User:Dcsg/The Becoming of Jack

Book Information
Writer	Dcsg

The Becoming of Jack

by Unknown

A series of happenings that molds a boy into someone twisted

---

Jack was born to the insidious Assassin whose dealings were of the most portentous and inscrutable sort. Though the errands of the Assassin might suggest a grand scheme of executive design, they served no one and may well have acted solely on vagary. Though coition was one of their most favored armaments, they unerringly remained unimpregnated. All the more mysterious it is, then, that the Assassin chose to carry and bear Jack to never-a-more profligate sinner who did not live to exit the bed they shared.

The Assassin brought the baby Jack everywhere. They made no modification to their unscrupulous undertakings in spite of the boy's presence. And so before he was of speaking age, Jack was subjected to witness the Assassin's myriad wicked atrocities. It was in the Assassin's custody that Jack learned of the frailty and susceptibility of flesh.

Though the Assassin practiced secrecy inexorably, they made an exception in sharing the news of the boy with their brother, the Woodsman. The Woodsman grew jealous, and so lured the unwitting Assassin into a great forest, with Jack, of course, in tow. While his sibling's back was turned, the Woodsman silently emerged from the leaves. He beckoned, and Jack came, for the boy knew no better. Before he could do so much as to call for help, Jack found himself in the Woodsman's dank, forsaken cellar. There he remained in isolation for much of his childhood. All Jack could do to pass the time was read the same handful of discarded tomes with which he shared this misfortune. Be it the rotting books or the enduring captivity, it was there that Jack learned to want; to crave and to seek and to itch.

Then, one day, the cellar door was unlocked and opened. Bells jingled blithely as the Fool capered merrily into the cellar. As the Fool picked Jack up and gamboled with him beyond the reaches of the forest, the Fool fibbed that it had been arranged for him to be Jack's guardian. The child Jack did not protest and the two were no sooner before an auditorium of spectators, playing the parts of merrymen. Most laughed, some cried, some mimicked. It was somewhen in the torrent of such performances that Jack learned the simplicity and fallibility of the mind.

One night, while the Fool was busy lacquering his marotte, Jack sat alone in his tent. Unannounced, the Hag entered. From her black robe, she withdrew a fig and presented it to Jack. Jack ate it while the Hag caressed his head and held him close. Then, when he was done, she took his hand and gently led the boy far away to her secluded home. There, the Hag was always tender with Jack. She showered him with treats and spent much of her time cuddling the boy. However, Jack found the Hag stifling, and oft withdrew from her embrace to explore the unlit rooms of the house, thereby breaking the only rule imposed upon him by the Hag. It was in doing so that Jack learned to hide and to deceive.

One day, while Jack was venturing the farthest reaches of the manse, he heard the concerned voice of the Hag calling to him. Jack searched for a way past the Hag so he may plausibly deny his insolence, but there was none. Cornered against a wall, he crawled through its lone window, opaque with grime. He fell, and tumbled, then tumbled some more, until finally Jack found himself among the gnarled and decrepit trees of the Beastmaster's territory. Without a moment's respite, Jack heard the distant howls of the Beastmaster's hounds, and even young Jack knew to run. And so he did, through thicket and bramble, beyond gleaming eyes of cowering night creatures, upon innumerable tracks of monsters past. As swift as Jack was, he could not outdistance the call of the Beastmaster's beasts. It was in this chase that Jack learned the value of instinct and the oppressive power of hopelessness.

Tired and trounced, Jack quit and collapsed upon the ground. His resignation was interrupted when he noticed the glint of his own reflection in front of him. Where Jack had not noticed before, a vast expanse of water stretched beyond the land. In its far distances, Jack could barely make out the faint silhouette of an island. With renewed vigor, Jack plunged into the water. When he finally clambered upon the island's shore, Jack was greeted by a tempestuous storm. The island was littered with antique mirrors, candles, statuettes, extravagant clothes, and other wares of craft. The storm's winds tossed them around, shifted the sands, and shrouded and uncovered the land's features. Jack pushed through the storm until he came upon the ostentatious house of the Fabricator, the homesteader of the island whose handiwork drifts about the island. Indisposed to make a new acquaintance, Jack turned away. As he pondered his options under the raging storm, Jack came to realize that, in the absence of a guardian, he could live on his own terms.

Jack did not mind the storm on the island. Using the Fabricator's refuse, he made a simple abode to protect himself from the elements. However, Jack found himself using his new home very little. It hadn't taken him long to discover a cable ferry on the island which he could use to travel to a remote region. There, a village stood, lorded by no one. Jack became enamored with the village in an unusual sense. Jack loved to set hidden obstacles in their walkways, pour metal into their locks, and leave malodorous putrefaction in inaccessible places. He loved to kill their livestock, salt their fields, and break their gates and windows. He loved to start great fires with planks from their houses and bones from their animals and tombs and to burn effigies of well-respected villagers. In this village, Jack learned to love the fear of others.

Jack was discreet and wily in all things, most of all in his retreats to his secret home. But the Undertaker could navigate darkness like no other. She followed Jack to the cable ferry and took it, in turn, to the Fabricator's stormy island. The Undertaker was there waiting when the boy awoke. In her harsh voice, she greeted Jack by name and introduced herself. She stated plainly that Jack was trespassing, which Jack acknowledged. She insinuated that most would prefer a place they could call their own, and Jack agreed. Wielding her shovel, the Undertaker unearthed an assortment of the Fabricator's miscellany. She sat and collected the items, inviting Jack to create a doll of himself. Jack was taken in by the Undertaker's similarity to himself and her apparent understanding of his character. He allowed himself to have some fun with the task and presented the doll of his likeness to the Undertaker. She told Jack that though the doll depicts how a stranger may see him, it does not yet represent how he sees himself or the ways he wants himself to be. This gave Jack pause as he evaluated himself, his actions, his desires, his history. Underneath it all, Jack found a boy who wanted to do the right thing. He amended his doll accordingly, but when he glanced up for the Undertaker's approval, he was instead faced with a rising wall of dirt and sand beyond his ramshackle door. Jack barely managed to escape, leaving his abode and his doll behind, buried.

The Undertaker worked furiously with her shovel, tearing apart Jack's nook of the island with disregard. Soon, she was out of sight, and so was the Fabricator's house and the storm, leaving Jack alone to rule his many mounds of dirt. Jack sank his head into his hands and cursed his weakness. However, he came to understand his new, true freedom. And when he finally realized that the cable ferry remained, he knew that the story of Jack had only just begun.