Scribbled Thoughts

Crazy Mary handed the beans over

in a jar, which Jack covered

with a cloth,

guarding his treasure

from all eyes.

He went home,

packing the few things

he felt would be useful

and left without

saying farewell to the woman

who gave him life.

She didn’t try to stop him.

There were two things left

Jack would need

before he began his journey.

A way to walk amongst the clouds

without falling,

and a weapon to kill

those who were up there.

Jack’s mother used to be feisty,

boisterous, energetic.

She used to take misfortune

in her stride

and carry on with

a sarcastic laugh.

But the years had worn her down

and she was tired,

a deep tired she couldn’t shake,

her movements sluggish

with grief and responsibility.

Even small, beautiful moments

couldn’t touch her anymore.

She used to take pride in her Betsy,

who produced milk

she could churn into butter.

But people rarely bought from her now,

too weary of her son’s reputation

to be seen near their house.

So when Jack told her he’d sell

her beloved cow at the market

she didn’t even bat an eye.

She didn’t say goodbye.

(I’m not happy with this backstory much so might change it later or add more detail).

‘I met one, a giant.’

Crazy Mary told him,

expression distant,

no gloating or malice.

‘A child one, but still

almost as tall as a tree.

He was hiding in the forest,

scared but prepared for death.

His family had come down

from the clouds to scout the land

but had their beanstalk

chopped down immediately.

His parents were killed,

his sibling drowned as they ran,

and he’d lived in the forest since,

too scared to use his beans

and create a beacon to his location.

He gave me them.’

She shifted at this,

making Jack wonder at her honesty,

but didn’t voice it.

‘He stayed there for years,

but then he had to start

crouching not to peek out

above the trees.

One day I went and he was gone.

I never saw him again.’