Candle Jack.

Candle Jack

One night the moon sat and watched down upon the trees in the forest dreaming of electricity.
Branches hung balanced like a Moon Wood’s tide above all the townsfolk who underneath the trees hanging twigs found themselves gathered together in the open field.
All were there, everybody, all the men, women, boys, girls, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters every single member of the town came to be underneath the night sky in the field.
It’s at times like these, when a whole community comes together, that the stars shine so bright they like to present us with magic eyes.
In the blackness up above divine force, the moon let her Magnetic Power settle upon the mood, and silent secret like blanket snow, her moon flakes fell. Dropping wild from the sky, they made Splashes as they landed upon open eyes, and mingled with the trapped tears of the people. Moon flakes washed away. Until gone from each of the townsfolk’s faces, were those looks which paint the expression,

“I’m afraid”.
Prick up – your lords & peers,
“Why so scared of your own voice”
“Why are you so scared of your own voice?”
“Why so scared of your own voice”
Moon flakes settled upon shoulders began to whisper into ears.
Whispered spells which made each of the townsfolk begin out of their skin to grow feathers.

Whilst more and more feathers kept growing out of arms, legs, faces, and all over their bodies the townspeople shrunk. Feet changed, hands became wings until soon all the townsfolk had turned into birds.

All that was apart from one.

A small toddler named Jack that just sat watching, as his friends and loved ones turned silently into birds who softly flapped their wings and headed off into the starry sky.

No more loved ones, Little Jack was left an orphan, the night his father and mother flew away.

Jack sat in the field and watched all the birds leave until he was left all alone. Waiting, looking up he noticed what at first he thought to be a twinkling flash of light perhaps a winking star. No. It was not a little star it was a silver spoon. The spoon fell from the sky, falling quickly, and soon dropped onto Jacks lap.


No longer alone, Jack’s loveless world was filled with song, because the silver spoon that had dropped out of the night sky into Jacks lap began to sing an eerie tune,

“I am candle Jack the shadow king. I am a flickering fooling hissing string, I’m twisted bubbles popping skin, I am the match. The flame the striking scratch. I am candle Jack. The shadow king.

Jack took the spoon in his hand, and held it up to the stars shining in the night sky, he felt like a prince, as he flourished the spoon swinging it this way and that pretending it was a magic blade. Then resting upon one knee in the manner of a man about to be knighted Jack lowered himself upon the ground with his head bowed to the floor.

As soon as Jack lowered his head a darting fox ran into the field and rushed straight to him. The fox stood up on its hind legs and began with its tongue to lick jacks face, and kept licking and licking. Soft licks, gentle licks. Strange licks, for the fox licked jacks face in such a way, that with each of the fox’s licks, a part of Jack was blown out of existence.

Until eventually the fox, as foxes do, ran off into the night. The silver spoon floated back up into the sky until it was lost to space and nothing of Toddler Jack remained, apart from a whisper in the wind,

“I am candle Jack, the Shadow King.”