Stingy Jack

Grandpa knew when he was licked.  But what story could he tell?  It had to be new.  It had to be about Halloween.  But above all, it had to be scary.  Looking around the room, Grandpa’s eyes found the pumpkin sitting on Timmy’s windowsill.  Its face had been carved into a smiling Jack-O-Lantern, its insides dark because Timmy wasn’t allowed to have any candles in his room.

“Have you ever heard the tale of Stingy Jack?”

“No.”

“Well then.  Lean back, my boy.  If it’s a scary story you want, a scary story you shall get.”

 

* * * *

 

 

A long time ago, in the far off village of Withered Branch, there lived a man named Jack.  The other villagers knew him well for he had a nasty reputation as a drunkard and a cheat.  He was tight with his money, would never give to others, and could talk a bargain out of even the most stoic shopkeepers and pub owners.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)