One-Eyed Jack

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window and tendrils of smoke snaked towards the village from its single smokestack.

Herman woke to the coarse whispers in his mind of "Burn...Burn, Burn to hell!" and lurched upright. The surreal pungency of burnt flesh lingered in his nostrils. Overwhelmed with impending doom, he slipped out of the cottage to the front porch, and his eyes swept the perimeter for any threat. He discovered the flickering eye from the cabin up the hill and collapsed to his knees.

"How can this be?" he said.

In a panic, he ran inside to check on his children. His two boys, ages eight and ten, were secure in their beds and fast asleep. He confirmed the windows were locked and hurried outside to close the storm shutters. Herman stumbled into the house, threw the lock, and sat guard with his shotgun across his lap. Cold sweat erupted from his face when the tendrils of smoke from the cabin fingered their way down the hill and, like a viper, pierced his eyes and nose and filled his lungs. The sweet-savory scent of barbecued brisket triggered his stomach to retch up what remained of his last meal.

On the other side of the village, the Widow Estalene rose before first light to milk her cow. She had set her stool amidst the decay of hay and manure when the invasion of the cabin's smoke permeated the air. The old woman gagged, her stomach heaved, and vomit splattered the ground. Outside the barn, her eyes were drawn to the cabin on the hill. The yellow candle in the window, like a one-eyed demon, taunted her mind.

"Burn! Burn....Burn! When I light the candle in me's window, ya's know I'm back, and One-eyed Jack is coming for your children!"

She trembled in fear while her bladder let go and urine trickled down her legs. Her lungs struggled for air when she ran for the house, tripped once, and finally slammed the door shut. Safe, but trapped in the pungent smells of her own guilt.

The smoke enveloped the entire village in the valley until the sweet fragrance of cooked fatty pork slipped under every door and window. The streets were deserted as the residents hid in terror for they knew their sin.

***

One year earlier

"Brisket for sale! Buy your County Blue Ribbon Brisket and Ribs," called out One-Eyed Jack as his cart ambled through the village center every Friday afternoon like clockwork.

Villagers lined up, and One-eyed Jack, a war veteran, sold out of the savory seasoned meat in a matter of minutes. After stopping at the general store, he drove the cart up the path to his cabin on the hill and to his lonesome life.

Word spread through the village that the Woodfield family's youngest son had been missing for days. Most believed he had run away from the abuse the family was notorious for; some suspected he had fallen in a well, and others speculated a pack of wolves may have devoured him. A new rumor spread from the local tavern that One-eyed Jack on the hill blended his pork with children to create his unique and award-winning barbecue.

The Widow Estalene, a bitter woman, the mother of Jack's wife Mary, blamed him for the death of her daughter in childbirth. At quilting bees, she gossiped that Jack, her former son-in-law, might be a killer and fed the tale of the Woodfield boy to her audience.

The Constable was forced to gather a posse and investigate Jack and his cabin. Bits of human bones, children's teeth, and strands of silky hair were found in the muck of the hog pen behind the cabin. Jack denied doing anything wrong, but the Constable detained him in the village jail until the County Sheriff could come to investigate.

A hound dog traipsed through the town with a bloody tissue-strewn leg bone from the butcher's shop. Within minutes the lamb leg had become the Woodfield boy's leg. As the sun set, men gathered in the tavern and empowered with ale, decided justice could not await the Sheriff.

The Woodfield-led throng illuminated by torches stood before the Constable in front of the one-cell jail.

"Give him over to us James and you won't be hurt," Mr. Woodfield said, "He murdered my son."

"We never found a body," said James, "There has to be a trial."

"He fed them to the hogs," said a villager.

"The village ate the hogs," said another.

A morbid silence of realization sobered the crowd. Some retched, others wept at the thought of their unknown guilt, and the knowledge birthed a wave of renewed wild anger.

The mob overpowered the Constable and dragged One-eyed Jack to a clearing on the edge of the village. Every villager, like rabid dogs, frothed at the mouth and came to bear witness to the execution.

"Eye for an eye," shouted Mr. Woodfield and the crowd echoed him, "Eye for an eye."

The wild-eyed villagers, in a rage, beat One-eyed Jack with wood bats, sliced him with their knives, and cut off his ears and nose until a frothy bloody pulp remained of his face. They tossed him on a pile of dry wood, and the Widow Estalene lit the pyre with her torch. Herman stood on the edge of the shadows and witnessed the torture and murder of One-eyed Jack. The conflict of satisfaction and grotesque horror bent his mind toward insanity.

One-eyed Jack screamed through the rising flames that licked the blood off his body and blistered his skin from red to black.

"Damn you all. When I light the candle in me's window, ya knows I'm back, and One-eyed Jack is coming for your children! Once a year! The price will be paid. When you forget, the one-eyed window will remind you, your children, and your children's children."

Flames leaped from his body as his internal gases ignited, and fire burst from his mouth and eye sockets. The inferno consumed his bones, and the vigilantes choked on the acrid remains.

***

In the late afternoon with the sky already dark from the cabin smoke, the Constable, Herman's cousin, stopped by his cottage.

"Herman, I warned you to leave One-eyed Jack alone; you and I both know he was innocent. You came up with the yarn about him feeding children to his pigs because you were jealous he won the barbecue contest at the County Fair," James said.

“Or did it still eat at you, Mary chose him over you years ago? Do you blame him for her death in childbirth as her mother does?"

"I had no idea the Woodfields would raise a lynch mob and break him out of prison," Herman said,"

"You ignore the fact we found the Woodfield boy's remains in the old mine shaft last month," James said.

"Planting bones and bits of hair you dug up from the pauper's cemetery in his hog pen and giving the stray dogs leg bones to gnaw on took it too far, Herman," James said.

“If you weren't family, I would have run you out of town," James said, "Damn you, your jealousy has cursed this village."

***

A scream erupted from a nearby cottage in the center of town. Villagers leered from their windows, but none ran to lend aid.

"Susie, where is my little Susie," a woman cried, "Please someone help me."

She ran from door to door and hammered them with her fist until they were bloodied. Not a villager would open their home to her. Fear drives shock, and shock breeds cowardice. The woman collapsed in the street to her knees and wailed.

"Susie, SUSIE! One-eyed Jack has taken my Susie."

Every person in the village thought, "Better her child than mine," and no one helped her.

The following day the smoke cleared, and the single candle no longer burned in the cabin's window, the one-eyed memorial to a village's sin until the next year. The community returned to a quasi-normal, and the curse was deemed unspeakable.

***

The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but tonight, the night of the curse. The candle will burn again in vengeance as it has for one hundred and thirty-eight years, sweet and savory smoke will descend, and One-eyed Jack will claim the price of the village's children or their children's children--- or---maybe---you.