ALL HALLOW'S READ - No Dreams of Dragons by Abby Polakow

She was always making the candy,

spinning it from her multitudes of memories...

It seems strange, but her favorite thing in the modern world was Halloween. On July 5th, when many shops began to fill their windows with skulls and pumpkins, she cheered, while others groaned and rolled their eyes. She liked having those extra months to prepare, to get all the decorations quite right, so that the children would be sure to visit her house trick-or-treating. After all, it was generally regarded as suspicious to hand out candy to random children any other day of the year. And suspicion was dreadfully painful to her, out of her own body (except for the horn,) and out of her own time as she was.

The candy, now, that was another matter entirely. She was always making the candy, spinning it from her multitudes of memories, flavoring it as no one else could, with her love. Hers was the kind of love that cannot even imagine judging another, would never dream of being owed anything, and would always be as plentiful for her as for those she bestowed it upon.

“Don’t see why you bother,” sniffed the dragon. He watched the first cluster of trick-or-treaters depart into the gathering dusk, having received their allotment of enchanted sweets for that year. She tucked an extra pillow behind him in his wheelchair and smiled sorrowfully. “You say that every year.”

“Do I?” he asked vaguely. “And what do you answer?”

“That it’s because of the dreams. Because the candy sends them dreams of my love for them. And I can enter those dreams. In those dreams, I can live again young, free, in my true form and with all my magic, just like in the old times!”

The dragon grunted and turned his head suddenly away.

The unicorn saw a tear form in the corner of his amber eye, and tenderly kissed him on his forehead. With a single deft movement, she scooped up the tear into a tiny vial and murmured, “Someday, old friend.”

Abby Polakow is a teacher, writer, a costume designer and the co creator of a line of paper dolls and activity books under the banner of The Spindle Sisters. She has had several of her own fairy tales published and is working on a novel. If she had to become a fairy tale creature it would most likely be a unicorn. Follow her on Twitter @SpindleSisters

Cover: Amanda Bergloff @AmandaBergloff

ALL HALLOW'S READ - Stingy Jack: The Man Who Stole the Devil's Wallet by zteve t. evans

This All Hallow's Read is a re-telling of an Irish folktale by author, zteve t. evans, of the infamous, Stingy Jack, (also known as Jack the Smith, Flaky Jack, or Jack of the Lantern)- a character associated with Halloween. The pumpkin jack-o-lantern may have derived from this colorful character and his interaction with the Prince of Darkness.

Way back in old Ireland several centuries ago, there was a well known character in many towns and villages across the country known as Stingy Jack. He had a silver tongue and could be very persuasive and charming yet was unquestionably a drunkard, trickster, blaggard and a man of all round devious character. 

According to legend, the Devil heard all about Jack’s tricks and deviousness and decided to see if he lived up to his evil reputation. It also has to be said, although he would never admit it, that he may have been more than a little envious of his notoriety. Maybe he thought Jack was getting too big for his boots and stealing his thunder, but anyway he decided it was time he paid him a visit, intending to carry him back to Hell.

When he arrived at Jack’s door on a Saturday night, Jack was out in the bars and pubs boozing and carousing with anyone and everyone.  Eventually, deeply inebriated and skint, he staggered homewards. After knocking on Jack’s front door several times the Devil realized it was Saturday night and Jack would surely be out on the town. He knocked one last time just in case, and as he did so, he heard someone stumbling up the garden path. As Jack staggered up the path, he suddenly became aware of a dark figure knocking loudly upon his door. 

“Hey! Who is that a-knocking on my door at this time of night when I am not in?” he drunkenly inquired.  The dark figure slowly turned and looked at Jack square in the face. Despite his drunkenness, Jack knew it was the Devil, and he had come to take him back to Hell.  

“Well now, seeing as my time is up would you oblige me with one last request?” he asked. 

The Devil, who was in no hurry, asked him what the request was.

“Well now, I would rather like a drink of good ale before I go,” replied Jack.

This seemed reasonable and perfectly harmless, so the Devil agreed, and Jack led him to a nearby inn. The Devil was still not in any hurry and allowed Jack to drink many jars of good ale. After Jack had drank his fill, the Devil was surprised when Jack told him it was time for him to pay the bill.  

The Devil was a little taken aback. Nevertheless, he put his in hand in his pocket for his wallet that issues a never ending supply of money, but had a shock. His wallet was well and truly gone.

“Jack!” exclaimed the Devil in panic, “My wallet has gone!”

He was feeling mighty embarrassed and wished the floor would open up and swallow him. People were staring, and he looked at Jack for help, but Jack was looking the other way and nonchalantly whistling.

“Er, Jack,” said the Devil grinning nervously, “Could you, er, you know, see your way to help me out, please?”

“Well now, it so happens I have an idea,” replied Jack amicably.

“I would be most grateful!” replied the Devil.

Using all his charm and silver tongue, Jack suggested that he turn himself into a coin of gold to pay the bill. The Devil was so deeply embarrassed and flustered by his predicament that he readily agreed and quickly turned himself into a coin of suitable value.  

As quick as a flash, Jack took up the coin and placed it in his pocket. As he did so, the Devil was shocked to see his missing wallet as Jack deftly took it out. Almost unbelievably, it happened that Jack, of all people, kept a small silver crucifix in that pocket. Small though it was, it had sufficient power to prevent the Devil returning to his true form. Jack quickly paid the landlord from the Devil’s wallet and with the Evil One now trapped in his pocket, left the pub for home.  

To his bemusement and irritation the Devil now found himself trapped in coin form. Once again, he found himself agreeing to another demand from Jack who proposed that if he should not come for his soul for ten years, then he would remove the crucifix, allowing him to return to his true shape. With more than a sneaking admiration for Jack’s deviousness, the Devil agreed, but silently vowed revenge.

“That was a dirty trick, Jack!” said the Devil indignantly, “Now, my wallet please.”

“Why thank you sir, I am glad I impressed you!” replied Jack handing the Devil his wallet and grinning. 

Ten years passed and once again, as Jack staggered down the path to his front door after a night on the town, the Devil appeared to him. Jack told him he had not forgotten and seemed to be prepared to accompany him, but then suddenly begged a favor.

“Well now," said Jack, “Before we go, could you see yourself providing me with a single apple to ease my hunger, if you please? You can see I am not in a fit state to go climbing trees,” he said pointing at his apple tree.

Foolishly, the Devil agreed and looking up saw an apple right at the top of the tree. Naively, he climbed up to bring it down. Seizing his chance Jack quickly laid a ring of crucifixes made from twigs around the bottom of the tree trunk containing the Devil to the tree.

The Devil was angry with Jack and even angrier he had been taken in. Indignantly, he demanded his release. However, Jack proposed that he would remove the crucifixes on the condition that he, the Devil, should never allow his soul to enter into Hell. Muttering dire curses under his breath, the Devil was forced to agree. Climbing down, he quickly checked for his wallet and found it gone.

“Jack my wallet, please!” demanded the Devil.

“Well now, sir,” said Jack, “It fell out of your pocket while you were climbing the tree, and I caught it for you.  No need to thank me!”

Snatching his wallet from Jack, the Devil quickly returned to Hell determined to have no more to do with the devious and untrustworthy Stingy Jack.

Maybe you might have expected Jack to change his ways, but he never did. He carried on drinking and cheating, but one day his body could not take the strain of such a debauched lifestyle any longer.  His soul went up to the Pearly Gates, but as he was about to enter Saint Peter stopped him. Sternly, he told him he could not enter because God had been watching and knew all about his drunken life and sinful ways. Therefore Jack went down to the Gates of the Underworld begging entry into Hell. 

The Devil, with an amused look on his evil face, reminded him of his pact that he could never allow his soul to enter Hell. He gave Jack an ember which signified that he was now a dweller of the netherworld. That is why Jack must roam between the realms of good and evil until Judgement Day, carrying an ember from Hell which he carries in a hollowed out turnip. This acts to warn others of his approach and to light his way in the netherworld. However, as Jack wandered off, the Devil put his hand in his pocket and was aghast to find his wallet was gone, but he could not enter the netherworld to retrieve it.  

Now you might think Jack was happy to have the Devil’s wallet with its never ending supply of money, but you see, there are no pubs and bars in the netherworld and nothing to spend all that money on, and that really broke Jack’s heart!

In April 2013, zteve launched his first blog that focused on legends, myths and folktales from around the world at Under the influence!. This has has grown steadily receiving visitors from 200 countries around the world so far. He has published a Kindle ebook, Havelock the Dane:Hero-King of Two Realms and has contributed  articles to the #FolkloreThursday website regularly since its launch and haunts Twitter here, @ztevetevans 

Image: Vintage illustration via Wikimedia Commons

All Hallow's Read - MIDNIGHT VISITATION by Deb Whittam

What did Jack and Jill go up the hill for?
Only one witness knows...

Detective Tom Walker cast one last glance towards the building that rose up like a monolith against the moonlit sky before turning to approach the young man who slouched against the police car with his arms folded. He had his suspicions, he had his theories, but he didn’t have his proof, and he scowled as he withdrew a notebook from his pocket, his irritation rising.

“Tell me what happened, slowly.” His words were precise as he fixed his implacable gaze on his witness, who had the courtesy to shift uneasily. Taking a deep breath, Tom staunched the inclination to grind his teeth; instinct declared the others words would be a complete fabrication, the only question remaining was the level of creativity his witness would employ.

“I already told that lot.” The young man’s tone was belligerent as he inclined his head towards an officer who stood nearby; “They went up the hill with a pail.”

“Why did they go up the hill?” he prompted. His reputation for perseverance was legendary. He liked to joke that it was in his genes, that his sixth sense told him when someone was hiding something. Those nearby knew that everything would be divulged, there was no other option.

“I told you before – I assumed for water. Why else would you need a pail?”

While he was used to his witnesses prevaricating, circumstance on this occasion suggested that this crime needed to be viewed from an alternate perspective. The consideration of key aspects prompted questions which might otherwise be ignored. There was the location and time of the attack, midnight excursions to secluded churches weren’t the norm. There were the victims. Jack and Jill were noted crusaders against the unnatural, their reputations were legendary, but more importantly, there was the behavior of the witness, the way his eyes kept darting towards the shadows spoke volumes.

These factors explained his presence, explained why he had been summoned to investigate.   

He was silent for a moment, weighing the others words carefully as he reached over his shoulder to scratch a familiar itch, unsurprised when the other flinched at the not so innocent gesture.

“Go on,” he prompted, with satisfaction. The other’s reaction was all the confirmation he required, and as if he recognized his error, the other continued in a rush.

“Jack and Jill went to the top; they were gone a long time. Then I saw them standing at the crest of the hill, holding the pail between them.” His words were almost infused with desperation.

With a smile, Detective Tom Walker let the response hang unacknowledged, enjoying the escalating tension, and then he gestured the other forward to whisper, “And that’s when you saw the shadow?” The other nodded. “A vampire?”

“I don’t know, it went dark, and then there was a scream. They came down like they had been thrown, ending up over there.”

Some may have chosen to believe him, they may have bought into his fabrication, but he wasn’t that gullible. It stunk of deceit. With a deliberate slowness, he glanced towards the spot indicated. The bodies had been removed, the other believed they had died but that wasn’t the case. Once the paramedics had recognized the cause of the injuries, they had acted and treated the victims accordingly with the old fashioned vinegar and brown paper remedy. They wouldn’t suffer the consequences of the vampire’s bite – their conversion had been averted.

“Can I go now?” It was there in his tone, the other was itching to flee.

He glanced towards the clouded sky; the full moon remained hidden from view, “In a moment, just one last question. You state that you witnessed the attack on Jack and Jill – known vampire hunters, yes?” A quick nod. “So, why did the vampire leave you, a witness, alive? Why weren’t you killed?”

As the clouds slid away, revealing the moon, it also illuminated both of their faces and any truths hidden were revealed in that instant. The other smiled grimly, acknowledging the adept manipulation which had caught him fair and square.

“Got me there werewolf,” the witness stated as his fangs jutted down to pierce his bottom lip, and Tom tensed at the scent of a familiar adversary.

“Let’s see how fast you can run vampire.” His features contorted, as he changed from human to werewolf, leaping at the other who was already fleeing.

The chase was on.

Deb Whittam is a graduated from Macquarie University Bachelor of Arts and is currently she traversing the great continent of Australia in a caravan. She seeks to explore the many forms of reality in her writing and examine how perspectives can alter when life is viewed through an alternate lens.

Follow her on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@DebbieWhittam

And check out her blog at http://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com

Cover: Amanda Bergloff

Follow her on Twitter @karenleestreet

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Check out Karen's books

Edgar Allan Poe and the Empire of the Dead

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Edgar Allan Poe and the Jewel of Peru 

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