Treats of Jakket

✴ Treats of Jakket ✴
A Tale of a Boy and a Jackrabbit

Children, small, tall, weathered, and beaten, all stopped their play as the sun finally fell past the mountains grand, laying their toys down, the final kick of a ball sent on its way, marked the end of playtime, at the close of day. They all formed together in a chaotic mass of glee and innocence, but one boy, no one wished to play with, a boy younger than the rest, a bowl of curly red hair and freckles defining his face, sat with his legs crossed by the tree line, away from the playground where they all met in the day as the adults went about their work in the village. He intertwined the stalks of daisies and marigolds together to form necklaces and circlets. He enjoyed the joy of creation, though he wished for more: something more than loneliness. He would finally have a friend: there came a noise, like a leather shoe crunching against a twig, from beyond the bushes, invisible. The boy ignored it, for it was common for animals to approach as close as to where the noise came. He paid all attention to his craft, focusing intensely on perfectly knotting the stocks together, that he had not yet noticed the shadow looming over him. When he finally looked up, he shook violently and almost screamed, falling back.

It was something resembling a man but so far from one. The thing wore a finely stitched suit, the color of dark blue seas, and his arms, impossibly long and spindly, brushed the dew-kissed grass, clenched into a fist. The boy shook his head as if to correct his brain as if it was a strange trick of his brain, a hallucination, but it was there; it was real, to him at least. Its head was that of a white hare, a jackrabbit, one would see in the snow of the tundra. Its nose twitched endlessly, and its wide, black eyes peered down from a height no human could reach. It said, "Hello, my new friend." Its voice was high-pitched, almost childlike but undeniably that of a boy or man. "My name is Jakket; I've been watching you," it slowly raised its hands up, both palms still clenched closed. "Feeling blue? Are you sad too? No children wish to play with you?" It rhymed, with unnaturally long pauses as if carefully considering every word and its tone before it was spoken. "I am sad too, my child, for none care for me as I care for them." The boy noticed its hands, stained with colors like oak brown and blood red. The boy was frozen, with a mouth agape; no words escaped.

"What are you?" The boy stuttered intensely, his surroundings darkening as tunnel vision grew on the mixture of man and beast. "What am I? I am merely seeking a playmate, mate." It rhymed again, finally opening its hands to reveal palms covered in candies of golden and sable wrapper. "Care for a treat?" It asked with a wink of its beady eye. The boy hesitated, wanting to look back and call the attention of the other children, though he was scared of what Jakket might do if the gaze was left; drag him into the night? The boy meekly shook his head, slowly pushing himself backward, away; away from Jakket. Jakket did not respond; he stared and glared and stared more. The boy finally stood, screaming for help, but he could not escape yet; none heard his cries.

Still, toys lay scattered on the ground; death observes without a sound; beyond the trees, blood seeps underground.