”.
“Is it so?!” Devil reacted harshly as he observed Jack, pulling himself up unsteadily, and breathing heavily.
Jack reached the lowest branch, and grasped it desperately like a drowning person. His feet slipped, lost contact with the trunk, and he remained hanging from the branch with the fingers on both his hands locked against each other and his feet hanging two meters above the ground. Desperately, he tried to pull himself up, and managed to place one of his feet on the branch.
When Jack managed to place his other feet on the branch, he looked more like a corpse, tied by his wrists and feet to a thick pole and being carried on shoulders. Devil looked at him with deep contempt and irritation.
Jack’s fingers unlocked suddenly and he fell down on his butt with a thud.
“You clumsy oaf!” Devil roared, “You wait, I’ll climb the tree and fetch you some apples”.
Devil grasped the trunk, climbed up fast, and started plucking apples.
Jack got up, marked an imaginary cross on the trunk with his finger and then taking out the silver crucifix from his pocket, he stuck it on the tree-trunk.
“What are you doing?” Devil shouted at Jack “I have got stuck to the branch!”
Jack smiled and ignored Devil.
“Let me come down!” Devil pleaded, “I’ll give you the finest, juicy, ripe apples”.
“Set you free in return for a few apples?” Jack laughed “No, Thanks! Now watch this” Jack walked away to the nearest apple tree, and climbed up swiftly like a squirrel. He plucked two apples, and displaying them to the Devil, he took a large bite.
“You swine! You…. you rascal!!” Devil screamed.
“Swear as much as you like” Jack said, “Now, you are as helpless as an insect on a fly-paper. You can’t even move your limbs”.
“Set me free” Devil shouted with a mixed tone of anger and pleading, “I am feeling weak and dizzy”.
“Neither am I feeling great from starvation” Jack said. “You are stuck, so breaking free is your headache. Why do I bother? My concern is to fill my empty stomach”. Jack concentrated on the apples, oblivious to Devil’s struggle.
Jack turned deaf to Devil’s pleadings. But soon the whining of Devil turned too irritating for Jack to ignore. “Last year, it was entirely my fault that I felt pity on you and let you transform back from a coin” Jack said loudly, hoping to shut Devil’s mouth “I won’t repeat that mistake”.
“But I did reciprocate by allowing you to eat apples; didn’t I?” Devil objected “Was that my guilt, for which I am being punished?” Devil whined with louder intensity.
“Let me put it this way” Jack said “Last year I let you transform back from the coin. I paid the price for your freedom by parting with the coin in my pocket. But did you pay me back with my own coin? I mean, did you treat me in the same way as I did? Would you have ever set me free, had I not managed to stick you in that tree?”
Jack finished eating, climbed down, and started walking away.
Devil started yelling “Set me free! I am ready to accept any of your conditions”.
Jack stopped, thought for some time and then shouted back “then promise me, that you will never take my soul to hell”.
What other option did the Devil have, but to yield submissively?
* * *
Jack was only eighteen now, but had already picked up the habit of frequent drinking to escape the harsh realities and sorrows of his life.
Jack woke up one night and felt much lighter. He picked the glowing pumpkin lantern from the table, and proceeded towards the dressing room.
Holding his lantern, he went to the mirror, expecting to find his eyes reddish from heavy drinking. He raised his lantern, and as he looked at the mirror, he screamed with horror.
He saw his face, semi-transparent as a mist, as if he was made of smoke! Jack gazed at the mirror, paralyzed with fear.
He lowered his lantern, and pulled up his gown. Instead of his feet, he saw a trail of thin smoke from his waist downwards, which tapered like a snake’s tail and vanished just before touching the ground. He was hovering in the air.
He glided back effortlessly to his bed and found that he had left his body behind!
His first reaction was complete shock. He remained motionless, watching his own lifeless body. Only now, he truly appreciated how handsome it looked, with long, black, wavy hairs, good muscular build and fair skin.
“My whisky must have been adulterated with poisonous wood alcohol!” Jack whispered.
Jack broke down in a sob. He hid his face in his palm and wept bitterly. What have I done! Why did I ignore the risk and friendly advices and continue drinking? Why didn’t I see my end coming so soon? Oh my God! I am too young to die. If only I had a second chance to rectify!
It took quite some time to recover from the shock. Slowly, he calmed down, and finally accepted his fate. Jack prepared to leave this world forever, and enter the other world.
* * *
Jack’s soul was denied entry at the Gate of Heaven. The reason given was his heavy-drinking lifestyle.
“But I have sworn to become sober!” Jack strongly protested, “My drinking habit shall go to the grave with my body.”
“Entry into heaven is decided by a lifetime of actions and not by one's deeds after death”.
The only other ‘Final Destination’ Jack knew was the Gate of hell, towards which, he proceeded with a sullen face.
“So why have you come, Jack?” Devil demanded furiously, and without waiting for a reply, he shouted “If you have come, to gain entry into hell, then my answer is: ‘No! Never!’ Do you understand? I shall remain truthful to my promise, and never take your soul to hell”. Devil’s eyes glowed like red-hot charcoal with revenge “Do you think I’ll ever forget your dirty mischief, Jack?”
“But where do I go?” Jack pleaded.
“Back from where you came”, Devil roared “and you shall be doomed to roam the dark marshes and lonely roads at night, till eternity’s end. That’s my command”.
Devils softened a bit, and said “But wait Jack! You shall need an eternal fire to light your unending dark paths. Here, take it...” Devil scooped out some burning embers of hell from the fireplace with his hand-shovel, and placed it inside Jack’s pumpkin lantern.
“And remember!” Devil warned Jack, as he was leaving “if ever you disobey this command, I shall break my promise and send you to the lowest circle of hell-the circle of eternal torture!”
* * *
Jack placed the pumpkin lantern on his table, and re-entered his own lifeless body. Almost instantly, the inert body came to life and he rose up, as if nothing had happened.
He looked at the mirror and was amazed to see that he looked even more handsome now. There was something extremely attractive about his face now, like Adonis of Greek mythology. He touched his own hair. It felt much softer. He had heard stories about eternal beauty and youth of vampires and human undead, which rose up from their coffins, but never believed it till that moment.
Jack thought, he had a dream……………but no! The pumpkin lantern with the glowing embers inside, was an undeniable proof, and reminded him what had happened.
“It’s too good to be true!” Jack muttered. He took out his Jackknife, and cut his finger. Blood gushed out and he felt acute pain. T
his is not a dream! He placed his finger in his mouth. Then he fell on his knees and with folded hand he prayed “O my Lord! You have given me a second chance! I swear I shall never drink again”.
Almost instantly, it flashed in his mind there is still some whisky left in the bottle.
Jack rushed forward, fetched the bottle and placing it on the floor, he muttered, “I feel like pissing in the bottle!” He kicked the bottle so hard that it struck the wall and shattered into pieces, spilling the whisky. The strong smell of whisky gave him a nauseating feeling, a sudden disgust, as if he would instantly vomit.
Jack roamed alone in the marshes all night, pondering. It is a death and rebirth experience for me. I have become sober from a drunkard.
Jack had the whole night to ruminate. I am technically a ‘corporeal undead’ now. Jack concluded. But what have I become-a zombie; or maybe a vampire; or perhaps only an undead human?
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Chapter 4
Tick-tock: Time flies so fast
Days turned to months, months to years, and years to decades. Jack had no other real option, but to obey Devil’s command and roam alone in the darkness of the night, carrying his pumpkin lantern. Jack’s aging had stopped completely after his ‘death and rebirth’ experience, and he always appeared to be in his late teens and eternally handsome.
Jack was wandering alone one late night, carrying his pumpkin lantern, when he happened to pass along the solitary hut of an ancient Celtic druid. He heard a mournful wail, and rushed inside the hut.
Jack found an old druid, lying alone on his deathbed and moaning feebly. Jack sensed instantly that he was so feeble that he could not even turn around or move his limbs. A smell of urine hung in the air.
On seeing Jack, he moaned “water…water…I am dying of thirst”.
Jack placed his pumpkin lantern on the table, and fetched a glass of water from an earthen pitcher from one corner of the hut. Then he gently quenched the dying man’s thirst.
“Throughout my life, I have cured ill persons, saved life, and performed the rituals of ‘oak and mistletoe’ to raise new families…” the druid said with a deep sigh “…and now I lay alone counting my remaining breaths. How I wish I were surrounded by friends and family at my last moments!”
Jack felt the acute pain of loneliness of the helpless soul from his own experience of unending lonely nocturnal roaming.
“I can feel my death approaching fast,” the Celtic druid said in a feeble voice. With much effort he clasped Jack’s hand and made an ardent request “Promise me that you will give proper respect to my dead body”.
Jack remained silent. Then he spoke in a mournful tone “I shall give you a proper burial”. Jack kissed his own silver crucifix and said, “May your soul find eternal peace”.
“No!” the druid protested, “Our clan of Celts don’t bury the dead, but cremate them. Promise me a proper funeral”. He paused, gasping for breath and then said, “We Celts don’t pray for eternal peace, but we believe in re-birth. All soul is reborn and is returned to the cycle of life”.
Jack wiped his tears. He controlled his emotions and said with a determined tone “I promise you a proper funeral”.
“You have a big heart” the druid said “only a sensitive person will bother to care for a dying old stranger at the dead of the night, and shed tears for him”.
The Celtic druid tossed and turned in his deathbed, showing signs of breathlessness. It was clearly visible on his face that he was wearing out his remaining strength. “I have no successor” he spoke with great effort “You must have been sent by God at my last moments. Before I breathe my last, I adopt you as my own son”.
Jack could no longer hold back the tears flowing down his cheek.
“Before I close my eyes” the druid spoke with great difficulty “I wish to hand you over my most valued treasure, which I inherited from my father…which has been passing down for generations in our family…There, remove that brick from that marked spot on the wall…” the druid pointed at a black spot and fell silent.
Jack stepped forward, picked up a rusty crowbar and removed the brick. He found a small rusted tin box placed inside a small hollow. He fetched it back, opened the lid, pulled out an old paper and gazed at the pale, lifeless face of the dying druid.
“Our Celtic God of the dead controls the dark world and spirits of the dead and he can also let them haunt wild at night. Now unfold that paper!” the druid spoke with an energetic burst of excitement, just like a candle, which burns brightest, just before burning off.
Jack unfolded the paper and saw a Wicca pentagram symbol and a verse on it.
“That verse gives authority over the dark world” the druid spoke in one breath “but only when uttered seven times at midnight in a lonely graveyard, on the waxing gibbous phase of the moon, when the wolves howl seven times, and the owl hoots thrice…and…and…” the voice of the druid choked and he closed his eyes. He was breathing desperately like a drowning person. He muttered something almost inaudible, which feebly sounded like”…and on sighting a shooting star”.
“Getting all that combination together is an extremely rare event” the druid sighed “I had been waiting for that rare moment for my whole life, but didn’t find it”.
He grasped Jack’s hand tightly and said, “As my adopted son, you must promise me to respect our ancient tradition. You must dress in scary costumes like ghost or zombie or skeleton during the month of ‘Samhain’ to frighten away evil spirits. Swear to me”.
“I swear” Jack said.
The old druid smiled with intense gratitude and breathed his last.
Jack held the druid’s wrist between his fingers and found that his heartbeat has stopped. Jack closed his eyelids gently and kissed his own crucifix.
* * *
Jack was doomed to roam the dark lonely paths of Ireland till eternity on Devil’s command.
Jack kept his promise to the Celtic druid and dressed in scary costumes during the Celtic month of ‘Samhain’. But people outside the Celtic Druid’s locality were not aware of this ‘Samhain’ tradition, and things went awry.
When a lonely traveler saw adolescent Jack, dressed as ghost and carrying the ghostly-light emitting pumpkin lantern, he shuddered with fear. He spread horror stories about Jack to his relatives and friends like a contagious disease. Others, who met a zombie or a skeleton carrying a pumpkin lantern, also spread the words like scarlet fever.
Even those who never met Jack, enthusiastically told scary stories about Jack, describing him as a monster, or a stingy middle aged man with a heart of stone, or a Devil-incarnate or God knows what! And the listener in turn would add more spices, a pinch of salt and swear that every word was true, and was only recounting his own horrific experience.
In the eventful year of 1846 A.D., Ireland came under the spell of the ‘Great Potato Famine’. Thousands of Irish people started immigrating to North America. Since Jack had no hope of a change in fate, he decided that he should try for a change of place. He managed to grab hold of a ticket, and boarded a ship, bound for North America.
* * *
In the new world, Jack started residing in an old wooden mansion, in a Mexican settlement called ‘village of the dead’ in the ‘Great Lakes’ region.
Jack was roaming alone in a haunted cemetery one midnight. Jack was completely unaware of the horrific reputation of that cemetery, where unidentified corpses were often buried without a proper ritual. There were rumors that dark creatures lurked in that cemetery at midnight and corpses rose from their graves.
Jack was startled by a hooting sound.
Jack searched for the origin of the sound, and spotted an owl sitting on a tree. Jack saw a corpse hanging by its neck from the branch of that tree.
A howling cry came from nearby. Jack shuddered in alarm.
“Wolves!” Jack whispered, as the howling grew steadily louder. The howling cry ended with a hyena like laughter.
“Oh my God!” Jack wh
ispered as he froze with fear “Those are not wolves but a pack of werewolves: at least half a dozen of them!”
Jack stared at the moon to see if it was full moon, when werewolves turn particularly ferocious and feed on carcass or raw human flesh. Jack was surprised to find that the moon was in the gibbous phase.
An eerie silence followed, broken only occasionally by the chirping of cricket insects.
The owl hooted again. The howling cry followed by hyena like laughter appeared to come from all directions. Jack was being surrounded by a pack of hungry werewolves, and they were closing in on him. Jack felt his heart thumping in his chest, and a chilling fear made his hair stand on end.
Jack prayed and gazed at the heavens hoping for a miraculous rescue. He saw a shooting star. “Must be an omen of providential rescue,” Jack whispered.
Something struck in Jack’s mind like a lightning flash. He rushed to the nearest grave and sat down in front of a tombstone. He recited the verse, which the dying Celtic priest had given him.
Another volley of howling sound broke the deadly silence of the night.
Jack recited the verse again in panic. The owl hooted again, with an unearthly blood-chilling tone.
Drops of sweat appeared on Jack’s forehead and his mouth went dry out of fear. He recited the verse again.
Jack heard soft creaking noises all around him. He watched with horror as the lids of several half-buried coffins moved, and shadowy smoke-like figures rose and soared up from the buried coffins.
Jack closed his eyes, gathered all his courage and recited the verse again…and then once again.
All around him, corpses were rising from their graves and crawling out.
Jack recited the verse one last time.
A gust of wind sent the dead leaves and twigs hurtling on Jack’s face. Then everything stopped abruptly.
The zombies and vampires came closer, knelt down in submission, and bowing down their heads, they said to Jack “Give us your order, young master”.
“What!?” Jack stammered.
“We are your obedient servants” they said in unison. The hovering ghosts cried in a shrill voice “Master! Master!” Some of them were clanking their rusty iron chains.
“We will obey you and raise you our dark army from far and wide,” they said.