This final story of the TaleSpins trilogy is a bit darker, but still accessible to a wide audience of various ages. The story is divided into 5 acts with the point of view alternating between The Doctor and Jack. (They even have their own rhyming meters!)
Jack’d was a real labor of love as I knew I had something special. It took a while to come together, but I knew it eventually would. I hope it sparks some interest and intrigue in you. Enjoy!
[Illustrations by John Skewes (IG: skewesart)]
Jack’d
It’s become quite a trend to take a known story and tell it a different way.
That’s all well and good, for we can assume every author has something to say.
A changed point of view or a whole new character, created to “set things right.”
I know nothing of that, but the story that follows did happen to me one night.
If you must know I’ll tell you that I am a doctor. Little else will be revealed.
I’m too modest to say, but others have called me a giant in my field.
A certain luxurious way of life has been gained from my success
The entire top floor of a high-rise serves as my permanent mailing address.
Over the years I’ve collected some treasures from travels all over the earth.
Paintings and artifacts added to the fortune I received as a right of my birth.
I’m not one to brag, so please understand, my wealth is a relevant fact.
For someone broke into my home that night, and I got (as kids say today) “jacked.”
ACT I
The Doctor
I’d spent several hours at work that night inside of someone’s head.
Quite literally. In surgery. When they brought him to me he was minutes away from dead.
But I did my job with experienced skill and repaired the poor guy’s brain
Then left the room, my hands and back in a twist of arthritic pain.
The next half hour was a windshield blur, a trail of street lamps home
Where the ritual of my arrival includes some time with a garden gnome.
That’s just what I call the short and pudgy, white-bearded operator,
Who spends his days pushing numbered buttons in my building’s elevator.
But that night the odd-looking senior citizen was not in his corner space.
A punkish teen wore the tassled uniform and did the job in his place.
On his coat I could see the brass oval tag that told me his name was Jack.
I asked about the gnome. He just said: “Died.” Then added: “Heart attack.”
He mumbled something, but I was deciding to feel sad for the gnome in the morning.
Inside my apartment, I walked right past what should have been a warning.
It wasn’t until I was set for bed that I noticed something wrong.
Several of my treasured artifacts were not where they belonged.
I wondered why bother invading my home to rearrange my art collection.
Then I saw one glass case was broken and empty. The thief had made a selection.
Shards of glass led a Hansel and Gretel trail all the way back to the door.
(These light-catching pieces were the obvious “warning” I should have noticed before.)
The stolen item was an emerald sculpt of a stalk growing out of the earth.
“It represents the soul,” the artist had told me, adding mystery to its worth.
I called the police, and a tired officer took my detailed report.
Step two was to reprimand “building security” for efforts which clearly fell short.
The elevator came, and (big surprise) the teenager was not at his post.
I pictured him shirking, in a text conversation that had him completely engrossed.
With annoyance, I pushed the button myself and grumbled through my descent.
A chill hit my body for one brief moment. I had no idea what it meant.
Countless times that elevator had taken me down to the ground.
But this ride was different. I can’t say how, but when I took a look around
The world had changed (or at least the lobby) as far as I could tell.
A dreamlike haze washed over the scene as if conjured from some sort of spell.
I overheard the manager apologizing. He and his staff were remiss.
He vowed with a fatherly shake of his finger to “get to the bottom of this.”
His mention of staff made me think of the newest, the kid I had already faced.
What if the gnome had indeed passed away, but had not yet been replaced?
“That was easy,” I thought to myself, convinced I now knew the thief.
The officers who arrived ignored my theory. I was stunned with disbelief.
The bustling chaos of police (and an ambulance?) was an unusual thing to see.
In fact, it seemed everyone at the scene had some interest other than me.
I heard someone sneeze as I walked outside. Perhaps I’d spot the guilty young man.
From the alley I heard the distinctive rattle of an aerosol spray paint can.
I followed the sound and saw a graffitist defacing a nearby wall.
At first the can looked oversized, then I realized he was strikingly small.
“Who are you?” I called as I approached, but he didn’t look up from his work.
I knew he heard me; the sound of my voice stretched his mouth in a defiant smirk.
He’d written
and tagged it
in a swirling silvery white.
As I read it he was painting another message a little further down to his right.
“What is this?” I asked, but he just laughed and like a rodent, he scurried away.
I couldn’t chase him, so I stopped and took in his entire artistic display.
The alley filled with a thick, cold mist. My face and my fingers went numb.
In red, shadowed letters, his other message read:
and was tagged
A door then appeared underneath each message. They were painted, yet somehow real.
It looked like a carnival side show attraction. Step right up (if you knew the deal).
Two similar sentiments with different tones. They were asking which I wanted to do.
I was surprised to see the door beneath my choice open. I took a deep breath and walked through.
Curious to find out what happens? Click the book cover for the amazon link.
OR … if you prefer audiobooks, TaleSpins is narrated by Emmy and Golden Globe winner Paul Giamatti. Click the image to see a video preview featuring art from the comic book adaptation of the first TaleSpins story. Audiobook purchase links are on the YouTube page.
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You can read the other 2 TaleSpins stories via these links:
The Plight & Plot of Princess Penny
Cheers!
