Mister Jack-O-Lantern

“Have you ever taken a long look at Johnny Waite’s eyes? Johnny’s eyes are as black as his stained soul, and what is behind that boy’s eyes is pure evil. The worst monsters are human beings. The ones who appear normal on the surface.”

~ Dr. Thomas Davison, author

*****

Jack:

The good people and townsfolk of Autumnsville, Ohio, gave Mister Jack-O-Lantern his nickname. The moniker was well earned, for Mister Jack-O-Lantern was the most incredible pumpkin carver people had ever seen.

Jack’s creations were so intricate and lifelike that they drew people from all corners of the country to the annual Autumnsville Festival. The anticipation built every year as the townsfolk could hardly wait to see the master carver’s latest creations. People smiled when they recalled the happy, cartoonish witches, black cats, spiders, ghosts, and many other characters.

The pumpkin carver was a man of slight build who lived alone in a tiny home on the outskirts of the village. Mister Jack-O-Lantern was happy and content because he was making a living doing what he loved best: creating fantastical creatures with his carvings.

Whatever Jack’s mind could dream, his hands could bring to life as carvings. The carver had a gift he was sharing with the world and considered himself a fortunate man.

One evening, Jack’s good fortune changed overnight.

Johnny:

Johnny Waite Junior was a seventeen-year-old high school student who was a sadistic bully and was constantly in trouble with the law. The young teen was the only spoiled child of Autumnsville’s Mayor, Big John Waite. The son would cause mischief and pain, and the father would bail him out—a continuous cycle of failure.

Johnny Junior and his father despised each other.

One fateful early autumn evening, Johnny and two of his cronies were driving past the little house of Jack-O-Lantern when the sadistic bully was struck with an inspiration. Johnny Junior slammed on the brakes, leaped from his car, popped the vehicle’s trunk release, and removed an aluminum baseball bat.

Johnny Waite’s two (less-than-average intelligence) followers shouted, “Whatcha doing, Johnny?” and: What’s with the bat, dude?”

Johnny declared eagerly, Come on, guys! Let’s smash some pumpkins.”

*****

Jack:

From inside his living room, Mister Jack-O-Lantern heard the car come to a skidding halt in his driveway. The carver listened to the sound of a car door slamming and voices.

Jack thought, “It’s too late in the evening to visit someone’s home.”

The master pumpkin carver heard the familiar creaking sound of the large door to his workshop being opened and instinctively reached for his phone. The small Sheriff’s Department 911 operator didn’t answer, and the call went to a recording. He sputtered, “Sheriff, this is Jack-O-Lantern. Someone just broke into my workshop. They’re here now. Please, hurry!”

Jack began pacing nervously. He couldn’t bear the thought of intruders handling his creations. Most of the carver’s older pieces were sealed under double-paned, strengthened glass filled with a special gas that kept the vacuum free from rot. The master carver was worried about his newest work, which was exposed to the elements and the burglars.

He couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

Jack-O-Lantern must see if his work is safe. He loved them like they were his babies, his children. Hopefully, the Sheriff will receive his message and arrive soon.

*****

Johnny:

Johnny Waite Junior was winded and sweaty. The teenager and his friends had made quick work of destroying the fresh carvings on the worktable. However, most of Jack-O-Lantern’s collection was sealed in some weird sort of special double-paned glass to protect the contents.

It took Johnny and his friends half a dozen swings with the heavy bat to break open each box.

The young Waite looked around the workshop. Almost half of the boxes had been breached. He had to admit it was hard work. He needed a break and handed the bat to one of his friends to continue while he took a breather.

Johnny Waite heard the anguished cry, “No! Please, stop. What are you doing?”

The teenager smiled evilly, “Looky here, boys. We got us a new pumpkin that needs smashing. Hand me that bat.”

*****

Sheriff Ron Davison:

Deputy Thomas (Tommy) Davison looked around the workshop and was horrified. Tom (nicknamed Stringbean) had grown up attending Autumnsville’s Annual festivals, and he worshiped the family-friendly work of Jack-O-Lantern. Who would want to hurt the quiet, kind little pumpkin carver?

It just didn’t make any sense!

Tommy worked the day shift. Uncle Ron had sent out an all-hands-on-deck call. He had rushed to the scene of the crime. His uncle, the Sheriff, was playing back the video from the workshop’s two outdoor cameras.

The young Deputy heard Sheriff Adams bellow. “Gotcha! You little prick bastard. I swear to God Almighty, you are going down this time.” The Constable looked around the littered and bloody workshop. “Tom! Where are you, son?”

Tom yelled back, “I’m right here, sir!”

Sheriff Ron Davison’s face looked stern. “Come with me. We are going to make an arrest.”

The young Deputy asked excitedly, “Who will we arrest, Sheriff?”

The Sheriff’s voice was filled with anger. “Junior! We are going to arrest the mayor’s son and lock that little psycho up tight this time.”

*****

Nurse Irene Shaw:

Irene Shaw couldn’t believe it! She had to reread the headline in the Autumnsville Gazette three times to ensure she had read it correctly. Oh my God, how could she break this news to her patient, Mister Jack-O-Lantern?

Did she really have to be the one to tell him?

Yes! She was Jack’s nurse. She had helped him through thirteen operations and three months of painful rehabilitation. It was her duty.

Nurse Irene Shaw would not shirk her sacred duty and oath.

Nurse Shaw knocked softly on Jack’s door and heard his always polite voice, “Is that you, Nurse Irene?”

Irene bit her lower lip. “Yes, Jack. I’m coming in. I have some news to share with you.”

The pumpkin carver’s voice whispered, “Come in, please.” Irene entered the darkened room. Before she could close the door behind her, Jack asked, “Is it the boy’s court hearing?”

Not trusting her voice, Nurse Shaw nodded her head. “Is it bad, Irene?” She paused until her eyes adjusted to the blackness in the room. Then, she bravely faced the dark shadow of the deformed figure on the bed.

With tears filling her eyes, the dedicated nurse answered, “It’s terrible news. The so-called Judge ruled that Johnny Junior would not be tried as an adult. Then that politically appointed moron of a Judge ordered that Johnny be sent to a medical facility to be treated for his mental problems.

Nurse Irene sighed heavily.

Irene said sadly, “I’m afraid there’s more, Jack. It’s the sentence. Johnny Waite is to be incarcerated in the Ohio Juvenile Detention Center until he reaches the age of twenty-one. Or… until the Medical Staff decides he is mentally fit enough to return to society.”

Their first report is due in ninety days.

Jack-O-Lantern slowly and painfully turned his twisted body to face the wall. “I see. Thank you, Nurse Irene.”

Nurse Irene Shaw quietly closed the door behind her as her patient wept softly.

*****

“I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.”

~ Victor Frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

*****

The Voice in The Workshop:

No one walks by the tiny house that belongs to Mister Jack-O-Lantern anymore. The little carver hasn’t been seen in public since the attack. It is rumored that despite numerous reconstructive surgeries, neither his face nor the multitude of broken bones could be made whole.

The home’s interior is always dark, and the neighbors never see the lights on. Humpty-Dumpty couldn’t be put back together again.

Mister Jack-O-Lantern felt like a jigsaw puzzle with several pieces missing. The first time Jack saw his face in a mirror after the attack, it took his breath away.

They tried to reset his body’s skeleton back together with rods and plates, but his framework was too faulty to hold it all together.

Then, there was the constant pain that never went away.

Ninety days after being sent to Juvenile Detention, Johnny Waite Junior returned home, sporting a nasty sneer. The worst thing was that the carver had lost his gift. His reconstructed hands couldn’t move smoothly enough to use the tools of the trade he loved more than life.

It wasn’t fair!

The insistent, nasty Voice in Jack’s head spoke to him again.

“I have told you how you can make them all pay, Jack! Animate your children with His power. Use His magic, and you shall have your well-deserved revenge.”

The former master carver held discussions with the scary Voice numerous times, almost daily. “Yes, you have shown me a path for vengeance. But… what about the innocent villagers of Autumnsville? They don’t deserve to be punished.”

The Voice spoke soothingly,

“You will be in charge. You will control who is spared and who is not. You will yield His power in His name, but you decide.”

The bent and crooked man said, “But… I can’t make any more carvings. I have tried!”

The Voice chuckled evilly,

“You are trying to make fun and happy carvings, Jack. Open your mind, and I will show you limitless possibilities.”

Jack-O-Lantern hesitated. “And…the price?”

For the first time, the Voice spoke harshly.

“THAT IS NOT NEGOTIABLE, JACK!”

For several minutes. Jack stood quietly, thinking. Finally, he said, “Okay. It’s a deal. Show me what to do, please.”

The voice thundered until the walls of the workshop shook.

“YES! LET US BEGIN!”

*****

Deputy Tommy Davison:

Deputy Davison’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The young deputy was praying. “Please, God. Oh, please, God. Make it go away.”

Tom slowly opened his eyes.

No! The insanity, the madness, was still there in front of him.

The Mayor, Big John Waite Senior, had called the Sheriff’s Office demanding help. Deputy Tom was asked by his uncle, Sheriff Davison, to answer the call.

His uncle and the Mayor hadn’t spoken to each other since Junior’s arrest.

The Waite mansion was under attack. The advancing invaders weren’t human. A massive cluster of creatures surrounded the Mayor’s house. The dark, eerie attackers were silent. Of course, they were making no sounds!

The attackers were evil-looking carved pumpkins.

Tommy noticed the army of monsters was led by a smallish figure in a flowing black cape with a hood. The diminutive figure lowered the hood of its cape and shouted instructions at its followers.

Deputy Tom froze. The face under the hood looked like something a child would draw with a crayon. The features had become an out-of-kilter, misshapen mass.

The young Deputy trembled. He recognized one of the brown, sad eyes peering from the grotesque face. That eye belonged to Mister Jack-O-Lantern.

He thought, “What did they do to that sweet man who made those beautiful carvings?”

His second thought was, “Why should I risk my life to save the Waites? They caused all of this! This is some type of Cosmic Karma.”

The young deputy hopped into his Sheriff’s cruiser and swiftly reversed the vehicle fifty yards down the long mansion driveway.

Big John and Johnny Junior came out on their porch. They held beers and over-under skeet-shooting shotguns in their hands.

Junior slammed a heavy crate between the two of them.

The watching Deputy, figured the crate contained ammo and extra shotgun shells. The two men pointed and laughed at the advancing army of evil-looking pumpkin caricatures.

They must be drunks, fools, or both.

From where Deputy Davison sat in his cruiser, hypnotized, watching events unfold fifty yards away, he could feel the darkness emanating from the bizarre-looking attackers. The pumpkins were actually jack-o-lanterns, and a sickish green glow shone from within them.

BAM!

The first gunshot had been fired. Two of the larger jack-o-lanterns in the front row exploded into pieces. A few seconds later, the pieces lying on the ground began to glow. The nauseating green light began to throb and beat like some monstrous heart.

It was incredible!

He watched, jaw dropped, as the shards and shreds began to pull themselves together and reform into their original shape.

The fragmented creatures fell into line and continued onward.

The Waites seemed puzzled and frightened. Both men began firing as rapidly as they could reload their weapons. Soon, the hellish creatures swarmed over the Waites, who became enveloped in the green glowing jack-o-lanterns.

Then, the screams started—horrible, deep-throated screams of pain and anguish.

Next, the skies above the Mansion crackled with green lightning, forming a glowing circle in the air. The circle widened and throbbed until Tom could see a gate or portal form itself.

From the center of the portal appeared a pair of red glowing eyes.

A gravelly, deep voice bellowed,

“Bring them to me. NOW!”

All the horror Deputy Tom experienced throughout this crazy night was nothing compared to what he felt next. He saw the cut and bleeding bodies of Big John and Johnny Junior rise to the portal, smothered with biting and scratching green glowing jack-o-lanterns.

The two men’s voices hoarse from screaming, prayed, and begged for mercy until the cosmic gate swallowed their souls.

Tommy felt relief. It was over!

But—no, wait!

The powerful Voice spoke again.

“It is time. You must pay the price!”

The hooded man that he believed was Mister Jack-O-Lantern turned toward him. What remained of the little man’s face looked sadly in his direction, and he waved goodbye.

The young Deputy swiftly pushed the power button on the window. Lowering the window, he thrust his arm out and returned the wave. The master carver passed through the ringed portal, which blinked once and vanished.

Tom was wise beyond his years. Pulling his walkie-talkie, he clicked it on and asked for the Sheriff. “Uncle Ron? This is Tom. I am at the Waite Mansion, sir. There isn’t a living soul here. There is nothing to see except that the place is littered with smashed pumpkins.”

-pause- “Sir?”

-pause- “Yes, I said pumpkins.”

-pause- “Okay, I will wait here for you.”

Click

END