"The Legend of Halloween Jack" by Lisa Morton
Cemetery Dance's A Halloween Short Story ebook series
Readers unfamiliar with "The Legend of Halloween Jack" by Lisa Morton may prefer to read these notes only after reading the story.
Le Fanu's "naked, impersonal malice of the world" is on full display in "The Legend of Halloween Jack" by Lisa Morton.
Jack, our protagonist, cheats a demon gambler who won his soul. He is given 365 more days, then the Devil himself will come to collect.
Like many addicts, Jack learns exactly the wrong lesson from his hair's breadth escape: "He could still beat the Devil."
Morton does a fine job telescoping Jack's shrinking number of days, and the way the addict's imp of the perverse keeps him from help until too late:
After Jack had escaped from Hell’s clutches, he’d made plans: He’d repent his evil ways. He’d devote himself to God, no sham preacher this time but a true believer, a veritable saint.
His road was paved with good intentions. And the first stop on the road was a bar, to celebrate his good fortune.
When he woke up two days later, hungover, in a prostitute’s stained bed, he’d remembered his vow: To give his life over to God, to earn Heaven instead of Hell. But he still had 363 days. Plenty of time.
A month later, he killed another gambler when the man accused him of cheating. That the man had been right didn’t matter; Jack carried a small knife in his pocket, and it had found its way into his accuser’s chest.
Oh well . . . he’d always wanted to see New Orleans.
So he fled to a new city, arriving once again determined to commit himself to the Lord. But New Orleans turned out to be a veritable treasure trove of sin: Bars, bordellos, casinos . . . it was almost as if they could be found on every block. And they weren’t like the ones in all those smaller places—the liquor was better, the women beautiful, the stakes high.
Jack had some talent as a gambler (he was a gifted cheat, in other words), and he began to make money. And with money at his disposal, in this city of better and more beautiful things, he pushed aside his plan to find religion. He still had months.
Six months . . . four . . . two . . . one month . . . two weeks . . . three days . . .
On October 31st, Jack was just wrapping up a three-day winning streak in a gambling den illegally hidden behind a restaurant when he looked up to find the Devil before him.
The Devil had chosen to dress like a man for this visit, but Jack knew him immediately—his finely-tailored suit and polished shoes couldn’t hide his claws, his red eyes, or the small white horns that sprouted from the top of his head.
“Hello, Jack,” he said, as if greeting an old friend.
Jack’s stomach clenched in terror. “No, wait—I had a year . . .”
The Devil laughed. “It’s been a year, Jack. Today’s October 31st. It’s Halloween again.”
Jack looked to his gambling mates, but they stared frozen, into space, and Jack realized he was in that peculiar twilight again. Behind the Devil, the black void waited.
“So,” Jack said, trying to regain his confidence, “you came to get me yourself this time, eh? Not leaving the job to a flunky this time.”
“Not this time, no,” the Devil said, speaking to Jack even as his crimson eyes settled on the cards scattered around the felt-covered table.
“You a gambler?”
The Devil took a seat across from Jack, and began gathering the cards. “Please—I practically invented gambling.”
Seeing his chance, Jack squinted. “Care to make a little wager today?”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“One hand. Blackjack. If I win, you let me go. You win, I come with you.”
The Devil said, “That’s not much of a bet for me, Jack—I can take you without playing.”
But he was shuffling the cards even as he spoke.
“Afraid you’d lose?”
The Devil looked at Jack once, and Jack nearly shrank back from the millennia of hatred he saw in those eyes. Then the Devil smiled and dealt....
We are left at the end of "The Legend of Halloween Jack" with an appalling question: is hell filled with people who think they beat the Devil and are not living in the devil's domain?
Jay
