| Halloween 2002
|Over across town, on Jackson Street, there's a house with a tale to tell,
About a widower some 50 odd years ago, who sent his new bride to Hell;
Some say she came back to avenge, others say the guilt drove him insane,
But this is the way my daddy told it, about that night for old Samhain.
Jack was a door-to-door salesman, eeking out a living at the very best,
When he met a girl called Betsy, who stole his heart like none of the rest;
They fell madly in love from the onset, and Jack asked Betsy to be his wife,
To love and honor and obey him, be his one and only, for the rest of his life.
So in the Summer of 1957, after a simple wedding as quiet as a mouse,
Jack and Betsy moved in together, at the number 13 Jackson Street house;
It had been abandoned many years ago, and though the weeds did roam,
They were very happy as a couple, and so determined to make it a home.
All was going very well for them, right up until that ghastly, fateful Fall day,
Jack had finished traveling a whole day early, and set off for home right away;
Entering without so much as a whisper, to surprise his wife happily was his plan,
But imagine his surprise, at the sight, of his bride in the arms of another man.
Fleeing out into the backyard Jack staggered, seeking solice for his tortured mind,
How could he fix this shattered world, and regain some of the dignity let behind;
When he came upon the old tree stump, and his recently sharpened old axe,
Extracting it with hardly any effort, he returned to the house once Betsy and Jack's.
He storms in through the back kitchen door, straight to the sun palor up front,
Walked directly across to the couple on the sofa, and swung with a mighty grunt;
And before anyone had a chance to act, before a single word could even be said,
Betsy sat looking down in horror, at the hatchet buried deep in her brother's head.
For what seemed an eternity of passing, the only sound the ticking of the clock,
Til she slowly looked up in deep anguish, to her husband, who stood rigid in shock;
Then she suddenly started shaking and after her eyes rolled back into her head,
Her body casually pitched forward, and by the time she hit the floor she was dead.
<... still a work in progress...>
<... Sorry for the delay... been busy.. here's how it ends.>
Jack stood there with his jaw gone completely slack, what the Hell had he just done?
It was impossible to correct this grave mistake, to what haven could he feasibly run?
Having decided there was no other recourse, his only conceivable way to be free,
He went out to the tool shed, found some sturdy rope to take to the tallest tree.
Fashioning himself a noose to place over his head, he stood upon an old crate,
And with a small leap, his feet inches from the ground, he awaited his pending fate;
But as his destiny would have it, the weight was too much for the treeís limb,
It broke, leaving him sprawled akimbo, his chances of redemption growing dim.
So he went back into the house, dragged both the bodies deep into the trees,
Using the fateful axe, cut up and buried them to about the depth of his knees;
Returning to the house, he cleaned up the mess, created by the horrible deed,
To live out the rest of his days, and a life of miserable, loneliness did concede.
Now some say itís just one of those legends, another common urban myth,
A story fallen into antiquity, no longer valid, but Iím telling you forthwith;
If you walk past 13 Jackson Street on the day, Halloween has come a-creeping,
And listening very diligently, you will likely hear a broken heart still weeping.
© October 2002 (Finished May 2018)